The night was completely silent. It wasn’t a peaceful quiet, no, it was one that made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and caused your blood to freeze cold.

Minho crept foreword cautiously, eyes scanning the scenery around him. His throat felt tight. His heart was hammering.

It felt like he was in some sort of horror movie, where someone, or something for that matter, jumps out from behind a bush and murders you.

The silence was then shattered by a series of quick, booming gunshots. The noise sent a pair of ravens, who were sitting in one of the many dying trees around the junkyard, squawking into the sky, cawing in alarm.

Minho jumped back in surprise at both the sudden noise and the appearance of the ravens. His grip around his pistol tightened instinctively as he stalked foreword, his hand resting on the handle of the gun at his waist.

He spotted a slight movement from the corner of his eye after a few minutes of trying to find his way around the dark, only able to use the gunshots he could hear as a reference, and whipped around, spotting a middle-aged, short, and stalky man jump out from behind a faded yellow truck container to his right. Minho couldn’t see very well, for the clouds had chosen that time to obscure the bright, yellow moon, but he could see well enough to know that the guy was one of the few people they had been sent to find. If he was one of the people he was looking for, then that meant that he also had a gun.

Minho tensed when he heard the distinctive sound of a rifle being cocked and rolled to the left, all his training over the past four years kicking in. He pulled his body up into a crouched position and brought his pistol up at an exact ninety degree angle, his left arm supporting his right wrist. He fired off two shots in rapid succession, not giving the enemy in front of him any time to retaliate. The man clutched at his chest where the first bullet had hit, crying out in pain and his gun clattering to the ground, slipping from his fingers like soap. His painful cry fell short, however, when the second bullet entered his brain mili-seconds later, killing him instantly.

Minho didn’t stay to watch the man fall. There were still three people left that he and his partner needed to deal with.

He needed to hurry.

Minho hurriedly returned his gun to its holster and took off at a sprint, racing through the junkyard, jumping and running over car hoods and dancing around piles and piles of ready-to-be-recycled tires. He still couldn’t see well, so he continued to use the other gunshots and shouts to find his way.

A pipe containing probably either water or gas, stuck out from the ground a few feet in front of Minho and he found himself on the ground, choking on dust.  Swearing, Minho picked himself off the ground, pulling his gun from its holster to make sure it was all right.

“Damnit…” He really, really wished that they could have done this in someplace a little easier for him to maneuver in and maybe sometime when it was actually light outside.

Minho continued at his break-neck pace, his heart hammering in his chest. From the sounds of it, there were at least four different types of guns being shot, which meant that his partner was taking on the remaining three enemies. He really hoped that he was okay and would remain that way until he reached them.

The gunshots in the distance were becoming louder, informing Minho that he was at least going in the direction he needed.

A minute went by before Minho found himself in a clearing of sorts, filled with machinery probably used for compacting both tires and cars alike, along with several more piles of tires, some already recycled and squished into small box shapes, but most just stacked in several long towers.

The gunshots were upon him now and Minho searched around franticly, looking for any sign of his friend, wondering if they were here or if it was just the wind throwing the sounds around.

At that moment, the clouds moved, allowing the moon to shine on the ground around Minho, which showed him the retreating back of his friend, who was following the two remaining criminals they were after.

For a brief second, Minho wondered where the other guy had gone. He just hoped that his partner had killed him and Minho just hadn’t spotted the body. He didn’t want the guy to sneak up behind them later.

He didn’t give himself time to ponder it much, for he shot off at a sprint again, trailing after the other three.  He was suddenly very glad that he had been in track for most of his childhood.

He slid to a stop, dust swirling up around his ankles, and hid behind a telephone pole. He stopped to catch his breath, panting heavily, and retrieved his gun. He peeked out from behind the pole after a short while, drinking in the surroundings, looking for places to hide if he needed them, but more importantly, looking for the enemy and his partner, Donghae. He held the gun in both hands, took a deep breathe, and stepped out from behind the security of the pole.

The first person he saw, he shot at, after making sure it wasn’t Donghae. The bullet missed the young man’s neck, where Minho had been intending to shoot as he raced across the small clearing they had found themselves in, but it managed to lodge itself into the man’s shoulder, successfully cutting into a major tendon. The young man, who looked about Donghae’s age, cried out in pain, clawing at his shoulder with his other arm. The man’s gun fell from his limp fingers as his whole entire arm went dead.

Minho took a second to remind himself that the man was still a threat, not dead, before sliding behind a small wall of tires he had seen Donghae hide behind.

Except…Donghae wasn’t there.

Minho felt panic rise in his chest, wondering where his friend went, but shoved it down quickly.

The fight seemed to have resumed after Minho took the first shot, for suddenly the noise around him was almost deafening. Donghae must have left the hiding spot just as Minho slid in.

Minho had a stitch in his side from all the running he had done, which hurt badly every single time he breathed in. He messaged the area around his ribs with a wince, wishing he could just go home and rest - but he had a job to do and a friend to protect and those mattered more than he did.

He sat up and turned around, shooting at a man who looked to be the leader of the small ragtag group they were hunting. His entire presence screamed authority - and so did his expensive AR-15 and his clothing.

Minho hated people like that, people who forced themselves into such a position with money or fear.

“God damnit!” Minho screamed in frustration when his shot missed – again. The man had ducked down behind a fairly-new looking, white, Ford truck just as Minho placed his finger on the trigger.

He slid down beneath the tires again, wincing when a bullet thudded into the trunk of a dying tree, also behind the wall of tires, just inches away from where Minho’s head had just been.

Minho heard Donghae’s gun fire off another shot, just once, before he joined Minho behind the tires. Minho couldn’t help but feel relieved.

Donghae turned his head after a couple of seconds took trying to find his breathe, finally noticing Minho’s presence. Donghae looked relieved as well to see him and smiled tiredly.

“Minho…”

Minho smiled back, but then his relieved expression turned concerned when he noticed that pained expression on his younger friend’s face. He also noticed that Donghae was holding his right arm.

“Are you hurt?”

Donghae hesitated. “…Not bad.”

“Let me see.”

“Hyung! We don’t have time for this!”

Minho took Donghae’s right elbow gently in his hands, rolling up his friend’s sleeve. The sight in front of him made him recoil in shock.

Donghae had been shot in the upper part of his arm, right in the middle of his bicep. It was bleeding furiously, which made Minho even more concerned.

“Donghae! This is bad! Look at it!”

Donghae winced. “It looks worse than it really is. I’ve already looked at it. It’s not deep either.”

Minho frowned and released Donghae’s arm. “It’s bleeding really badly.” He tore off a piece of his pant leg and tied it around Donghae’s arm tightly, but not tight enough where it would cut off circulation. “Put pressure on it.”

Minho watched and made sure Donghae was doing what he told him, before he gave him a light pat on the cheek and a gentle smile before looking away. He rose to his feet wobbly, his muscles screaming in agony at having to get up again.

He found the leader, still hiding behind the truck he had hidden behind earlier, and shot, tuning out Donghae’s protests from behind him.

Minho dashed towards the vehicle the man had been hiding behind – only to find that he was missing.

Confused, Minho looked around. There was no way he could have gotten out of there that fast.

“Why don’t you face me, you dog?” Minho spat, tired of waiting for the man to show his face. He spun in a slow circle, his gun held out in front of him threateningly.

There was a noise to Minho’s right, the small sound of someone stepping on rocks and having them shift under the person’s weight. He whipped around, and before even aiming or looking at the person, which he had been doing a lot lately and probably wasn’t a good thing, he fired off several rounds.

He was pleased with himself when he saw the leader’s body fall from where he had just been about to ambush Donghae.

Minho walked up to the man and kicked him in the side, hard; the man moaned in pain and Minho nodded satisfied. He wasn’t dead yet. That was good. They needed to bring him back to the base for interrogation.

He crouched down beside the man, setting his pistol beside him, and began rummaging through his pockets, looking for things that could be of use to them later for this man’s crimes.

Not finding anything, Minho stood up and turned around, opening his mouth to tell Donghae that there was nothing and it was time to leave, only to be met with a fist to the jaw.

He stumbled back, surprised, and ended up tripping on the leader’s body, falling to the ground.

“!” He swore at his own stupidity, staring up at the man who he had injured earlier.

How could he have forgotten about him?

The man had a snarl on his face and had picked up Minho’s pistol, holding it in his un-injured arm.

Minho swallowed.

He never thought his own gun would someday be his un-doing.

For a precious second, Minho just sat there, stunned, but then he remembered that he was in danger and not entirely defenseless.

He watched as the man rested his finger on the trigger.

Minho struck out with his leg, knocking the man to the ground as well, but the man fired the bullet as soon as he hit the ground, managing to shoot Minho just under his collarbone.

Minho grit his teeth, fighting a cry of pain, and held a hand to the wound he had received.

He managed to chuckle. “I guess that means we’re even now.”

The man nodded, smiling slightly, and rose to his feet.

Minho allowed him too, but once he did, he began to attack again, swinging his fists, despite how much pain moving one arm caused him.

Not for the first time, Minho thanked his father over and over again for forcing him into martial arts as a kid. It was one of the only things his father did for him that Minho thanked him for later.

Except, the only problem was, this man seemed to be doing better than he was. He also didn’t seem to be tiring much.

Minho’s body ached and it was hard to find the energy to attack, so he resulted in going into the defensive, though that was almost just as hard.

They wrestled for the gun, Minho trying to keep it away from himself so the man didn’t have a clear shot at him while also trying to take it back.

The man pushed away from Minho slightly, making Minho stumble a couple steps back, then rose his knee to his waist, seconds later striking Minho hard in the chest with a Front Snap kick.

The sudden impact, despite Minho’s weak attempt at a block, sent him reeling backwards to the ground once more.

Taking advantage of Minho’s vulnerability, the young man finished it with an axe kick, successfully knocking the air from Minho’s lungs.

Struggling to breathe, Minho could do nothing but stare up at the man.

He wanted to call for Donghae, but he couldn’t speak. His throat was too dry.

The young man raised Minho’s gun so that it was level with Minho’s eyes, aimed right between them.

He didn’t want to die yet. He was still so young…there was a lot more he wanted to do with his life.

Minho closed his eyes tightly and heard the gun shoot – but there was no pain.

Confused, Minho re-opened his eyes, seeing the young man in front of him slowly crumpling to the ground, blood pouring from his neck. Behind him stood Donghae, a serious look on his face, holding his own pistol up where the man’s neck had been before he fell.

He slowly lowered the gun, returning it back to its holster at his side, and then flashed a toothy grin, holding a hand out for Minho to take.

“Donghae: 2, Minho: 1. Looks like I’ve won for the day.”

Minho took his hand with a grin of his own. “Yeah, right. There’s still some light left…I’d say the day is not yet over.”

Donghae laughed. “Sure, Minho, sure.”

“You never know! Someone might jump out behind a bush on our way back, then I’d have to save your life, and we’d be even again.”

The two of them laughed, despite the pain they were both in, and put their arms around each other’s shoulders, using the one another as supports.

Donghae gestured over his shoulder at the leader, turning the two of them around to face the man, who was and whimpering on the ground still. “Whadda we do about him?”

Minho sighed. He had forgotten about him.

Minho slipped out from underneath Donghae’s arm and knelt down beside the leader again. He checked for a pulse and found that his pulse was weak, which was to be expected. He put his hands over the man’s wound at his chest, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

He turned back to Donghae and reached for his phone, tossing it to Donghae when he found it.

“Call 911.”

Donghae stared at him. “What? Why?”

“Boss man wants us to bring him back alive for questioning. He wanted us to keep the other three alive as well…but that didn’t work so well.”

Donghae laughed nervously, dialing the number and holding it to his ear. “Nope. Not really. Does he think these guys,” Donghae gestured to the leader and the young man Minho had been fighting, while he waited for someone to pick up. “Have ties to Eunhyuk?”

Minho nodded. “Yeah.”

Donghae turned away from him, putting a finger in his ear to hear the speaker on the phone better.

“Yes, this is Officer Lee Donghae! We have a bullet-wound victim over here in Dae Han Junkyard! Yes, he’s been shot in the chest. We’re applying pressure to the wound-“As he talked, Donghae paced back and forth, something he always did when he was nervous or excited over something.

Minho turned back to the man, tuning out Donghae’s voice. He stared into the eyes of the leader sternly.

“What’s your name?” He demanded.

The man scowled and spit at him, barely missing Minho’s face. It landed on his t-shirt instead.  “None…of your damn…business!”

Minho frowned and lifted one of his hands to wipe it off, grimacing. “I believe it is. Who are you working for?”

“I d-don’t have to…answer to scumbags like you!” The man barely managed to grunt out. He coughed. Blood was beginning to fill his lungs.

Minho sighed. “You guys just never make things easy for us, do you? Fine. Have it your way. I was hoping you wouldn’t have to suffer from my colleagues back at the station. They’re pretty rough when you don’t tell them what they want to hear.”

The man said nothing, continuing to scowl up at Minho, pure hatred in his eyes.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, making him tense. He looked up and saw Donghae leaning over him.

“We’re going to leave him here. They’re sending a helicopter to come pick him up and carry him to the hospital.”

Minho nodded. “Hopefully they come soon.”

“The army base where they’re taking him isn’t far from here. The lady on the phone said it should take them less than five minutes.”

“Good.”

Minho stood up, grunting when the muscles in his knees groaned in protest, and put his arm around Donghae again.

“Let’s go home.”

As they began their slow walk back to the car, Minho glanced over at the young man he had been fighting earlier. He was surprised to see that he wasn’t yet dead.

“Donghae…just a second.”

Donghae paused and looked at Minho curiously. “What is it?”

Minho didn’t answer and instead broke away from Donghae’s hold once again and walked over to the young man.

The young man was almost dead, he probably only had minutes left, but there was light in his eyes still; he wasn’t ready to give up.

Minho stood over him, watching him sadly.

“How old are you?”

The young man struggled for words. “E-Eighteen…”

Minho couldn’t hide his surprise. “…So young?” he murmured, glancing at Donghae, who shrugged.

“…What was the name of the guy you were working with? Could you tell me that?”

“Jongwoon c-called him ‘Wolf’.”

“Wolf,” Minho raised an eyebrow, looking at Donghae again. Donghae walked over and stood beside Minho, his eyebrow raised in a curious expression.

“That’s the leader, right?” Donghae asked gesturing to the injured guy a few feet away, not really directing his question to a specific person.

Minho shrugged. “I guess.”

“Why were you working for him?”  

“I d-didn’t have,” he seemed to struggle to breathe in, biting his lip. “A choice.”

Minho pursed his lips, kneeling down next to the boy. “I see.”

The boy began coughing uncontrollably, his body trembling while blood began to flow from the corner of his mouth.

Minho gently lifted the boy’s head up, moving his head to his lap, and tore off a piece of the boy’s sleeve. He held it to the boy’s neck and applied pressure to the wound, just as he had done earlier.

“It’s going to be okay…” Minho whispered, swallowing hard. “You’ll get help soon, they shouldn’t be long.”

The boy nodded weakly, his coughing fit ceasing momentarily.

“What’s your name, kid?” Donghae asked gently, also kneeling down next to the young man.

The young man scowled at Donghae for a second, which Minho could understand because after all he had shot him, and Minho doubted he would answer, but then he surprised both of them, maybe all three of them, by answering breathlessly: “Sungmin.”

That one word seemed to take the last of the boy’s strength, for his eyes suddenly glazed over, his rapid, harsh breathing stopped, and his entire body went limp. Minho noticed fondly that the boy’s eyes still had that shining determination though, even in death.

“I’m sorry…” Minho whispered quiet enough for Donghae not to hear, not that his friend would have heard anyway. Donghae was staring at the boy’s body, tears in his eyes.

After a long minute of sitting there, lost in their thoughts, Minho finally lifted the boy’s head from his lap, placing it back on the ground gently.

Minho had to remind himself that the boy had tried to kill them, as he and Donghae stood up and walked away, forcing themselves not to turn back. It had always been hard to kill people…but even harder when you know you’ve taken one that didn’t have time to fulfill their dreams.

The loud humm of a helicopter in the distance, filled Minho's ears - but he hardly paid attention to it. 

For a brief second, Minho wondered wheter or not they could bring the boy back. He had seen it done, quiet a few times, but he wasn't sure. Sungmin had lost a lot of blood.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of it's thoughts, and continued walked alongside Donghae. Even though he didn't want to think about it, he found himself thinking about the man he had killed once they walked past the place he had shot him. He wondered if he had a family, wheter or not he was like Sungmin, and forced into doing this.

Donghae was also oddly silent the whole trip back as well. Most of the time, it was rare for Donghae to be quiet.

Since the both of them were both pretty beat up from the fight and neither of their minds were in the right state to drive, especially at night, they called their boss, Hankyung, who was supposed to be in the area investigating a robbery and murder, to come drive them home. They could leave the car they drove over for another officer to pick up tomorrow.

“Hey, Minho?” Donghae asked once they were in their boss’s car and on their way to a hospital to get their wounds stitched up.

Minho opened his eyes, having been almost asleep, and looked at his partner curiously. “Hmm?”

“…I just want you to know that…you’re by best friend and I love you. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else at my side today. A-and…thanks, for everything.”

Donghae always got a little sappy once he took someone’s life, which Minho could also understand completely. It was tough, but sometimes they had to do it so they could protect others.

He smiled sadly and looked out the window, watching the trees roll past for a few seconds, before looking back at Donghae, who was looking back at him with sad eyes.

He reached up and ruffled the younger boy’s hair before pulling him to his side. Donghae sniffed and leaned against Minho’s shoulder.

“I feel the same way.” He murmured. “And… I love you too.”

---

A/N: Hello everyone~! First off, I'd just like to thank everyone who is reading this. I'm really sorry if my description and foreword ...but hopefully this chapter will make up for it. I'd really like to thank my friends, BluePhoenix and XxSHINee-RoxyxX for helping me out with this. I asked both of them to read this prolouge and they did. They told me what they liked, what I could change, gave me ideas, etc. Thanks a lot you two. I seriously don't know what I'd do without either of you.

Also, even though Prologues are...well...probably supposed to be fairly short and one chapter or so long, I'm going to make it two. I decided that I should inform you about Sungmin and what happened to him.