Another chapter dedicated to Rainypixy. I couldn't ask for a sweeter reader. Thanks for getting me to update this silly story again! I'll try to do better, my loves.

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June 4th, 2018

Gongju, South Korea

6:19 AM

The apartment is far quainter than he expected it would be.

Finally seeing it – with its small fireplace, frayed carpet, a lumpy couch in the center of the living room, and barren walls – feels admittedly disappointing. He stands within the threshold of the abandoned space, analyzing it for something – anything – that can reveal where its inhabitants have disappeared to. Alas, it is but a simple home. Hardly lived-in and long vacated. Finding this place was supposed to be the discovery of a lifetime, a shining achievement in an otherwise blind and frustrating search. Yet being here, after nearly two years of misleads and backtracks and ultimate failures, feels more anticlimactic than anything remotely victorious.

His hands curl into fists at his sides. Again, he thinks with growing anger. They’ve escaped us again.

He wanders further into the apartment, past the kitchen where dishes still lay in the sink, the bathroom where a pile of cosmetics and hair products are sprawled haphazardly on the counter, and into the first bedroom he sees. It’s been thoroughly ransacked by his men – pillows overthrown, drawers cleared, and closets completely emptied– yet nothing beyond the usual items found in their other hideouts were revealed: oddly-paired clothes, stray jewelry, documents with forged names, and the like. There’s nothing helpful to be found. Nothing valuable. Nothing personal. Just like the last time, and just like all of the other times he and his team somehow managed to track down the temporary homes of their greatest enemies.

They’re still out there.

He walks into the next bedroom, this one in a similar state of disarray, and gives it the same critical assessment. His eyes bounce from the pile of textbooks atop the desk in the corner of the room, the duvet cover decorated with cartoon characters, and the paused screen of some video game that still runs on the television set against the wall. He growls at how ordinary everything looks – how human – when he knows the owners of these rooms are anything but.

The world still isn’t safe.

Finding no other rooms, he makes his way back to the foyer where his excavation crew awaits. They appear just as tired and frustrated as he feels, having spent the past few months scouring the apartment for clues – hair strands, photographs, a ing trace – though, in the end, having not discovered a single thing. That was why they called him in from his base in America, to examine the scene for himself and tell them what their next move should be. Though, really, he has no idea where to go from here. They’re all still where they were two years ago after that last confrontation in Osaka (the last known place their targets had been seen) – back at square one and not a single step closer to apprehending the creatures his organization is determined to eliminate at all costs.

He and his men are the hidden protectors of mankind. The ones who ensure the lives of Earth’s people remain balanced and safe from harm by otherworldly beasts. Stationed all across the globe, the members of their organization, Track Rare Individuals: Capture and Kill (TRI:CK), are known by many names, varying by region and language and mythos.

Though their enemies simply refer to them as Hunters.

“Agent P, sir,” a stoic voice interrupts his thoughts, one of the crewmembers greeting him with a practiced salute that her fellow teammates hurriedly copy. It's followed by a bow, and he feels somewhat nostalgic at the sight of it. The agents of TRI:CK’s South Korean branch have always been sticklers for propriety, and he almost misses his days working here.

Almost.

“At ease, Agent M,” he tells her with a nod of acknowledgement, and she offers another salute before gesturing for her team to do the same. “I heard none of you found anything. Quite a shame, isn’t it? I thought this time would be different...”

Agent M’s face pinches up in discomfort. “Yes, we did, too,” she says slowly. “There really wasn’t much here besides the typical household belongings. We did find what looked to be...homework? But it was in a language we couldn’t understand, so we aren’t exactly sure.”

Agent P waves dismissively. “Don’t bother with it,” he almost growls. “From what we've gathered, the Lycanthrope and the Vrykolakas only speak human languages, so it’s probably one of the Spellcaster’s things. I know firsthand that we’ll never be able to translate something of his.”

“Oh,” is Agent M’s awkward reply. Silently, she gives her teammates a quick, meaningful look, one they match with their own that Agent P cannot help but notice. But before he can inquire about it, Agent M clears . “Well, about the Spellcaster,” she begins with palpable tension, and Agent P’s eyebrows lower at her tone. “The men who arrived here first, the ones who got the call from the local police department – ”

“Yes, the Phantom squad. You told me about them,” Agent P interjects with slight impatience. “Though you never informed me as to how the local police, of all people, were able to provide coordinates on our targets’ whereabouts.”

If Agent M is irritated about being interrupted, she is professional enough not to let it show. Instead, she clears again, and continues, “yes, well...you may not know this since you’ve been in the States for the past few years, but our branch leader signed an agreement with the police departments here. If someone ever calls and mentions the right keywords we set to signal a Code Silver, they’d transfer all information and jurisdiction to us.”

“I remember when that agreement was first drafted,” Agent P recalls. “It sounded ing stupid.”

“We all thought so, too,” Agent M admits. “I mean, it didn’t work for years, so we all thought it was a waste of time. But then, out of nowhere, the police got a call about vampires and the Phantom squad were immediately sent to investigate.”

In clear disbelief, Agent P snaps, “and why the hell would those creatures call the police to one of their own hideouts?”

It’s here that Agent M grows the most nervous, as if dreading her superior’s reaction to her next words. “That’s the thing, sir. It wasn’t one of our targets,” she mumbles. “The Phantom squad reported briefly seeing a fourth person.”

Agent P frowns. “There’s another creature amongst them?” That couldn’t be good.

“No…not a creature,” Agent M stammers. “It looked like a human, sir. It was a human. He said he’d been,” she swallows thickly, “he said he was kidnapped.”

At that, Agent P feels something within him snap.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “.”

Yoochun can’t stop smiling.

He wanders back into the karaoke room with a wide grin on his face. It’s the definition of ridiculous, kind of scary, and borderline cartoonish with how far it make his cheeks stretch. But Yoochun is far too giddy (bursting at the seams, really) to realize just how close he is to getting sued by the Cheshire cat for trespassing on its primary source of income.

Mind rushing with a million ideas a second, he closes the padded door behind him and leans against it. His captors--commodities are too busy arguing over what song to sing next to notice his return – “another ballad would be nice,” Changmin politely suggests before being silenced by Jaejoong who chucks the tambourine at his head while yelling, “ you, let’s do another ty pop song!” – and Yoochun is glad he’s been spared a moment to really get a look at the four men he once considered the worst things since wet bread.

First, there's Jaejoong.

“I’m the oldest so I get the control pad. Disobey me and there will be illegal consequences.”

Now that he thinks about it, he’s always thought Jaejoong’s voice sounded nice. Even while he was threatening to ruthlessly castrate him and sell his remains on the black market “for the grand sum of three cents, because that’s all you will ever be worth, you pathetic human,” Yoochun couldn’t help but be impressed with how pleasant the vampire still managed to sound. It almost isn’t fair that someone as demonic and unusually cruel as Jaejoong was blessed with such a face and voice. Honestly, Yoochun would be jealous if not for the fact that he's about to exploit the ever living out of the squawking blonde. Haha, oh well.

Second, there's Yunho.

“Now now, pretty man. Let’s not be too mean. This is a day of celebration and love! We should all be friendly and leave the mean talk for another, less festive time.”

Yoochun doesn’t need to analyze Yunho much. He’s the epitome of perfection, and that’s an indisputable fact. Although Yoochun isn’t exactly sure how well Yunho sings alone, he does so wondrously with everyone else. Not to mention that his dancing is impeccable. Yoochun never imagined someone could breakdance to Circle of Life and actually pull it off, but whenever they were alone in the house together, Yunho did so without complication or a of awkwardness. Also, if there was any doubt that Yunho is one of the most profitable people in the room, the man is just so goddamn nice! How he manages to emulate a Care Bear so well astounds Yoochun to no end. Any audience would love him instantly, he thinks. It’s impossible not to.

Now third, Changmin.

“You’re lucky I left my wand in the car, Kim. Otherwise, I would teleport several of your vital organs to France. Now give me the control pad.”

See, this kid is a piece of work. From what Yoochun has heard so far, he can reach notes so high, it should be deemed criminal. And the lightness of his voice is able to harmonize well with everyone else in the room, making it a necessary component to any quartet. While he isn’t nearly as approachable as Yunho (Yoochun doesn’t think there’s anyone alive who can come close), he certainly isn’t as childishly pissy as Jaejoong (who seems to always have the girthiest stick shoved up his ) and that is a major plus. He has brains, too, Yoochun acknowledges. And his magical abilities? Definitely useful, for small things and big.

Finally, there’s his fourth pawn.

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