"Target sighted, 2 o'clock. You know the drill. We do our job, then we get out of here. Is it clear?"

After hearing the instruction, the man beside him nods mechanically with brows furrowing, hands gripping the handle tighter. They are about to embark on an important mission and losing sight of it, even for a second would mean disaster. They can't let it slip away, knowing that it's something that comes by once in a blue moon; an opportunity they can't miss.

He eyes his watch, counting down the seconds. He counts under his breath as the beat of his heart fills his ears, making him lose concentration. He glances at the man beside him again, then to the front before he nods. He notices the movement of another man and he follows it; catching every single move - the man bends down, slots in a key and twists it. It's the sign for them to begin their mission.

"Now!" he exclaims.

Both of them burst through the doors, knocking the said man in the process of haste, their targets now scattered all over the place.

"CHOI SAN GO AND GRAB THE COOKIES WHILE I GRAB THE CHOCOLATE MILK. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? DON'T TAKE THE ONES WITH RAISINS BECAUSE THEY HATE THAT." Seonghwa shouts over the noise in the recently-opened supermarket. When he receives an 'OK' sign, he shouts again, "Make sure you don't lose it, or Yeosang will be pissed again we don't bring back his cookies!"

After shouting another round of their shopping list, they go their separate ways, intending to grab everything before they are swiped off the shelves. The supermarket is having a warehouse sale, and all products are marked down until there are some being discounted up until 80%. Knowing it's not an opportunity to miss so that they can stock up their shelves without burning a hole in their pockets, Seonghwa had dragged his most beloved sidekick in grocery shopping - San - and lined up in front of the supermarket's entrance first thing in the morning. They were the first two people at the line, surpassing housewives and middle-aged women looking for cheap groceries.

With a trolley in his hand, San pushes forward through the throng of shoppers, the shopping list clear in front of his eyes. Then he spots it; the last box of cookies Seonghwa had sent him to get. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees a boy, around high school age, hands already reaching out to grab the box.

"Oh, not on my watch. You aren't taking those," he mumbles.

He abandons the trolley in his hand, cracking his knuckles and popping his neck. He takes one look at the box, narrows his eyes and takes a deep breath. He launches himself to the particular display shelf, his scream drowned in the noisy atmosphere, the boy fully unprepared of what's to come.

Before the boy manages to clamp his fingers on the box, he notices someone flying over the display unit, hands reached out, and snaps the box of cookies off it. That someone lands on the floor ceremoniously, holding up the box like it is a trophy and blowing strands of red-streaked black hair out of his eyes. The flying person smiles a dimpled one at him, shaking the box and mouthing the words 'better luck next time, kid'. Dumbfounded, the boy's mouth hangs open as he looks at the person calmly putting down the cookies in the trolley, already pushing the trolley into another aisle. He looks around, trying to see whether anyone else had witnessed the person somersaulting in the air like he is an acrobat, but everyone else is too busy trying to snag the best deals.

Whistling, San forces himself through the crowd, repeating his own part of the shopping list, the trolley he's bringing bumping into a person or another trolley every metre or so. He has gotten to the end of his own list, dumping the frozen sausages inside, placed on top of eight packets of fishcakes. Knowing that he has succeeded in his mission of grabbing everything on the list, he waits by the side, steering clear of people fighting over a fresh box of lemons. One of the boxes is torn, letting some lemons spill to the floor. It does not hinder them as they keep tugging at each other's clothes, stepping over the fallen lemons and hoping to at least grab a box of lemons. He only watches from afar, shaking his head at the scene.

"Look at them fighting like uncivilized people. I'm glad Seonghwa is not like that-"

He stops talking to himself when he takes sight of a man whose ash blonde hair is being pulled by an old lady who looks to be 70 years old. They are fighting over one wrapped raw chicken, seemingly the last of the poultry at the frozen section. Both Seonghwa and the old lady have trolleys beside them, each already having five packs of raw chicken. It looks like they are fighting over the sixth pack, with the old lady exerting the force unfit for someone like her; Seonghwa's body is almost folded in half as the lady pulls his head lower, her other hand holding a cane. Seonghwa is only flailing his arms around, knowing that he shouldn't be hurting an old lady. Still, his hands are trying to reach out for the last pack.

"Ms., I saw the chicken first! Please, I have 8 other mouths to feed at home," Seonghwa pleads. "Chicken is a necessity but it's expensive."

"I'm married, you buffoon, so call me Mrs.! I have my children and grandchildren to feed so I'll be needing that chicken. You don't even look like you're married so don't you lie to me about having 8 other mouths to feed. All these youngsters know what to do nowadays is lie. They don't even have a proper job."

"Mrs-" he gets cut short when the old lady smacks her cane against his legs, buckling him to the floor.

The lady dumps her hand into the freezer, cackling like a witch as she pulls out the last pack. "Get married and I'll believe you have other mouths to feed at home." She throws the chicken into the trolley and walks away with her cane, still cackling.

On the floor, Seonghwa glares at the old lady's back, defeated for not being able to grab it. He mutters to himself, "She's lucky that she's an old lady or I swear I'll snipe-"

"Don't do that," San appears beside him and helps him to get up. It's obvious that the younger is trying to stop himself from laughing. He bursts out laughing as soon as Seonghwa is able to stand, rubbing his legs at where he was hit. "I can't believe you lost to a grandma. She really smacked you with that cane of hers."

This time, the older shifts his glare to San. That shuts him up, and he asks, "Are you done with your list?"

San nods. "Everything's complete but I only got one box of cookies. It's the last one but I beat a boy to it."

"You beat him?"

The younger rolls his eyes. "Not like, physically beat him but I just, you know-" he splays his fingers, "-flew over the display and grabbed it before he did."

Seonghwa shows an impressed face but soon he reaches out for San's ear, twisting it until it's red. The latter shouts out in pain and he drops his voice to a whisper, "How many times do I have to tell you not to show off in public? What if people start to be curious, and then they dig around-"

"Alright, alright, mom, I won't do it again," San pouts and wriggles free of Seonghwa's grasp. "But what could I do? It was the last box and you know Yeosang will get pissed if he doesn't get his daily fix of cookies."

"Fair enough, I'm letting you go this one time."

"Like you always do."

"Keep quiet, you brat."

"But you still love me."

"No comment," Seonghwa replies, but his right hand pushes the trolley while his left hand reaches out to poke San's cheeks. He grumbles, "That old lady doesn't know what it feels like to take care of 7 other grown-ass men. I swear Hwayoung is more mature than all of us and she's just 6. How dare the lady told me to get married? In this economy it's hard to find a girlfriend, let alone a wife."

They line up at the checkout, and as Seonghwa spots the old lady that had pulled his hair two lanes beside theirs, he glowers before narrowing his eyes. When the lady does turn to him and spots him too, he bares his teeth, awkward. His face contorts, trying not to appear that he wants to jump over the checkout belts and snag the chicken from her trolley.

He turns to San. "San, I can let you go this one time but do you ever feel like you can jump over there-"

"We're not doing that to an old lady, Seonghwa. And you told me to not show off in public just minutes ago."

"But I need that chicken-"

"Nope. We deal with this maturely; we let it go. We already have five packs so we'll ration that. Anyone takes more than their decided portion won't get to eat for one whole month."

Defeated, he sighs and watches the old lady pay for her groceries. After she's done she wobbles all the way to the exit, cane in one hand and the paper bag of groceries hugged close to her chest with her other hand.

As Seonghwa eyes her and hands the cashier his card, he mumbles, "She was so strong when she was fighting over the chicken but look at her walking every step trying not to fall over. Where are all her children and grandchildren that she's going to feed? They're letting an old lady like her shop by herself."

San helps to divide the groceries into different recyclable bags, then carry them all at once. He heaves the bags while Seonghwa returns the trolleys to their rightful place. They board the car with Seonghwa driving, and they exit the car park of the supermarket, a car already waiting to replace them at their parking spot. Their car descends the ramp to exit, and as they enter the road, San is the first to point out the same old lady from the supermarket, still wobbling on the sidewalk, stopping every second or so to wipe the sweat off her brow.

She looks exhausted, the burning sun relentlessly licking her weathered and aged face. A slight feeling of pity creeps up on the two men as their car glides past her, their faces blasted with the cold air coming from the air-conditioner while the old lady doesn't even have an umbrella to protect her. Seonghwa takes one look at the lady who is about to cross the road, uncertainty painted over her face. She doesn't look too confident to cross the road and Seonghwa purses his lips. He immediately slams the brakes and pulls the car to the side however, when he catches a flicker of movement from his side mirror.

"What happened?" San asks, clutching onto his seat belt, stunned by Seonghwa's sudden action.

"There's someone suspicious idling behind the lady, and she seems completely oblivious. She's too focused on trying to cross the road."

He presses down a finger to unlock the door. One beat, two beats, then what he suspects to happen, does. The man behind the lady knocks her over in one swift motion using his arm, already targeting the purse tucked in the pocket of her dress. There is no one else paying attention to the crime that just occurred, leaving the man free to run in the direction of their car, the poor lady's purse already in his hands.

Big mistake.

San turns to Seonghwa on the side, who is already unbuckling his seat belt and his hand wrapped around the handle of the car door.

"We are not heroes," the younger laments.

"Exactly, and that's why we're going to help her. Heroes or villains, who cares?"