The entrance to the tunnel was his only way in, but so was it his only way out.

As the mix of blood and sweat trickled down his temple, the Asian man was lined up against the curved wall. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the deadly smell of rat piss and death coming from the pitch black water under him. With a disgusted groan, he cupped his nose and mouth with both hands. His absolute noises brought life to the tunnel moments later.

Lights, a car’s headlights, aded the underpass and blinded him. Not only did the invasion surprised him, but the bugs and rats around him scrambled and squirmed into safety in a span of a second. To secure his vision, he raised both his arms and shielded his eyes from harm's way. Except he couldn’t protect himself from what was coming next.

Walking toward him were four men, all with a weapon in his hand. “Comfortable in your little hiding spot? That’s too bad, your last day has come. Your boys are waiting for you, in hell,” as the man lowered his arms enough, he saw the man closest to him swing a bat at him. He squeezed his eyes with all his might and waited for the pain to hit him.  

Seven hours earlier….

“Ready and action.”

Youngjae pressed the Bluetooth into his ear, securing it in place, as he makes his way around the corner and up the pavement. In less than ten steps he approached an elegant young woman coming out from the backseat of a car, “Sorry Madam, you can’t park here.”

The woman, in her mid-twenties at best, gives him an unamused look. Then less than a second later her driver came out to answer for her. “Sorry, are you new?” Despite asking, the young driver went on to explain, “This spot has always been reserved only for Madam Lee’s household, so who said I can’t park here?”

Youngjae cocked his head to the side, “Ah,” he voiced gently, “sorry, I’m new so I must follow protocol. May I verify your I.D. and vehicle registration please?” Patiently he held out a hand and wait for the other to hand over documentation. And to no surprise, the latter failed to cooperate.

“That will be unnecessary. However, if you insist. I suggest you make a quick call to your station, they will inform you that I have all the right to park here,” the woman rolled her eyes and folded her arms as she gazed elsewhere, this cast a satisfied smile on Youngjae’s face.

“It looks like your madam is in a hurry. You’re only wasting time insisting this and that,”

The man did not budge and instead sternly ordered, “Call,”

Youngjae lowered his hand and began fishing his pocket for his cell. Once he retracted the iPhone 7 plus from his pocket he pressed down on the number one and it speeds dial him to someone who answered instantly, “It’s me Youngjae. Yeah. I have someone here who refuses to hand over paperwork because he’s a Madam Lee’s driver.” Youngjae could feel the man’s hawk eyes studying him but he simply brushed it off. “Right? So I should write him a ticket for a parking violation, right?”

“Hey!” the chauffeur barked as he reached for Youngjae’s phone, “Give it to me—” A quick shuffle and the man was left scratching the empty space in front of him.

“Alright understood,” Youngjae hung up and showed his recent calls to the lad, “you may verify if the number is my station’s number by going onto our website. Now, my supervisor has stated to me that either the customer obliged or I’ll have no choice but to write you a ticket. Afterwards, you may choose to pay or appeal the citation in court, within twenty-one days of the day it was issued.”

The young man clenched his jaw. “What’s the big deal? Just give him the information oh my god,” the woman uttered. Youngjae presumed the woman was very Western influenced based on her broken English expression. As the lad walked over to the car, the woman came forward.

“What is your name again? I will make sure to report you. I’ve been married to Mr. Lee for three years and I’ve never been mistreated nor questioned by a public worker all these years,” then in English, she sluggishly spatted, “ever,”

“Well,” Youngjae began calmly, “at my station, there are two other workers with the same first and surname as me. If you would like, my badge number would be easier for you to report me.”

Youngjae jumped into the parked van and let out a victorious cheer, “Ah-ho! Vehicle’s policy number right here!” He tossed the rolled up paper to a man sitting in shotgun—rather the man who always call "shotgun!".

“Good work,” the man next to Youngjae said dully as he typed away at his laptop. Then in the driver seat was a man, younger and taller than any person in the vehicle. The latter has pink hair that has started to