I lug my duffel bag up the stairs that seemed to get steeper with each step. I shoulder the door open, entering the main room littered with gang members. They chatted and whispered freely and they looked the most relaxed I've seen in a while. I press my lips into a thin line as I drag myself to the heaping pile of luggage strewn across the front porch. Some bags looked sturdier than others, some had dense metal shells and others had soft, withered cloth outsides. I slam, though I didn't intend to, my bag down, the noise alerting some of the men inside the house. They eyed me, but their stares didn't linger. I comb back loose strands of silver hair that has fallen out of my ponytail and stroll back inside.

   Unlike most people, who rise at the crack of dawn for the start of a road trip, the other men and I who were ordered to take part in this mission are set to leave around 5 p.m.. Taeyong said it was easier for us to leave and arrive at Melbourne with the darkness hiding us, but with how late mafia men stay up, I'm not sure this tactic will pay off. Preparing for the mission, that's what Yuta calls our trip, was well-thought out. Sicheng and Ten left after the meeting yesterday, and reported back early this morning. Turns out, our shipment was left completely in the open. From what I heard Jungwoo say, it was standing in the middle of the warehouse, unattended and deserted. Johnny mentioned that it most likely was a trap set up, and ordered for further investigation. We haven't heard from them since, and Xiaojun and Kun haven't been seen all day.

   Packing for our mission was nothing less than a shit show. Everyone, once they were finished packing one of their bags, dropped it or tossed in a pile on the porch. The bags, or portable safes is what they resembled, held the guns needed were stored neatly inside, and my guess was Doyoung managed it all. I had no problem packing for this mission. I finally had clothes that fit me, though there weren't many, and it all fit in a relatively decent sized duffel bag. During my practice last night with Doyoung, he gave me a knife that I could use if I was ever in danger. It was a large knife, almost the size of my entire hand, with the handle being black leather and the blade being a raven black. The knife was oddly beautiful, and I kept it in the inside pocket of my track pants.

   I sat myself down on the last stair leading up to the second floor, watching as what I believe to be the juniors loading up cars and vans with our luggage. The front door was ajar, allowing for golden sunlight to stream in and paint the floors the same color. It was sad to admit that I haven't seen the sunlight in weeks. Jungwoo leaned up against the banister, flicking his eyes down at me.

   "You excited?" He asked. Under his hat and frizzy tangerine hair, I could see a slight grin.

   "A bit. I still don't know who I'm riding with." My leg bounced habitually as my eyes darted from each man standing in the foyer. Some had on smiles, others had on frowns, but one person had on a scowl. And that man was Mark.

   "Well, take a guess." I could hear the smirk on Jungwoo's lips. "Who do you think you're riding with?" He slid his hands into his pockets and leaned further onto the banister. I scanned each man, raking my mind to remember how each man reacted towards me. Nothing matched; Yuta had on a smile, but I know he doesn't like me. Doyoung had a stern face, and me and him were neutral. The only person who's expression matched with their view of me had a creasing scowl on his face. I sigh, a breathless one.

   "Please don't tell me it's Mark," I say, staring up at Jungwoo's smug face. He chuckles and pats me on the shoulder, leaning in until his lips brushed over my ear.

   "Good luck, Yubin." I shove him away, though he hardly moved, and Jungwoo straightened up. He sauntered out the door, with a grin that made my teeth clench.

   "Alright!" I heard a voice from outside the door call out. "It's time to go!" The men perked up and started filing out the house. I stood up slowly, waiting for everyone to leave, before I stepped out into the world I was shut off from for months. My feet guided me out of the house and onto the porch, that was now bare, and onto a cobblestone path that led to a wide driveway. Several cars, each black, narrow, and sleek, lined the ends of the driveway. Two vans, both a silver color with logos plastered on the sides, stood humming in front of the cars. Doyoung and Jeno hopped into one of the vans, pulling on tattered hats. My eyes wander from the driveway to the house, whose exterior was similar to the interior. Rock walls, dark wood linings, windows that were surely fake. It looked like any other mansion. The house was set atop a hill, with a road leading down into an ocean of pine trees. Other houses sprouted up in the distance, each with a different style to it. This house looked normal, but it was far from it.

   The back door's of the van Doyoung and Jeno are in slam shut, and for a split second I could see the glint of one of the metal suitcases orderly stacked in the trunk. The sun was turning the ground a deep orange as cars started to pull out of the driveway, the ground crackling and engines revving. Someone appeared at my side, the sun giving his features a bronze glow. His sun-kissed skin seemed to sparkle.

   "Let's go Kang," Mark huffed, shrugging his sack higher up his shoulders. He stalked off to one of the cars, leaving me on the pathway alone. I turn to give the house one last mute goodbye. I don't know why I'm doing it, but I think the house is growing on me, starting to become a home. One of the juniors that were packing the cars, who I now know is Jisung, stands at the doorway. His fluffy, brindle hair hangs over his eyes as he gives me a sweet smile, waving like a little kid. I couldn't help but wave back, dashing off towards the car Mark slid into.

♦⟺♦

   "Where the hell are we? We've been driving for 3 hours and all I've seen are trees."

   Mark grips the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles growing whiter. Despite how frightened I was about riding to Melbourne with Mark, I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Every few minutes were random comments, typically either snarky or wonderstruck, or a complaint. Mark, based on the way his jaw tightened each time I spoke, tried keeping his cool, or is close to blowing it. I spent my time staring out the window, watching the trees melt into a thick wave of green and the sunset coloring the land until it was hidden below the horizon. It was a bright night, the moon giving us faint light, and the sky was a mix of navy and deep violet. It swirls and twinkled and shone; I never knew I would miss the night sky.

   "We take the backroads so no one can recognize us on the highway." Mark says, flicking his eyes up to the rearview mirror and back to the road. I could see his grip stiffen on the wheel.

   "That's fair.." I trail off, my eyes guiding themselves back to the now black abyss outside the car. The interior was well lit, the strips of light around the dash and screen from the radio enough for two people. A question, one that I've been hesitating on asking, found its way to the front of my mind. "Hey," Mark quickly glances at me. "Tell me about Neo City. I haven't understood all the mechanics and organization you guys have." Mark sighs, pressing a small button off the right side of the wheel. The wheel started moving on its own, like the car knew where it was going.

   "Autopilot. Neat, huh?" He sits back, looking proudly at the wheel. "Right so... Neo City. For starters, we are a mafia gang that specializes in guns. Weapons and artillery of all kinds, this is the gang for it all." I arch a brow, opening my mouth. Mark stops me with a hand. "Everyone here doesn't only work with guns. Kun works in programming and hacking. Sicheng works in investigative jobs, mainly spying, and communications. We all have our own talents, but as a whole we work to obtain and trade firearms." I nod slowly, newly forming questions dancing on the tip of my tongue.

   "Then why do you have so many people? 21 men is a lot to take care of." Mark chuckles, ruffling his blonde hair.

   "Taeyong likes to have too much rather than too little. He likes to hire people, newly blossoming adults with talents that peak his interests, and train them to be like me or Yuta or Kun. Once we get too old to work, or one of us unfortunately dies, Taeyong replaces them with one of the juniors. Also, having a lot of members can increase cash flow. We have, currently, 3 spies on our team. If each one of them, accompanied by someone from the Weaponry Unit, takes down a CEO and brings back what we aimed for, shit, we can easily make $10,000 on the spot." Mark's face radiates conceitedness, though it held no scorn.

   "So more people, more successful missions, more money." I question, shuffling to face him.

   "Bingo." Mark subtly smiles, a smile that if you blinked, you would have missed it.

   "So if there's 21 members, I sure as hell haven't met them all." Mark nods. "Who have I yet to meet?"

   Mark lets his head fall back onto the headrest, exposing his neck. He eyes dart across the roof of the car, faint mumbles escaping his lips, as he ponders on my question.

   "Well... since you're in the Weaponry Unit, you've pretty much everyone except Renjun. He's a fiery junior, quick with the replies and agile when it comes to shooting. I'll tell you hair colors, since it's one of the easiest ways to identify us. Renjun has thulian pink hair, at least that's what he calls it." His eyes dart from the rearview mirror to me, and I cinch my brows together, but push the gesture away.

   "Investigative Unit you know a few people in: Yuta, Sicheng, Ten." Mark continues, though he seems paranoid. "We have three other, too. Hendery and YangYang work as a pair, much like Sicheng and Ten. Both are undercover agents; they are on a pretty serious mission though, one that has taken us months to crack. Those men are jokesters. They love to mess around and act like kids. Hendery has long black hair, and YangYang has tawny hair."

   "Were they the men that nearly blew out Lucas's ears that one time?" I ask, a small chuckle following.

   "Yeah, they are the loud ones." Mark says, eyeing the side mirror. "We have a junior, Jaemin, in our Investigative Unit. He is a quiet one, only really talks to the other juniors. Amazing at persuasion and psychology. He has white, cloudy hair.

   Lastly, we have the Trafficking Unit, though we normally call it Comms. Kun, Jungwoo, and Xiaojun all work under this label. Taeil, who also is one of our medics, works as one of our hackers. He knows more about code than anyone else. He's a wise man, older than all of us, and helps Jaehyun with keeping the juniors in line. Taeil has grey-blonde hair. Our juniors, Donghyuck and Chenle, are both witty as hell. No lie can get past them. Donghyuck is training under Kun and Chenle does whatever he pleases. If he sees something he likes, he'll cut the security, grab Jaemin, and in under a day can have it in his hands. He's an incredible addition to the gang. Oh, and Donghyuck was tan hair, much like his skin, and Chenle has curly brown hair."

   Mark shuffles to look over his chair, his teeth gritting and face hardening. He plops back down and presses the button from before, turning the car over to him. He angles the rearview mirror down at him, inspecting it before biting out a curse. I sit still in my seat, watching as the once laid-back Mark turns back into the fierce man I walked in on last night. I wanted to ask what was going on, but I couldn't bring myself to. He pressed on the gas, the engine growling and the world outside speeding by. I get pressed back into my seat from the sudden acceleration, and I whip my head to look at Mark, who has his dark eyes shifting from the road and mirror.

   "Shit," He hisses out, pressing further down onto the gas. The car was edging onto 100 miles per hour, and the newly sparking fear started to bubble in my gut.

   "M-Ma-Mark," I stutter out, gripping the side door. "What is going on!" My eyes are wild, flicking from every little thing inside the car, as they land on my side mirror. From the darkness, though it seemed invisible, the thin outline of a black car was hot on our tail.

   "I forgot to change out the license plate for this car. Someone is on to us. It's probably those bastards from the Blood Angels." Mark flings the steering wheel to the right, causing the car to make the same sharp turn. I got thrown onto the door, but the pain went unnoticed.

   "We have to get rid of them." I exclaim. Mark tightens his grip on the steering wheel, quickly reaching down and retrieving a gun. I blink, my mouth hung open, as Mark rolls down his window. He shifts the gun into his other hand, and peers out the windows, swiftly pulling his head back in as the burning sound of a bullet whizzed by. My breath hitches in my throat.

   Mark and I are in a car chase.

   Mark fires out the window, the familiar ear-splitting sound cracking the air. He scoffs triumphantly, continuing to fire the entire magazine until the dull click replaces the firing. He whips the empty magazine from the gun and out the window, reaching down pulling out another gun magazine. I couldn't move; I was paralyzed, stuck to the back of the seat. 'You're in the mafia now,' I told myself. 'You should be used to this. Guns, fighting, blood. This shouldn't faze you.'

   But it did. It shook me, left me with a mental wound.

   "Kang!" I jolt and snap my head towards Mark, who has his eyes burning holes into the road ahead. "Open the glovebox and take out the gun. Roll down the window too. I took out the passenger by mistake, but I need you to take out their front tires." He locks eyes with me. "The place we're driving over is a giant ditch. If you blow out their front tires, they'll swerve off and into the ditch." Mark rushed out the last sentence, firing a glance over his shoulder and speeding up, if the car could go faster. The other car was, from what I looked like in the side mirror, inches away from the butt of the car. The windows were poorly blackened out, the edges of the windshield nearly transparent, and I could see the driver's wide sunglasses and defined frown. Next to him was a limp body, blood staining his face and dripping from the hole at his hairline. I sit back and gulp, messily undoing my seat belt and flipping my body so that I'm facing Mark with my back pressed against the glass of the window.

   "Mark the passenger is dead." I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

   "I know," He gritted out, firing more bullets out the window. "Just shoot the damn tires."

   "But wouldn't shooting the driver be more effective-"

   "Kang, just listen to me. I know what I'm doing. Shoot the front tires. Now!" He growled. He sharply leaned over to the glovebox, ripping it open and tossing the gun into my lap. He roughly closed the compartment, returning back to racing the streets and firing multiple magazines out the window. At this point, I've drowned out the sounds of the gun popping. I stare at the gun in my lap. I've never fired a gun, let alone hold one. I've only been trained in combat with knives, Doyoung said I'll start working with guns once we get to Melbourne. My ears have blocked all other noise besides the erratic beating of my heart and thumping of my heart against my ribs. I shouldn't be scared; I've seen Mark kill someone, though it left me a mental scar, and watched someone die. I've seen things a normal person shouldn't see, so why am I so petrified to pick up the gun. 'It's because if I miss and shoot the driver, I'll have blood on my hands.'

   I wrap my trembling fingers around the handle of the gun, the metal foreign against my skin. It felt heavy and odd in my hand, like it wasn't meant for me. I press the button on my side door, the humming of the window sliding down, and peak out of the car. The wind slapped my face, causing my hair to tangle and whip side to side. Luckily, the driver was on Mark's side, but that didn't stop them from aiming their gun at me. My eyes widen, and I lunge back into the car, just in time to hear multiple bullets whizzing by, cutting the air as they go. I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding and scoot back against the side door.

   "Hurry the fuck up Kang!" Mark seethed, tossing yet another empty gun magazine out the window. His foot was flat against the floor, suffocating the gas pedal.

   "I-I try-ying," I couldn't control my stutters. Everything happening all at once was overwhelming, especially since guns were involved.

   I barely stick my head out the window, catching a few glimpses of the driver that seemed preoccupied by Mark. 'Now's my chance. It's now or never, Yubin.' I told myself. I pulled my lip between my teeth and snaked my arm out the window, my grip tightening as the wind tried prying the gun from my hand. I aimed the barrel as best I could, the wind and spastic movements from Mark not helping, and close my eyes. I fire the gun, the whiplash yanking my arm backwards. I peel my eyes open, despite wanting to keep them closed forever and forget about the life I'll soon escape from, and scan the car still chasing us. I curse, throwing myself back into the car and shakily re-cocking the gun.

   I shattered their windshield.

   "That's good aim for someone who just shot their first gun," Mark said, skidding the car to the left. "But we need to get their-"

   "I know, their front tires." I snap. I press myself back against the door, now knowing what to do. Even though I was off by a lot, I grasped the concept of using a gun quickly. 'Mark won't like this, but it's the easiest way to get these bastards off our ass.' I thought, dangling my arm out the window. My unexplainable adrenaline rush left my mind numb; seconds ago it was going haywire, now that I'm determined, it left my brain confused, in still shock.

   "KANG! THE BACK WINDOW IS ALMOST BROKEN! KEEP STALLING AND WE'LL BE DEAD SOON!" Mark roared, spitting out curses left and right. The sleeve of his jacket was torn, and I could see the deadly crimson color inking his skin.

   My breaths quickened, I was almost hysterical, and aimed the gun once again. I could hear the pained whines and cries from the car as bullets bounced off the metal. It didn't help that the windshield of the chaser's car was cracked; I couldn't see him. I squinted my eyes and focused on the driver. Everything seemed to slow down. I watched as the driver flung his head out the window, readying to fire another bullet at Mark, who had his bicep hanging out the car. He closed one eye, steadying his aim. I inhaled softly, my index finger grasping the trigger, and pulled.

   I couldn't hear the gunshot, nor could I feel it's aftermath. My eyes were trained on the driver, who slumped forward, a splatter of red painting his face, and crumpled onto the wheel, their head hanging limply out the window. The car swerved, jerked as each tire was blown out, and clambered down into a ditch. A piercing, metal crunch erupted from behind us as I watched the car slam into a tree and stubble down into the darkness, taking the people's bodies with it. Then, it was quiet. The only sound was my laboured breathing and Mark's snarls, though his breathing quieted fairly fast. I slither my way back into the car, the still air strange against my skin, and sink into the chair, tears threatening to fall.

   "You did it Yubin." Mark breathed out, slowing the car down. "You killed someone. You helped us escape." He sounded proud, yet also infuriated.

   "You killed someone."

   "Yeah... I guess I did." I say weakly, rolling up my window and glancing at Mark, who looked like nothing ever happened, but his eyes stayed on fire. "Are you going to be okay?" I asked, motioning towards his arm. He gave it a quick stare and focused back on the road.

   "I'll be fine. I've had worse. It was just a bullet nipping my arm, nothing too serious." Mark said, his wounded arm falling to his side. "But what matters is you killed the driver. The back window is almost broken, and if it would have been shot maybe two more times, we would've been dead." He took his eyes off the road to look at me, his eyes now expressionless, but with a glint of approval, like I finally passed his test.

   All I could do was nod, my body still in shock and senses numb. Despite Mark's shower of slight praise, I couldn't bring myself to join in. One sentence replayed itself in my mind like a broken record, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was changing. Whether for good or bad, I knew I was different from the person who got kidnapped all those months ago.

   "You killed someone."

   I watched as the starless sky flew by, and with it, the thought that I knew who I really was.

so shit went down....

got a little deep near the end.....

mark is starting to warm up.....

idk how to write the next chapter....

Thanxx for reading!!