YANGYANG

“Dude! Dude! Make a left!” The gamer boy screeched into his mic as he pressed furiously onto the gaming console, hoping to avoid the police chasing after him. A red beanie adorned his wavy chocolate brown hair as he intensely focused on the curved monitors before him.

“Yangyang, I’m not sure if we can avoid the cops this round,” responded his unidentified friend.

“Oh, yes we are—” the boy responded, sticking his tongue out in the process as he veered his car about the city buildings in the Grand Theft Auto game. Yangyang was a god when it came to stealing cars. His current stolen car was a luminescent purple-gray R34 Nissan GTR; it had taken him months to achieve such a vehicle whereas any amateur gamer would have taken a whole year to successfully steal it.

To Yangyang, the night was still young. Street lights provided long shadows being casted into his secret hideout and would remain so until around 3 AM where the government would take advantage of the temporary blackout to station their agents across the city. Or at least that’s what he assumed—Yangyang never met an agent in person before, nor did he know what they looked like. He had several hours left of hiding out to game in an abandoned basement he took up to host in that had window panes on one side of the building. However, it was only 11 PM, and with everyone obeying the rules of SM, where was the fun in obedience when there were hours of fun ahead?

The boy had sought the perfect method of making sure he was never to be seen—there was a divided section of the building where the brick walls covered a portion of his desk parallel to the location of the windows that met the corner, completely shielding him from any nosy agents. But being the cocky deviant he was, he purchased an illuminated rainbow keyboard that casted its colors onto his face every time he gamed that also click-clacked each time he pressed on any of the keys. It didn’t help that his monitors were well-lit and would cast their light onto the wall behind him. In addition to his bold gaming choice, he had decided to wear a vibrant red and white cotton jacket that was part denim this particular night as a celebratory outfit for when he would obtain the newest version of the Toyota Supra that had been released after successfully running from the cops.

Looking at the map to the corner of his monitor, he noticed he had a while to go before being in the clear from the cops and other players trying to steal his most prized vehicle, “,” he muttered under his breath and bit his lip to keep himself from being any more louder than he had been in case the government sought him out.

Yangyang rounded a few more corners with his partner doing his best to distract anyone trying to advance onto Yangyang while trying to make it to the finish line with him. His shoulders tensed when he realized he didn’t have much more than two corners to take, but a cop had managed to branch off from chasing his partner and was closely trailing him.

“Just a little more…” he growled and pushed his car into full throttle, not even 5 seconds from the finish line when his partner sounded, “Yangyang—” and his monitors had shut off.

Black.

“What the hell?” his brows furrowed. He had just updated his desktop recently and paid good money for someone to create his own networking system separate of SM’s so that he wouldn’t be tracked. He also double-checked to be sure that his hard drive had enough RAM to support his games. Surely they would work unless there was a water leak somewhere and fried his outlets?

Yangyang reached underneath to check his cords, flashing the flashlight from his phone onto the area first to check if there was any leak of some sort. Upon discovery, they were dry. And as Yangyang had turned around to reboot the power supply on the other side of the basement, he was met with a masked male figure.

The mysterious person before him cocked his head to the side, analyzing him. Slowly, the agent approached him while Yangyang had taken a step back every time the agent took a step forward. He knew he couldn’t scream because he was on the outskirts of the city, and no one would hear him in fear of receiving some unknown, torturing punishment for interfering with government business. The agent said nothing, operating on emotionless feelings and forcefully turning Yangyang around to handcuff him with magnetic handcuffs, in which each side of the handcuffs contained electrons