Warning: rated T for censored cursing and blood/wounds

---

Not even hunger, infection, and illness could dampen the intellectual curiosity that fueled Youngjae.  That was why the yellow-eyed alien stumbled through the streets alone, recording conversations that he overheard from the native inhabitants of the planet.  As he walked, Youngjae gathered writing samples for his future use, pretending to be reading them while he casually listened to the weirdly similar, yet oddly and obviously distorted language that the natives spoke.  He could recognize frequently used words, had associated some words with different actions through observation, and had identified a few basic speech patterns already, but he had a long, long way to go.

When he had a solid armful of papers, some glossy and filled with photographs, much like the magazines that the more well-off people of Mato bought for their children, and some were just thin, worn out things that appeared to be daily publications, Youngjae realized that he had wandered a bit far from the new base.  A little while ago, Jongup had been seen by a native female, so just to be safe, Himchan had ordered that they switch locations.  They had found a mostly-sheltered spot behind a building that appeared to have been condemned but never dealt with, and had set up there after Zelo had analyzed the structure to make sure that the thing would not come crashing down on them during the night.  Now they fumbled through life from there, making sure that they all had enough to eat and drink and trying to keep their wounds from worsening.

Youngjae became aware that the gashes on the right side of his torso were throbbing wildly.  Not they had not been for the last few days, of course, but it was now bad enough that he could not force himself to ignore it.  Biting his lip, he gingerly ghosted a hand over his wounds, wincing as even the slightest brush with the dirty fabric of the shirt that Himchan had dug up for him from Tats-knows-where caused the entire mess of infected flesh to burn.  The situation was no good, no good at all.  As he staggered along, Youngjae’s vision began to blur as the pain increased.  It hurt so much that he almost wanted to throw up.

His steps became uneven as the pain began to overtake his body.  He lost his sense of balance and crashed into the side of a building, using it to keep himself upright.  Youngjae gave up on hanging on to his collection of papers, letting them flutter to the ground as he struggled to right himself.  His legs were barely able to hold him up anymore.  He only managed to take a few more steps before his right knee gave out, sending him crashing to the ground, on his right side of course.  When his side hit the pavement, he let out a silent scream as his vision flashed white.  His head cracked against the concrete and he lost consciousness.

 

“What the ----?”  Sheila stopped mid-step to peer into the alleyway.  Out of her peripheral vision, she thought she had seen someone lying on the ground in the dull afternoon light.

Beside her, Myeongeun turned to check out what she had noticed.  “A…body?” she asked, confused.  “But we’re nearly in pact territory.  Who would be stupid enough to dump a corpse here?  I mean, this is practically SHINee’s turf, right?”

“Who the ---- knows?” Sheila asked, squinting to get a better look.

“We should check it out and report it,” Myeongeun remarked.

“Damn you and your ------- sense of moral responsibility,” Sheila grumbled.

“You could call it civic duty if the thought of morality sets you off,” Myeongeun said.  “Come on, Sheila.”

Sheila groaned in protest as Myeongeun grabbed her arm and dragged her into the alley.  Grumbling, she pulled out her phone and the flashlight.  Myeongeun knelt down beside her to inspect the body, nudging it cautiously with her hand.

The body was a boy who appeared to be about their own age.  His hair was honey blonde and his skin was pale.  His features seemed Asian enough, and his clothes looked like they had been dug out of the bottom of a thrift shop junk pit.  He did not look like he had been roughed up in any way, and his body was warm with light perspiration on his face and neck.  Sheila watched as Myeongeun felt the side of his neck for a pulse.  “He’s alive,” she announced.

“First glance doesn’t scream to me that he got attacked, and he’s sweating, so he probably didn’t pass out from thirst,” Sheila muttered.  “He might have dropped from hunger, but he’s sweating and it’s March 3^rd.  Help me check under his clothes.  Maybe someone beat him up carefully.”

Myeongeun nodded, and they rolled him onto his back.  Sheila pushed up his shirt while Myeongeun checked him for head wounds.  “No unusual lumps,” she reported.  “His hair color seems natural, though, which is weird.”

“No ----,” Sheila said.  Then she saw the angry red on the boy’s torso.  “Holy ----,” she breathed.  “What the ---- happened here?  These look ------- old.”

“It looks like he tried to bandage himself or something, but forgot to apply antibiotic cream,” Myeongeun said, frowning.  “It’s all infected.”

“----, that must hurt like ------- crazy,” Sheila muttered.  “No wonder he ------- passed out.  What the ---- was he thinking, ------- going around in his ------ condition?”

“I think he dropped these papers,” Myeongeun said, glancing at the scattered sheets around them.

“Maybe he was on a job,” Sheila said.  She shined her light over to the paper next to Myeongeun.  “What is it?”

“It’s…a page from the day before yesterday’s newspaper,” Myeongeun said.

“What the ----?” Sheila asked.  “Maybe there’s a code or something.  Whatever.”

“We need to help this guy,” Myeongeun said, standing.  “I’m going to run to Kibum’s place.  Let’s see, peroxide, bandage wraps, medical tape, antibiotics…what else?”

“Are you serious?” Sheila asked.

“Come on, it’s got to be against even your moral code to let a poor fellow die of infection in an alleyway,” Myeongeun said.  “Plus, this isn’t quite SHINee’s turf, so he’s fair game for the next sick person who comes along.”  She crouched down again and lifted the boy’s head, squishing his cheeks.  “How can you turn away this guy’s cute little face?” she asked in a cute, pouty voice.

Sheila rolled her eyes.  “I’ll pitch in 5000₩,” she said.

“Gee, thanks,” Myeongeun said.

“Fine.  10,000₩,” Sheila said, digging around in her pocket.  She handed Myeongeun the green bill.

“I’ll be right back,” Myeongeun promised.

“You got your gun?” Sheila asked.

“I’m a hop and a skip away from the border,” Myeongeun said with a sigh.  “But yes, I do have it.”

“Good,” Sheila said.  “If you’re not back in ten minutes and I haven’t gotten a text, I’m coming to find you.”

“Overprotective?” Myeongeun asked.

“Idiots abound,” Sheila stated.

“Very true,” said Myeongeun.  “I’ll be careful.”

Sheila watched Myeongeun disappear off into the streets before turning back to the boy.  He had not moved after all of their poking and prodding, so she wondered how long he had been lying there.  She moved to more fully examine his body, rolling up his pants to check his legs and lifting him up to check his back.  The boy looked underfed, but he was definitely not underweight.  In fact, Sheila wondered where the boy was keeping his weight, as he lacked significant muscle definition and an abundance of fat.  Through her examination, the boy only stirred slightly, but showed no signs of actually waking up.

After coming to the conclusion that the boy did not have any other major injuries aside from a number of minor scrapes and bruises, Sheila wondered what had happened to him.  He was just outside of SHINee’s territory, and they, along with the rest of the SM Alliance, were infamous for shooting their enemies in the kneecaps to disable them.  The only other gang in close enough proximity for a plausible conflict was GOT7, and as a part of the JYP Alliance, their signature attack was on the Achilles tendon.  The boy bore neither of those injuries; in fact, Sheila could not think of any gang that would do something as vicious as rip open the side of someone’s torso – it was inefficient and involved close contact.  The most likely reason for the boy’s wounds was that he got on the bad side of the wrong people, probably some wannabe gang outside the pact that wanted to prove its strength, and then got attacked and was unable to find the resources or friends to help him out.

Myeongeun returned soon enough with a plastic bag filled with first-aid items.  She and Sheila set about dabbing at the wounds, first with alcohol wipes and then with clothes dipped in hydrogen peroxide.

“Stupid little ----,” Sheila muttered, though her voice held no fire.

“We should really take him back to the studio,” Myeongeun remarked.  “He’s not safe out here in the open.”

“I’m warning you, this guy weighs a ton,” Sheila said.

“He looks like an underfed idol,” Myeongeun said, gesturing to the boy’s long, thin limbs.

“Then his bones are made of some ------- heavy metal or something,” Sheila said.

Myeongeun slung her bags over her body.  “I’ll take his legs and you take his shoulders,” she said.

Sheila groaned.  “The things I do for you,” she complained.

“You’re a darling,” Myeongeun chirped.

“One, two, three, heave!” puffed Sheila, bracing herself for the boy’s uncanny weight.

“Oh, wow, you weren’t kidding,” Myeongeun said, surprised.

“No ----,” Sheila said.  “Ugh, I hate walking without instant access to my gun.”

“I’ll drop his legs and grab mine,” Myeongeun said.  “I’ve spent time at Bom’s shooting range before, and I’m a decent shot.”

“Fine.”

Sheila grumbled and complained all the way to the studio.  They were passing through Super Junior’s territory when they were stopped by one of the gang’s street watchers who wanted to make sure that they were not in the process of very badly disposing of a body or abducting someone.  Myeongeun showed him their Blackjack employee IDs, and the man looked them up.  Seeing that they had clean reputations, he checked the boy for a pulse and the wounds that the two said he had before letting them go.

The pair crossed through Girls’ Generation’s territory and into VIXX’s.  They were only a few blocks away from the warehouse when the boy woke up.  He flailed about for a moment before Sheila and Myeongeun lost their grip on him and he fell unceremoniously onto the ground.

“What the ----, man?!” Sheila exclaimed in English.

“Are you alright?” Myeongeun asked him in English.

The boy panted weakly, probably from pain, as he managed to say in garbled, thickly-accented Korean, “You…you…do…?”  Sheila raised an eyebrow at his poor speech as she stood at Myeongeun’s side, on alert.  Her eyes fell on his eyes, which were an unusually bright hazel-yellow color.

Myeongeun’s brow furrowed.  “We do?” she asked.  “What did we do?”

The boy frowned, clearly confused.  “You do…you do what?” he asked.

“That’s what she said,” Sheila said in Korean.  She did not know much about the different dialects, but she could tell for certain that the boy was not speaking with the standard Seoul accent, and that Korean was obviously not his first language.

“You’re hurt,” Myeongeun said slowly and clearly to the boy.  “We want to help you.”  She pulled out the medical supplies that she had just bought and showed them to him.

The boy cautiously moved to inspect the items that Myeongeun held out to him.  He glanced over the bandages before pointing to the antibiotic cream and hydrogen peroxide.  “This…what this?” he asked.

“Medicine,” Myeongeun said.

The boy’s brow furrowed.  He took the bottle of peroxide and unscrewed the cap.  He cautiously dipped his finger in and inspected it.  Suddenly his eyes widened in recognition.  He said some word that sounded like gibberish with a tone that seemed to indicate a question.

“I don’t understand,” Myeongeun said.  The boy repeated the word, but Myeongeun shook her head.  “I’m sorry.”

The boy was quiet as he handed the bottle back to Myeongeun, who put everything back in her bag.  He then pointed to the bag, and then to himself, specifically his side.  “You…you…”  He said another nonsense word.

“Yes, I used these things on you,” Myeongeun said carefully.

“Fix!  You fix,” the boy said, satisfied with his pick out of his apparently severely limited vocabulary as he continued gesturing to his side.

“Yes,” Myeongeun said, nodding.  “We fix.”  She gestured for him to follow.  “Come.”

Apparently the word ‘come’ was not in the boy’s vocabulary.  Myeongeun repeated herself, but he still did not comprehend.  Sheila sighed as she stepped in.  She pointed to the boy, then to herself, and then used her index and middle fingers to make a walking motion.  Then she pointed to a nearby building, the bag of first aid supplies, and then to the boy’s injuries.  The boy was quiet, processing the gestures, before he reciprocated them in a manner that said, “I you walk building medicine wounds.”  Sheila assumed that he got the message and nodded.  She turned to lead the way, but Myeongeun stopped her.

“He can’t walk on his own, Sheila,” she said.  “Help me support him.”

“Fine.”  Sheila moved to stand next to the boy.  He eyed her warily as she slung his right arm over her shoulder.  Myeongeun stood at his other side and did the same.

The three of them walked like that until they reached the warehouse.  Sheila dug around in her pocket, pulling out her keys.  She unlocked the door and helped Myeongeun sit the boy down against the wall.  After closing and locking the door again, she did her usual inspection of the relatively spacious studio to make sure that no moron with a death wish had done any tampering while Myeongeun tended to the boy.  Five minutes passed before she was satisfied.

“How’s he looking?” Sheila asked Myeongeun.

“He just needs to look after himself, that’s all,” Myeongeun said in Korean, giving Sheila a look.

“Fine, fine,” Sheila said, switching languages.  “What are we gonna do with him?  We have work tonight.”

“We’ll get him some food and let him rest here,” Myeongeun said decisively.

“Really?” Sheila asked.

“I’m not turning him out into the streets in this condition,” Myeongeun insisted.

“I’ll go grab him something,” Sheila said with a sigh.

“Here, take this,” Myeongeun said, handing Sheila a 10,000₩ bill.  “Now we’re even.”

“I’ll be back,” Sheila muttered.  She headed over to VIXX’s local street vendor haven and bought whatever she could see that was cheap and filling.  She ended up with a lot of rice and fried food, and brought a bag filled with warm, unhealthy food to her studio.

“I smell street food!” Myeongeun cheered when Sheila opened the door.

“How much do you want?” Sheila asked her as she put the bag down next to the boy.

“None,” Myeongeun said.  “It’s for him, of course.”

“Have you gotten a name out of him?” Sheila asked.

“I tried,” Myeongeun said.  “He’s got a horrible Gyeongsang accent, but I think his name is Youngjae.”

“Gyeongsang…?” Sheila asked.  She really did not care about regional dialect enough to know which one was which and what distinguished each from the others.

“Busan accent,” Myeongeun said.  “Like this.”  She did a bad imitation of a Busan accent, and Sheila shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said.  “Hey, it’s getting close to five.  Do you want to start thinking about heading out soon?”

“Alright,” Myeongeun said.  She pushed the food over to the boy.  “This is for you to eat,” she said slowly in her approximation of a Busan accent.  “We have to go to work, but we’ll be back.”  She also placed the medical supplies next to him and pulled out two standard ibuprofen pills from her purse.  “If you can help it, don’t play around too much with your wounds, okay?  If the pain gets too bad, take these pills after you eat.  We’ll be back late to check on you.”

Sheila grabbed her backpack.  “Should I lock him up?”

“I don’t think you have to,” Myeongeun said.  “If nature calls and he needs to get out, he needs to get out.  Besides, I think your death threats to the last punk who thought it would be fun to vandalize around here were enough to scare everyone off.”

“Okay, fine,” Sheila said.  “Let’s go get some food and get out of here.”

“Street vendors?” Myeongeun asked hopefully.  “That stuff you got him really smelled good.”

“Shall I be good to you and treat you after all the trouble you’ve put us through today?” Sheila asked.

“Oh, please, I’m the one who had to do the dirty work and put up with the guys who were running Kibum-ssi’s place for him today,” Myeongeun said.

“My treat, then,” Sheila said.

After the pair enjoyed a filling and less-than-healthy dinner of delicious street food, they headed to the Blackjack club.  The night was a typical night, aside from high showing of student-aged clubbers who were celebrating their last free Saturday night before gearing up for the new school year the next day.  Sheila raked in tips from the giggling girls who acted like they had probably never gone clubbing in their lives as she flattered and flirted with them as she served them their drinks (in the underground, nobody cared about the drinking age or if you got in trouble for drinking underage if you were found out above ground).  At four-ten in the morning, she met Myeongeun outside Blackjack’s employee entrance to walk her back to the studio and then to her apartment.

“I made out like a king,” Sheila said as they strolled through the cool night air.  “There were so many innocent girls who were having their first alcoholic drink in the underworld tonight.  It was actually kind of crazy.”

“Let me guess.  You seduced them with your beautiful, androgynous face and flattered them with that silver tongue that has an on-off button for swear words,” Myeongeun said.

“---- yeah,” Sheila said.  “What’s this I’ve got, some 100,000₩?  This alone will take care of a good chunk of the rent.”

“Oh, why don’t you just buy the place already?” Myeongeun asked.  “We’re putting so much effort into it already.”

“I’ve actually been corresponding with Leo lately,” Sheila said.  “I’m on my way to negotiating a lease-to-buy with him.”

“Leo owns the building?” Myeongeun asked, confused.

“VIXX owns it,” Sheila said.  “Leo just does the accounting.  I thought I told you the old owner walked away from it when it fell into disrepair.”

“You probably did, but I was probably doing homework,” Myeongeun said.

“Right, you actually try in school,” Sheila said.

“The CSAT is in November!  You might want to apply yourself a little, just for senior year, if you want to have any chance at all,” Myeongeun said.

“I already told you, I’ve got no future in Korea.  I’m gonna work here and save up to go back to America,” Sheila said.

“And what will be in America for you?  You’ll have to go to college or something to get a job, right?” Myeongeun said.

“Maybe I’ll try rapping,” Sheila said.

“Our underground is unique,” Myeongeun reminded her.  “I’m pretty sure you won’t find a haven like it anywhere else.”

“Maybe,” Sheila said.  “If I can’t find anything, I can bull---- my way through community college and get a decent job or something if I’m desperate.”

Myeongeun shook her head.  “You’d have a better opportunity in our underworld than in America at this rate.”

“We’ll see,” Sheila said.  “Hey, the lights are off.”  She jerked her chin in the direction of the warehouse.

“Maybe he wanted to sleep,” Myeongeun said.

Sheila her phone flashlight and opened the door.  “Hello?” she called, shining the device around.

Myeongeun stepped in and flicked on the lights.  “He’s gone,” she said.  “He took the food and the medicines with him.”

“That ungrateful little ------,” Sheila grumbled.

“Don’t be so hard on him,” Myeongeun said with a sigh.  “It’s obvious he’s new around here.”

“No ------- ----,” Sheila said.  “Barely speaks decent Korean, carries newspapers and magazines in an alley, dresses like a hobo, and has weird hair and eyes.  You did see his eyes, right?  They were ------- freaky!  I didn’t want to say anything in front of him in case he went all bat----- on us.”

“They reminded me of that poor boy’s eyes,” Myeongeun said.  “You know, the one I ran into behind Jinki’s place.”

“Freaky.  ------- freaky,” Sheila muttered.  “Whatever.  Let’s get you home.  I wanna sleep.”

 

It was a terrible struggle, but Youngjae finally managed to reach the hideout.  Zelo must have detected him as he approached, because the giant baby threw open the door and helped him inside.

“Where in Tats’s name have you been?!” the ever (secretly) fretful Yongguk demanded.  “You’ve been gone for hours!”

“I passed out,” Youngjae said.  “But it’s okay!  I’ve got food and medicine!”

“What?  How?” Jongup asked, eyes wide.

“I woke up and this girl and guy were carrying me somewhere,” Youngjae explained.  “I tried to talk to them, and they were able to understand me, I think.  They took me to their house, tended to my wounds, and even gave me food!”

“Maybe they have a custom of hospitality on this planet,” Yongguk said.  “That would make all of our lives a little easier.”

“They might have just been concerned because they found me unconscious,” Youngjae remarked.  “But they got me hydrogen peroxide and what I think might be basic antibiotics to deal with the native viruses here.  Plus, I have these two weird white pills, some clothes that I think are disinfectants, and some bandages.”

“The pills are ibuprofen,” Zelo said.  “The amount is what we would give to a young child.”

“They should have just made it one tablet,” Jongup observed as he and Himchan gingerly inspected the food.

“I bet it’s because their bodies are so much less dense than ours” Youngjae said.  “Their metabolisms might be the equivalent of one of our species’ children.”

“Should we give the pills to Daehyun?” Zelo asked.

“I doubt that that amount of ibuprofen will help him much at all,” Youngjae said.  “I think tending to all of our wounds comes first.  Plus, I don’t want him to have medicine on an empty stomach.”

“This stuff definitely looks edible,” Himchan said.  “We’ll divide it.”

“It smells really good.  Can I try some too, General?” Zelo asked hopefully.  The boy had been refraining from eating because food was scarce and his body could run on solar power alone.

“Of course, Zelo,” Himchan said.  “Youngjae, tend to Daehyun before anyone else.  Yongguk, help him.  Zelo, you too.  Jongup, come help me.”

“Do you think we could find those nice people and thank them for taking care of our Youngjae?” Jongup asked.

“Ah, there are so many people in this place that I doubt we’ll ever see them again,” Himchan told him.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Jongup said.  “Well, I hope that Dada blesses them for their act of goodwill.”

“I’m sure he will,” Himchan said.  The two tried to ignore Daehyun’s cries of pain as Youngjae directed Zelo on how to clean their friend’s wounds.  “I’m pretty sure we all could use some blessings right about now.”

---

At last begin the chapters in which you (OCs) and B.A.P actually have legitimate interaction.  I apologize for the lame ending.

I did my best to research the Korean school year.  Apparently March marks the beginning of the new term.  I’m actually using B.A.P’s debut year, 2012, as my reference for the year, so March 2^nd, the day when school would usually start back up, fell on a Friday, which apparently means that the new term is postponed until the next Monday.  That’s why Sheila and Myeongeun are still waiting to start their senior years.  Also, according to my research, the CSAT is held in November, and Sheila really should have been studying for it all her life, which is why Myeongeun is worried for her.

I don’t think I’ve got any more notes, so, do you have a positive or constructive thought you want to share?  Did you spot a grammar or cultural error?  Got a question you want me to answer?   Leave me a comment!

Also, I was wondering...