A bitter winter, bruises smarting from the cold. Blood soaking the snow, already dirtied by muddy footprints. Was that the last time Chanyeol felt actual fear? Even though he can’t answer that for sure, he knows that that time was definitely the first. He was still a rookie then; a mere teenager budding into his twenties with a streak of rare eagerness to take on any challenge. Yixing, the businessman in China whom they were ordered to protect a few years ago, told him he had ‘an owl’s spirit in the heart of a monkey’. That’s what you are, he tells Chanyeol, while strings of cigarette smoke dance towards the night sky. Light and death. Justice in cold blood. An amiable face that never hesitated to pull the trigger. Men like you are hard to find nowadays, my friend. Can’t say whether for better or worse. 

And as Chanyeol stares at Baekhyun, who is unflinching with a gun in hand, he feels the unfamiliar feeling seeping in slowly. Is it fear? No, it is something else. A mix of anticipation and somewhat revolting sense of nostalgia. It is impossible to guess what the latter is thinking. It is the unpredictability of him that Chanyeol finds the most unsettling. It reminds him too much of himself back then; a past he’d rather forget but it chases him wherever he goes.

“Who really are you, and why are you here for Jongin?” Baekhyun says, scowling. “You’re not really Kim Seokjin, are you.” 

“Why, you know him?” Chanyeol asks, wearing a wry grin. Baekhyun frowns harder at Chanyeol’s light mockery, pressing his foot harder onto Chanyeol’s ribcage. He winces in pain. It hurts like a . He’d turn the tables if only Baekhyun didn’t have a gun pointed right between his eyes. 

“Can’t say that I do. But no ordinary guest of Jongin has a face like yours.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that supposed to mean?” 

Baekhyun lifts an eyebrow, as if the answer is supposed to be obvious. “I like to think I have a talent for knowing when someone is hiding something.” 

Well, he isn’t wrong. Out of all the operatives Chanyeol had gone through, he has never met anyone who had figured out his cover. Seems like blind luck decided to take a break today. 

“And if I don’t tell you, will you kill me?” 

Rolling his eyes, Baekhyun says, “as I’ve already told you, I could’ve killed you long ago if I wanted to. But what I want are answers. A lot of assassins are targeting Jongin lately, and he refuses to tell me why. Are you one of them?” 

“That’s not it,” Chanyeol replies, and whether Baekhyun actually believes him or not, it is actually the truth. He wasn’t sent to kill Jongin. “I’m here to… well, I’m here to ask him to join forces with my company. My boss has tried to ask him the nice way and he did not comply so… here I am.” 

Baekhyun deadpans, obviously unbelieving. “Your company. And what is ‘your company’.” 

Despite tonight going entirely south, Chanyeol still decides to try his luck. “I’ll answer that if you tell me who you are.” 

At that, Baekhyun laughs as if Chanyeol had told him a joke instead, albeit cynically. “You can’t bargain with the man pointing the gun at you.” 

All of a sudden, his bluetooth comes back to life, Sehun’s voice blasting in, stricken with panic. “Hyung! Are you dead? We lost connection just now! Junmyeon sent Jongdae to your location, by the w-“ 

“I know I can’t. But tell me who you are and I’ll tell you everything you want to know about me,” Chanyeol tells Baekhyun, knowing Sehun can now probably guess that his cover’s been blown. 

Baekhyun simply stares back at him, both bewildered and unamused at his reply, as Sehun whispers, “oh….” 

“You have five seconds, Kim,” Baekhyun growls. “Or I’m planting a bullethole in your leg.” 

Chanyeol hears a click in his ear; the line connecting to Jongdae’s comm. “Chanyeol,” the latter says, panting like he had just ran. “Chanyeol, tell me your exact location right now, I just arrived at the building and- there’s two guards running towards me right now, ha ha. Did I mention I totally set off the intruder alarm by killing the entrance security?” At that, from the bluetooth, Chanyeol hears two swift shots from Jongdae’s gun, muffled from a suppressor. Coincidentally, he hears them from outside the restroom as well. Baekhyun startles at the sound, turning around on instinct. Chanyeol’s heart palpitates. This is his chance. 

“Toilet next to you,” Chanyeol says, bringing Baekhyun’s attention back to him, the dawning realisation clear in his eyes. 

“You-“ Baekhyun yells angrily, finger pressing the trigger, but Chanyeol had anticipated it. He leans forward and grabs Baekhyun’s outstretched hand in the nick of time, the gun going off and firing a hole dangerously near to where his head used to be. Even though Baekhyun was agile in hand-to-hand combat, Chanyeol clearly had the upperhand when it came to brute strength. Baekhyun tries to struggle out of his grasp going for a punch at his eyes, but Chanyeol dodges, grabbing Baekyun’s leg that was initially stepping on him, making the latter lose his balance. The door swings open before Baekhyun can do anything else. A breathless Jongdae stands at the entrance, looking relieved that Chanyeol hasn’t actually been shot. 

“If you could drop your gun, that’d be great. I’d hate to kill another person today,” Jongdae’s exhausted voice says, as he points his gun at Baekhyun. Scowling, Baekhyun hesitates for a moment, before reluctantly letting go of his pistol, raising his hands slowly in surrender. Chanyeol offers him an apologetic smile as a bitter look is given in return. Unfazed, he picks Baekhyun’s gun up, pocketing it in the innards of his jacket. The small, silver firearm is still warm from Baekhyun’s attempt to blow his brains out. For someone who had such soft features, he sure knew his way around an 83mm Walther PPK. It begs the question even further; who exactly is this man? He had the sparring skills that exceeded the calibre of a regular spy and the sly charisma of an expert conman. He can’t possibly be in the field of espionage as well, can he? 

“Hey,” Jongdae says, snapping Chanyeol back into the reality of the mission. “We gotta get out of here before the rest of the village is in the vicinity. What do you suggest we do with him? Because if…” he motions the action of a finger crossing his throat and then points at himself. “Me: nuh uh. Do it yourself.” 

Chanyeol steals a glance at Baehyun’s direction, who still has his hands raised in a disgruntled defeat. “He’s coming with us. He has information about Jongin, who is here, apparently.” 

“We don’t have time to look for him,” Jongdae replies. “He probably bailed already since I sounded the alarm. D.O should be arriving with the drop ship in five minutes. I know where the alternate rendezvous point is.” 

“What do you want with Jongin,” Baekhyun spits out scathingly. Jongdae turns to Chanyeol, who shrugs. “I just told him the truth.” 

Jongdae nudges Baehyun’s back with the gun in his hand, signalling for the latter to start walking. “Get a move on, wise guy. Why not you tell us a bit about yourself since you’re gonna be bumping with us for awhile.” 

Chanyeol notices Baekhyun’s scowl wavering for a split second, before hardening again. He doesn’t seem to have a death wish, though, because he starts to walk out of the lavatory, Jongdae and Chanyeol right behind him. “You really aren’t here to kill Jongin?” Baekhyun demands again, as they make their way quietly to the lobby, having to step over a few of the guards that Jongdae had to kill. The both of them certainly didn’t appreciate Chanyeol’s little joke of the party guests having to nasty shock later. Must be because one of them must’ve gone out to have a quick smoke break and saw the blood splattered on the initially pristine white walls; her horrified shriek alerting the other guests. Now, not only do they have to run out of the building with a hostage in tow, but also avoid all the party guests that stream out of the building in mad hysteria. Not to mention the remaining guards that are busy looking for the culprits of this whole fiasco. Chanyeol would say Plan B is going just how he likes it. 

“You can’t bargain with the man who’s pointing the gun at you, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol repeats his words airily. “But yes, we aren’t here to kill Jongin. We want information from him.” 

“What information,” Baekhyun asks instantly. He asks every question tonelessly and insistently, like a teacher interrogating students who have done a wrongdoing, despite these ‘students’ threatening his life with a bullet to his spinal cord. 

“Information the assassins you’ve mentioned are trying to keep him from saying,” Chanyeol replies, as they enter the emergency staircase as directed from Sehun, who’s studying the blueprints of the building from the base. Although he did have the attention span of a butterfly, Sehun is undeniably the best at directions and memory work. How that paradox of a person can even functionally exist, Chanyeol does not know, but it places Sehun in charge of telecommunications most of the time. He does his job well when he wants to. Keyword though, is wants. 

“Go to the second floor. There’s an emergency fire exit down the hallway. Its situated at the behind of the building to an alleyway. Pretty sure no one can look there fast enough,” Sehun says through the bluetooth, the background sound of the keyboard clacking away. “Its the fastest route to the docks. Kyungsoo will be there with the drop ship in ten.” 

“D.O’s right on time, as usual,” Jongdae groans, poking Baekhyun’s back with his gun for the man to walk faster. “C’mon, Baekhyun. That’s your name, right? We gotta hurry.” 

They scuttle down the stairs in quiet urgency, ears peeled for any incoming footsteps that were trying to sniff them out. They reach the second floor, unscathed. Jongdae silently signals for Chanyeol to watch Baekhyun as he checks whether the floor is clear. Chanyeol pulls out his own pistol from his inner pocket and holds it in front of Baekhyun. To his surprise, the latter lets out a short, quiet chuckle. 

“Clear,” Jongdae whispers, opening the door a little wider and slips out of it. Baekhyun follows suit with Chanyeol in tow. “What was that for?” Chanyeol frowns, mildly irritated that he did not seem the slightest bit scared of his predicament. Baekhyun is undeterred, smiling coyly as he continues to follow Jongdae to the emergency fire exit. 

“You had the gun the entire time and you didn’t try to shoot me when I attacked you in the restroom?” 

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow. “Call it the element of surprise. Or the fact that you didn’t really leave my hands free for it.” 

“You flatter me,” Baekhyun replies, mockingly, as they get out of the building through the emergency exit and make their way down to the alleyway from the rusty copper-stained metal stairs. It is almost completely dark, with only the moon to provide them with a shred of light. The alleyway is dingy, dirty; reeking with the sour stench of cigarettes and rotten food. It is ironic, Chanyeol thinks, that a building with such a beautiful front and interior hid its grime and filth beneath its belly. Of course it is totally quiet and void of anyone else. Not one of the party guests would be caught dead in here. Just as they finish scaling their way down the building, Chanyeol hears the faint shouts of ‘make sure you check all the exits!’ from the building. The guards are almost catching up to them. Baekhyun hears them too, eyes darting from the sound to Chanyeol, oddly suspicious.

“If they’re coming to save you, we’d gladly swap you for Jongin,” Chanyeol says. 

“You think Jongin is really here?” Baekhyun scowls. “He never attends any of the parties he hosts. Its all a front to divert his pursuers. You fell for his trap, I’m afraid.” 

“What’s your deal with him, anyway?” Jongdae asks. Baekhyun doesn’t respond, not looking at either of them in the eyes. The docks are only a stone’s throw away. It is actually a relatively peaceful night, the waves crashing gently onto the shore as small boats sleep lazily on the water’s surface. Yes, a relative peace, Chanyeol might add, if not for the huge drop ship that descends from the sky and makes the sea below it ripple vigorously with every spin of its blades. Junmyeon doesn’t lie. It is loud as . The entire flank of guards can definitely locate their position now. Shadows loom over them ominously, watching their every move as they zigzag through the maze of high-rise buildings until they reach the quay. 

Baekhyun’s eyes are wide in shock at the drop ship, not expecting it at all. “Oh,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I guess you guys really are from a company, huh.” 

“An organisation,” Jongdae corrects him, shooting Chanyeol a look. “Company, really?” 

Chanyeol ignores that, turning over his shoulder to see if anyone had caught up to them. At almost three in the morning, the streets are supposed to be dead. But not today. Screeching cars and incessant shouting tear through the quiet city, the guards hot on their tails, following the sound of the drop ship. 

“Alright Baekhyun, we’re going to make a run for it now,” Jongdae says, the nervousness seeping in his voice as the roar of unwanted company edges closer. There is no more place to hide, nor any more time. There is a click in Chanyeol’s bluetooth, and Kyungsoo’s voice yells into the microphone. 

“What’s the hold up?” He shouts over the loud sound of the drop ship. “I can see you guys loitering at the- who is that extra person? You guys really got Kim Jongin?” 

“We’ll explain later,” Chanyeol says, as he watches Jongdae sprint down the pier and jump into the inky black waters. “Baekhyun! Run!” 

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Baekhyun glowers at the gun Chanyeol has in his hand, but he complies nevertheless, running down the wooden pier towards the shore. Chanyeol almost has a hard time catching up with him — Baekhyun is surprisingly fast, and the both of them plunge into the water as the fervent shouts of their pursuers are now as clear as day. Gunshots ring through the air as bullets slice thinly through the water behind them. But Chanyeol barely hears them underwater, liquid filling his ears and smarting his eyes. In that forever of a second, everything was almost calm; in the silky arms of the sea, illuminating watery rays of moonlight. He turns to face Baekhyun, whose face is only half visible through what little gleam the moon gives. His hair twirls upwards, bubbles swimming out of a small gap between his lips. Pretty boy, Chanyeol finds himself thinking again. How out of place. In that eternity of a moment, they share a glance, Baekhyun’s expression foreign and unreadable amidst the serenity of it all. A bullet lands too close to home, jerking Chanyeol out of his trance. He grabs Baekhyun by the arm and swims towards what he can make out as below the drop ship. Chanyeol’s head breaks through the surface, gasping for air. He pulls Baekhyun up, the latter sputtering through coughs, as Jongdae lowers the rope ladder from the drop ship. As soon as his ears drain out the water, the loud whirring from the drop ship and the reverberating gunshots pulsate all around him. Some men donning black suits stand at the shore, shooting at them, while Chanyeol catches other getting on the docked boats at the corner of his eye. 

“Baekhyun!” Chanyeol shouts, wet hair sticking to his forehead. “Baekhyun! Climb up!” 

He does, after Chanyeol glaringly prods his pistol at his shoulder. He makes it safely onto the aircraft when it is Chanyeol’s turn to climb up the ladder. The wind is howling at the sea, making it colder than Chanyeol would like it to be after getting soaking wet. Bullets whizz past him as he climbs up as fast as he can, one of them almost catching his fingers. However, he still makes it back in one piece, heaving all his weight onto the drop ship, yelling at Kyungsoo to close the plug door. 

“Park, make sure your legs are properl- !” Jongdae cries out in pain as a bullet manages to hit him squarely in the arm before the plug door reaches a complete close. He cradles his arm, wincing, as blood seeps through his black sleeve, staining it a sickly sticky dark red. 

At the cockpit, Kyungsoo steers the drop ship away from the quay, starting its course back to their base in Korea. “What the hell is going on, Chen?” 

“He got shot,” Chanyeol says hurriedly, searching for the medical kit and finding it tucked tidily in one of the boxes under the seats. Trust Kyungsoo to be a complete neat freak. “Can’t we use another means of travel other than the noisest thing on the planet?” 

“You wanna take a commercial airplane from Gloucester all the way back to Jeju?” Kyungsoo grunts. “Have fun getting gunned down while you’re buying duty-free Yamazaki.” 

“Speaking of, I could really use a drink,” Jongdae adds weakly, with Sehun chipping ‘me too!’ in their bluetooths. Chanyeol digs out a needle and thread he found in the kit, along with a small bottle of isopropyl. “The only alcohol you’re getting is for stitching up the wound.” 

“Let me do it,” Baekhyun suddenly says, staring pointedly at the tools in Chanyeol’s hand, while he wipes the water out of his hair and eyes. “I’m fairly good at these kinds of things.” 

“Oh yeah, who is that?” Kyungsoo asks, turning over his shoulder. “Please tell me it’s Jongin.” 

“He’s not Jongin. His name is Baekhyun and he might have an affiliation with Jongin,” Chanyeol replies, before facing Baekhyun. “And no, I’m not letting you out of all people save my colleague’s life.” 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, as if what Chanyeol said did not make total sense considering he can potentially turn on them and inflict even more injury on Jongdae. “If I try anything funny, just shoot me in the head, okay? Now, let me.” He takes the needle and bottle from a bewildered Chanyeol and crouches beside Jongdae. 

“You’re lucky,” Baekhyun tells Jongdae, as sweat beads down the latter’s forehead. “The bullet just grazed your skin, but it almost reached the bone. I’m just going to stitch it up as a temporary measure.” He says it gently, uncharacteristically, leaving Chanyeol perplexed as he watches Baekhyun hastily pour isopropyl over the needle. “Don’t suppose you guys have a shot of morphine for him?” 

It takes a while for Chanyeol to snap out of it and properly register the odd situation laid out before him. “Oh, err,” he rummages through the kit. “Damn, we don’t. Sorry, Chen.” 

“,” Jongdae wheezes. 

“Uh, guys? Junmyeon wants to talk to you guys via video call. I’m connecting him now,” Sehun says in their ears. The screen lowers promptly, and Junmyeon’s face appears on the screen, looking less than happy and more of disconcerted. 

“I told you guys I had business to settle in Switzerland and yet Sehun keeps updating me every five minutes about how Park is going to die this time,” Junmyeon sighs tiredly. “You’re lucky I didn’t trust you enough on this mission and sent Chen as backup in case of an emergency.” 

Chanyeol smiles wryly at the screen. “Thanks for the lack of trust. Which, in this case, really saved my life.” 

“Is that your way of showing gratitude?” Junmyeon says, unimpressed. “Where is Chen, anyway?” 

Chanyeol turns to look at Jongdae and Baekhyun, who strangely, is staring at Junmyeon way too intensely, eyebrows furrowing like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “I’m hit, Suho,” Jongdae calls from the floor, as Baekhyun stands up slowly, until he is head-to-head with the screen. Junmyeon’s eyes widen in shock at the supposed stranger in the drop ship. 

“This isn’t Jongin, by the-“ Chanyeol says, but is cut off by Baekhyun’s short, mirthless laugh. “So you’re Suho, Junmyeon?” 

Junmyeon? Baekhyun knows his boss’ name? Chanyeol looks at Baekhyun, completely baffled, who is grinning at Junmyeon with a smile that barely reaches his eyes. Junmyeon, too, takes a while to completely process who is standing right in front, before sputtering, “Baekhyun? Byun Baekhyun?” 

“That’s… That’s his name,” Chanyeol says slowly, exchanging a glance with both Kyungsoo and Jongdae, all of them nonplussed and uncertain about what is unfolding before them. “You know him, Junmyeon?” 

Lips pressed together in a hard line, Junmyeon blinks before taking a deep breath, pausing to find the right words to utter. Chanyeol finds Baekhyun staring at him, deciphering Chanyeol’s expression as the truth about him is exposed. The same feeling of anticipation and nostalgia washes over Chanyeol, wondering why Baekhyun suddenly seemed so in tune with everything around him, the lack of fear in the face of danger being so familiar. 

“That’s because he’s Byun Baekhyun,” Junmyeon finally says, eyes looking at the ground. “Former agent of the National Intelligence Service. Gone rogue seven years ago because he killed a member of the board.”