"Target sighted, 2 o'clock. You know the drill. We do our job, then we get out of here. Is it clear?"

After hearing the instruction, the man beside him nods mechanically with brows furrowing, hands gripping the handle tighter. They are about to embark on an important mission and losing sight of it, even for a second would mean disaster. They can't let it slip away, knowing that it's something that comes by once in a blue moon; an opportunity they can't miss.

He eyes his watch, counting down the seconds. He counts under his breath as the beat of his heart fills his ears, making him lose concentration. He glances at the man beside him again, then to the front before he nods. He notices the movement of another man and he follows it; catching every single move - the man bends down, slots in a key and twists it. It's the sign for them to begin their mission.

"Now!" he exclaims.

Both of them burst through the doors, knocking the said man in the process of haste, their targets now scattered all over the place.

"CHOI SAN GO AND GRAB THE COOKIES WHILE I GRAB THE CHOCOLATE MILK. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? DON'T TAKE THE ONES WITH RAISINS BECAUSE THEY HATE THAT." Seonghwa shouts over the noise in the recently-opened supermarket. When he receives an 'OK' sign, he shouts again, "Make sure you don't lose it, or Yeosang will be pissed again we don't bring back his cookies!"

After shouting another round of their shopping list, they go their separate ways, intending to grab everything before they are swiped off the shelves. The supermarket is having a warehouse sale, and all products are marked down until there are some being discounted up until 80%. Knowing it's not an opportunity to miss so that they can stock up their shelves without burning a hole in their pockets, Seonghwa had dragged his most beloved sidekick in grocery shopping - San - and lined up in front of the supermarket's entrance first thing in the morning. They were the first two people at the line, surpassing housewives and middle-aged women looking for cheap groceries.

With a trolley in his hand, San pushes forward through the throng of shoppers, the shopping list clear in front of his eyes. Then he spots it; the last box of cookies Seonghwa had sent him to get. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees a boy, around high school age, hands already reaching out to grab the box.

"Oh, not on my watch. You aren't taking those," he mumbles.

He abandons the trolley in his hand, cracking his knuckles and popping his neck. He takes one look at the box, narrows his eyes and takes a deep breath. He launches himself to the particular display shelf, his scream drowned in the noisy atmosphere, the boy fully unprepared of what's to come.

Before the boy manages to clamp his fingers on the box, he notices someone flying over the display unit, hands reached out, and snaps the box of cookies off it. That someone lands on the floor ceremoniously, holding up the box like it is a trophy and blowing strands of red-streaked black hair out of his eyes. The flying person smiles a dimpled one at him, shaking the box and mouthing the words 'better luck next time, kid'. Dumbfounded, the boy's mouth hangs open as he looks at the person calmly putting down the cookies in the trolley, already pushing the trolley into another aisle. He looks around, trying to see whether anyone else had witnessed the person somersaulting in the air like he is an acrobat, but everyone else is too busy trying to snag the best deals.

Whistling, San forces himself through the crowd, repeating his own part of the shopping list, the trolley he's bringing bumping into a person or another trolley every metre or so. He has gotten to the end of his own list, dumping the frozen sausages inside, placed on top of eight packets of fishcakes. Knowing that he has succeeded in his mission of grabbing everything on the list, he waits by the side, steering clear of people fighting over a fresh box of lemons. One of the boxes is torn, letting some lemons spill to the floor. It does not hinder them as they keep tugging at each other's clothes, stepping over the fallen lemons and hoping to at least grab a box of lemons. He only watches from afar, shaking his head at the scene.

"Look at them fighting like uncivilized people. I'm glad Seonghwa is not like that-"

He stops talking to himself when he takes sight of a man whose ash blonde hair is being pulled by an old lady who looks to be 70 years old. They are fighting over one wrapped raw chicken, seeming