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Renjun sat upon the aluminium table situated in the centre of the armoury, kicking his legs back and forth as he watched Chenle move from shelf to shelf.

The younger of the two had vibrant orange hair, the locks grown quite long and his fringe covering his eyes for the most part. The pure black attire he wore on a regular basis made him feel even more untouchable than he already did.

"I've redesigned your clothes," the young tailor stated without much enthusiasm, pulling a folded stack of black fabric from a cubbyhole and gently passing it to the older. "I've added loops to the inside of your jacket in order to hold your....." he paused, sighing at the thought, "Specific weapon choice."

"Thanks," Renjun murmured, taking the outfit and perching it on his lap. "I'll try it on as soon as possible."

"Please do. Inform me of any mistakes."

"You don't make mistakes."

"I know."

As the ravenette eyed him carefully, he didn't think he'd have to bring up what he really came here for. Though apparently Chenle had no intention of handing over his 'special project'.

"About my weapon....." Renjun sighed, his eyes following the tall boy who proceeded to slide out a box from a different shelf and bring it over.

"I tried my best to fix them, Renjun. They're in need of replacing though, not repair."

"But did you succeed?"

"Of course. I don't understand though," Chenle pursed his lips, the tiniest hint of emotion showing through his cold and icy exterior, "Why can't you just go to Taeil and have him recreate the same thing but better? He's our blacksmith and weaponry expert."

"You know why I didn't ask him," the older huffed, ripping the box from the other's grasp and pulling the cardboard lid off. Inside, on a small cushioned surface, lay three pairs of scissors. One was a magnificent gold colour, as sharp as a razor and quite large. Another was sparkling silver, a different type which Renjun recognised as fabric scissors, and the last was an old and worn pair of regular kitchen scissors.

"Yes!" He hissed happily, pulling the ancient pair out and sliding the box aside. He kissed them fondly and opened them to inspect the blunt blade.

"I managed to fix the fulcrum, but in general I don't believe they have much life left."

"I'll just bring them back to you to fix again."

"Renjun, that's not how this works!" The ginger roared, anger bubbling up as rare as it was. "I. Don't. Fix. Weapons."

"Well Taeil told me he'd dispose of them next time I came back! I refuse to-"

"Let them go!"

"Ugh," the older scoffed, returning his sights to the kitchen utensil. "I won't. Mark gave me these, and I don't care how useless they are now. New scissors just won't be the same....."

"At least bring these ones with you," Chenle murmured, picking the gold and silver pair up that he had spent a very long time creating. "They'll protect you in the end. Those crappy ones can just be as a precautionary pair."

Renjun tilted his head, looking down towards the box again with disdain. "Sure. I won't use them though."

"We'll see about that. Now go. I have to fix one of Donghyuck's shirts."

"What happened to it?"

"Unlike your reckless ass that directly threw yourself into a grenade detonation, Hyuck just got shot at a few times. It didn't go through, obviously, but it broke my mesh."

Renjun merely clicked his tongue, sliding off the table and putting his new armoured clothing into the box, laying his precious scissors on top of them, and popping the lid back on. Then, holding it under his arm, he muttered; "See you around."

"I don't want to see you within the next week. Got it?" Chenle challenged, dark eyes laced with venom and murderous know-how. He was probably the worst they had, which was why Donghyuck kept him locked away in the base for a 'rainy day'.

The older Chinese boy stormed out of the lab, moving through the dark and winding hallways and briefly checking inside the blacksmith's room to see what was happening. Taeil was hammering at something, possibly a knife of some sort.

Of all the weird and wonderful skills the members of Jupiter possessed, it was the weapons that really made them. Mark Lee had been a rare leader to specialise in throwing daggers, preferring a safe distance between himself and his opponent. Donghyuck was another surprising arrival who used regular close-range knives. They were a part of basic training, yet he took them to another level.

Nana had been a legend with another seemingly 'ordinary' weapon. The basic handgun. He could somehow close to snipe with it, never missed his target, and dealt close range and long distance damage. On top of that, Mark had gifted him a very special model a long time ago. That very gun having been confiscated when Nana ran, and buried with the deceased leader.

When Renjun thought about it, his gut twisted in agony and his blood ran cold. He had never gotten along with Na Jaemin, even when Mark had urged them to. They were like fire and ice, and neither could agree to disagree.

But more than anything, Renjun couldn't forgive the traitorous ex-member for claiming Jupiter as his after killing Mark, and abandoning it three months in. Clearly he had tasted leadership and didn't like it very much. How immature and childish.

Like the other surviving members who hadn't fled Seoul or been slaughtered by Nana, Renjun refused to talk about him. The less his name flitted about, the easier it would've been to just let him go. His story was already told too often, and others like Lucas or Taeil, who had known him back then, didn't want to listen anymore.

Donghyuck had begged Renjun to share the tragedies of the past with him. To open up and let their current leader know what really happened. So he did, with few words and skipping minor details. After all, turning the young male against an outlaw wasn't a bad idea, and if Jaemin ever decided to show his face again, Renjun and Donghyuck would be the first to slit his throat.

That bastard will rot in hell for what he did to Mark, and to Jupiter. May his body be thrown to the desert and feasted upon by vultures.

The twisted and bitter mindset had essentially 'fucked Renjun up' for the past three years, and the shreds of sanity he actually possessed were minimal compared to the faking he put on all day. Really, Haechan didn't know who he was dating. The little scissor-happy attacker was far too shrouded by pain and mystery.

And that's how he wanted to keep it.

Donghyuck didn't need to suffer like Renjun had.

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