Though my eyes were stamped shut, I could hear as clear as day. The bat connected with something and I felt warm liquid splatter up my arms and on my cheeks. Whatever the bat hit made a grisly crunch, earning a whine from the metal container that something was slammed against. I heard a clipped, broken sob before something fell to the ground, carrying the bat with it, but I was strong enough to keep my arms stiff. The bat was wrenched from whatever it slammed into, creating a horrendous sound as it pried itself from the thing. My breaths were ragged and laboured, and it felt like the air in my lungs was on fire. I inhaled deeply, and peeled open my eyes.

   The first person I saw was Yuta standing in front of me, aghast. He was staring at me like I was a ghost, like he was terrified to see me. His face was dotted with red, some even inching down his jaw. My eyes fell to the bat gripped between my white fists, spazzing with how tight I was holding it. The bat was dripping with someone else's blood, the nails and wood discolored and drenched in that wicked crimson color. I watched a droplet fall, and my eyes caught onto what I hit, no, who it hit. Another man, this time with curly red hair, lay dead on the concrete. His face was mutilated, the only color visible being red. It flowed down his neck and pooled in his open palms. My eyes flicked by up to Yuta, whose face was now eerily serious.

   "Leave... " My voice came out almost like a growl. "Go... Go, before I realize what I'm doing." My breaths still left me in long, hoarse strings. Yuta didn't waste a second; he nodded before dashing off into the warehouse. I've drowned out the gunshots at this point, and the only thing controlling me was the adrenaline coursing fiercely through my veins. I knew that after all of this was over, I would most likely break down, but right now I had my mission in mind.

   And that was to help fight off these assholes that call themselves the Blood Angels.

   A bullet whizzed by my ear. I could feel the heat from the bullet as it flew past me. I cracked my neck with a simple twitch of my head and ducked behind another shipping container, this one inches away from one of the walls of the warehouse. The bat was hard to grip, my hands sticky with blood, so I threw it to the ground. Multiple footsteps charged towards the container, but I quickly slid across the cracked pavement and spotted an opening near the edge of the wall, one that looked like it was cut open rather than naturally there. I smirked, and just as three men with guns rounded the corner, my body was under the opening and through in a matter of seconds.

   The inside of the warehouse was humid. It was hot and sticky, causing the sweat on my brow to double and roll down my neck. It was darker too, a dark that was easy to hide in, and there weren't a lot of spare items to hide behind. In a moment of panic, I dashed for a grimmy tarp covering several rotting, wooden boxes. The tarp crackled under my boots, but no one heard from over the gunshots, which are now ear-shattering. I took a deep breath, combing damp strands of hair from my face, and peered over the tarp-covered boxes.

   It was like a scene from a movie. Yuta and Doyoung were crouched down by a rusted and broken machine, firing their guns over the tops of pointed metal gears. Johnny and Taeyong were behind a similar tarp draped over boxes. Johnny was at Taeyong's side, his shoulder pressed against the boxes and his arms extended as he unloaded his gun towards the other side of the warehouse. It looked as though Johnny was sheilding Taeyong from the shower of bullets raining down on them as Taeyong had himself flattened against the boxes. Mark was the only person alone; he was pressed up against a metal support beam, his arms littered with cuts and bruises as he threw an empty gun magazine to the ground. He ripped another one from his belt and kneed the new magazine into his weapon, spinning to bolt across the room. Several shouts erupted from the other members, but Mark kept his pace as he shot.

   He ran towards the other side of the warehouse, where there were dozens of masked men with guns. Each man's gun was pointed at Mark, and before they could pull their triggers, he dove behind a heaping pile of rusted pipes ahead of me. The pipes rumbled as Mark threw himself against them, hissing out curses with each breath. The gunshots continued, though it sounded like there was less with each passing minute. Mark's breaths fluctuated, his chest heaving up and down as he panted heavily. He gritted his teeth and leaned his head back, rolling it to the side to glare at his arm. My eyes fall to his arm as well, seeing a thick strip of crimson inking his skin. I exhale heavily, my lungs screaming as I do so, and unsheathe a knife from the band around my bicep. I spun it around my knuckle, watching as Mark pat his hips then mouthing a curse. I placed the blade onto the stained concrete of the warehouse and took a deep breath. 'He wouldn't like this, but he'll eventually thank me...'

   I whip my arm, sending the knife trapped under my palm flying across the ground. It buzzed as it raced along the cracks of the concrete and bounced off Mark's boot. The weapon clattered sharply, gaining the attention of Mark and a couple masked men behind the pile of pipes. He snatched up the knife hastily, looking around alarmed, before his eyes landed on me. Several emotions flashed in his eyes. His mouth dropped open, and he leaned forward, narrowing his eyes, as if the heat inside the room was making him see things. I was about to move, to do something to tell him I was safe, but an arm hooked under Mark's chin, lurching him up. He clawed at a man's forearm, but the man only laughed wickedly and placed the barrel of his gun against Mark's temple. The masked man's finger graced the trigger, but then Mark plunged the knife into the man's bicep, blood pooling around the blade. The man tightened his arm around Mark's neck, so he dragged the knife down the man's arm, blood flooding out from the gash and down both mens' arms. The man trapping Mark staggered back, clutching his arm that gushed crimson, allowing Mark to clamber onto his knees, snatch the man's gun, and shoot him on the side of the head. The man dropped lifeless, a dull thud echoing off the walls. It then went quiet. 

   Just as I was about to scurry over to where Mark was, a hand gripped my hair, yanking me back. My head slammed into the concrete, my vision blurring and fading. The metal beams split into two and started dancing around my eyes. A figure stepped in front of me, and I could faintly make out the outline of a handgun. Fear bloomed within me, and with as much strength as my waning body could collect, I kick my foot at the man's chest. My blow must have been intense, as it sent the man to the floor with his gun falling from his blood-stained fingers. My vision was still patchy, but regardless, I lunged for the gun and aimed it hurriedly at the man. He curled his body and groaned, slowly shouldering himself up. His eyes caught onto the gun clamped between my fingers and his chapped lips curled into a sickening smile. My palms were sweaty, making it hard to properly grip the weapon, and with each step the man took my heart seemed to lurch along with it. My panting increased, becoming strained groans, and right as the man's boot grazed my ankle, I pulled the trigger.

   The gunshot resonated throughout the warehouse. It seemed to ripple off my skin and my shoulder screamed against the whiplash of the shot. I had my eyes squeezed into thin slits, but I still saw everything. His head practically exploded; the bullet buried itself into the man's head, creating a spray of blood to sprinkle the concrete. He fell with prolonged drops; first onto his knees, then onto his shoulder, and finally withering into a ball, a lake of crimson forming with each passing second. My still, stunned silence was broken by thundering footsteps. My eyes stung and were hard to keep open, my head felt as though it was the arm of the man Mark stabbed, and my skin, which was caked with blood and sweat, crawled.

   "Yubin, what the fuck are you doing here!" Someone shouted. I blink away the black dots clouding my vision and glance up. Doyoung hovered over me with a mix of emotions flashing through his eyes. Annoyance, worry, concern, rage, it all swirled across his face. He eventually crouched down and hooked his arm under my back, helping my stand, which proved to be harder than I thought it would be. As I wobbled and staggered against Doyoung's arm, another person came barreling around the boxes.

   "Jesus Christ, Yubin, what the hell!" Mark boomed, throwing his arms up in the air. "I could have died, you could have died. What the fuck were you thinking?" He sounded upset. My head pounded, earning a pained groan as I dangled my head down at my feet.

   "Is she okay?"

   I felt Doyoung's neck shake. Something warm ran down my neck.

   "Your welcome," I slurred out, catching both men off guard. "If I didn't give you that knife, you would've been worse off than you are now." My eyes flitted over to look at Mark, who wore a frown, one that resembled sympathy, but it was hard to tell through the dots.

   "Not really, but, I guess there is no harm in saying thanks." Mark quipped. He pulled something from his belt, spinning it along his knuckles, before extending his arm and splaying his fingers. Resting in Mark's palm was the knife I slid to him, dripping with the man's blood. It collected against his rough skin, and I tentatively grabbed the knife and squeezed its hilt. I look back up at Mark, giving him a feeble nod.

   A gunshot rang throughout the warehouse, causing heads to turn and conversations to halt. Each pair of eyes landed on their leader, who was standing with his heel crushing the throat of a struggling Blood Angel. Everyone hurried to Taeyong's side, either with malicious or contempt smiles. Doyoung aided me as I walked, it felt as though I was drunk, and held me up as Taeyong continued to add pressure onto the captive's neck.

   "Before I blow a hole through your head, I would like you to enlighten me on why you did this stunt?" Taeyong's voice was bitter as he bit out each word. The man under his boot let out a strangled squawk, causing the men around me to laugh maniacally. "Was it to impress your friends, hm? To prove yourself worthy for some higher level mafia? Or was it simply to piss us off, because you sure as hell did that." His face was closer to the other man's face, his chin nearly at his knee. The man's breaths barely came out, and when they did, they sounded like ghostly howls. Somehow, the man underneath Taeyong's boot laughed, though it sounded more like a sob.

   "You have no idea what you just got yourself into," The man coughed out, blood starting to trickle out from the corners of his mouth. "Take your guns back, we don't give a shit. But m-mark my words," He choked on his words, blood beginning to paint his cracked lips, "We're coming back for th-ose two." Taeyong didn't let the man finish regardless if he was done talking or not, connecting his foot with the concrete with a nauseating snap. The man was now lifeless, along with dozens of other men littering the warehouse floor. I dig my fingers into Doyoung's shoulder, the pounding in my head becoming unbearable. He tightened his arm around my shoulders and lifted me up, trying to help my stand straighter.

   "Boss..." Johnny said with an edge of uncertainty, "Was he talking about Yangyang and Hendery?"

   "Who the fuck else do you think!" Taeyong roared, whirling around. He stormed through the crowd surrounding him, jabbing his finger over his ear.

   'Lucas. Jeno. Do you copy?'

   'Yes Boss.' A voice crackled back. Lucas's.

   'Do a sweep of the area before turning back. When you get back to the base, gather everyone in my office.' Taeyong then ripped the earpiece from his ear, pocketing it aggressively.

   The warehouse door blew open, early morning light pouring into the gloomy building, and everyone's heads turned. Yuta strode in with a bundle of clothes gripped in a closed fist, a stubby cigarette trapped between his lips. He spared a quick glance at his Boss, his eyes widening ever so slightly, and made his way over to Mark. They both started to inspect the clothes, shaking them wildly and eyeing them with as much hatred as if they were looking at the person that was once inside. I opened my mouth to speak, but a wave of nausea and dizziness overtook me, causing my legs to give away. Doyoung caught me just before I hit the ground, shrugging my arms up his body. His fingers firmly pressed against my sides, only further increasing the thrumming in my head.

   "You're going to be okay, Yubin..." His voice faded in and out. "... taking her back to the base.... mild concussion is all." My throat seemed to close as I heard those final words.

   The last thing I saw was Doyoung's gritted teeth under a concerned frown before the black dots consumed my vision.

♢⟺♢

   I woke up from the muffled slam of a door. My eyes traveled along the pale walls of a room, then too the navy sheets of a bed. A pang of pain striked across my forehead, elicting a rough groan. My head felt like glass; it was fragile and heavy, a single touch caused a ripple of pain. As I picked myself up with sudden jerks, my hand traveled to my head, as if holding it would provide any comfort. That's when I felt the coarse stirps of bandages. My heart dropped to my stomach, and as my fingers ghosted over the bandages that wrapped my head, they landed on a damp patch. I exhaled shakily and brought my fingers to my face, nearly shrieking when I saw the pad of my index finger tinted scarlet. My breaths came out in irregular huffs, and it felt as though the walls of the room were closing in on me. I fling the sheets off me, practically scrambling off the bed, and rip open the door.

   I was greeted by silence. Perfect. I scampered slowly down the hallway, my eyes wandering the walls and the other member's doors. I latched onto the stairwell, stepping down as quietly and painlessly as possible. My head not only throbbed, but it felt like my whole body did too. I didn't know where I was going either; I just wanted to get out of that room. 'Whose room was it?' I thought to myself as I rounded the banister, nearly stumbling into the main room. I place my hand on the back of the couch, trying to steady my wavering vision. As I lift my eyes from the couch that seemed to split into two, I see someone outside beneath the moonlight. He's leant up against the glass lining of the balcony with something gleaming between his fingers. I make my way over to the balcony as quietly as I can, and when I slump myself against the ajar door, his eyes flick over to me.

   "I knew I heard someone," He mumbled, thrusting himself off the glass. I couldn't tell who it was, but as he got closer and grabbed my arms, I saw it was Doyoung. He had on a melancholy smile, and as he helped me over to where he was originally standing, I could feel something cold thumping against my bare arms. Doyoung rested me against the railing, falling back onto the glass. He sighed and parted his lips, bringing a half-full beer bottle up to his mouth and taking a prolonged sip. Once he was done, he brought the bottle back down to his side, licking his lips clean before speaking. "You feel okay?"

   "It still hurts." My voice came out weak and scratchy. Doyoung lightly touched my jaw, tiling my head away from his, then back.

   "We'll need to change your bandages soon." He sounded like he was going to cry, his voice trembling.

   "Do you feel okay?" I asked, shifting my feet closer to the glass railing.

   "It's been a long day..." He trailed off, looking out over the balcony. It was strange seeing Doyoung like this: quiet and despondent. I followed his eyes, finding what could only be described as a painting that came to life. A mass of trees huddled together below my feet, slowly dissolving into a sandy beach. The beach was sprinkled with dark, pointy rocks, and waves slammed into the shore, creating a symphony of sounds that could lull one to sleep. It was beautiful. "And a lot of things are on my mind." Doyoung fished my from my daze.

   "Would it help if you talked about it? Get it out in the open and off your shoulders." I asked tentatively. Doyoung smiled sweetly, taking another long sip of his drink, before clearing his throat.

   "Well... I had to make sure you were okay first, regardless of what Taeyong said. Luckily, you only suffered a mild concussion, and Taeil said you'd be back in the field in about a week or so." He paused, glancing at me then the ocean. "You remember the clothes Yuta brought back right?"

   I furrow my brows, then nod feebly. "The ones him and Mark were rummaging through?"

   Doyoung hummed in acknowledgement. "We took those back because Yuta said there was valuable information on them. All there really was were a few bullet shells and a name tag."

   "What did the name tag say?" I asked, inquisitive.

   "Xiaojun had to run it through a couple systems, but he eventually found out that this person stole a keycard from 17's casino, Casino Carat, if that rings any bells."

   "Oh shit it does." I say, but my voice didn't convey the enthusiasm I felt.

   "And what makes this find more alarming is that the keycard was one used by the head of the casino: Choi Seungcheol. So..." Doyoung raised the bottle back to his lips, downing the rest of the drink. "This poses a great deal of questions. How did this person obtain this card? Did they steal it, or was it given to them? If it was given to this person, did they work there? You also have to account for what the man under Taeyong foot said, whether or not it was a measly threat or held some truth."

   I exhale heavily, as if some of the weight on Doyoung's shoulders got put onto mine. "Are any of you going to follow through with your theories?" The man across from me snorted, tossing his empty bottle to the ground, where several other empty bottles were scattered.

   "Taeyong doesn't want anyone to do anything that could anger other groups, seeing as we just killed half of the Blood Angels' members, but Yuta insisted we do something. So Lucas and Jeno were ordered to scout the casino and the buildings surrounding. They haven't returned, but it's only been three hours, so I don't expect them to until morning." I arch a brow, eliciting a 'what' from Doyoung.

   "How long have I been out for?"

   He let out a prolonged sigh, his eyes drifting from me to the trees below. "Oh... maybe a day, give or take a few hours." My eyes widened, and it felt as though the thumping in my head increased too.

   "A day!" I exclaimed.

   "You got a concussion, that's the typical recovery time. Calm down..." His voice was comforting, rather than his normal bitter tone. He chuckled and flickered his eyes between me and the house. "Jungwoo was livid when I brought you home. If I didn't hold him back when the others came back, Mark would have been torn to shreds." He snickered, a large smile gracing his face; I couldn't tell if it was genuine or from the heaping amounts of beer, but his smile was contagious nevertheless.

   Just as I was about to open my mouth to speak, a sharp line of pain streaked across my head. It caused my vision to blur, my hands to shake, and my legs to nearly give in. Doyoung noticed, taking both my shoulders and spinning me to face the door. "I think we should go and change your bandages. The quicker you change them, the quicker you can get back to resting." I didn't have the energy to protest, so I complied and let Doyoung guide me back through the house.

   My mind was a zoo; questions whirled around like cars, throbbing pain strained my nerves, and it never slowed down. I wanted to do this, I wanted to do that, but everything was overshadowed by the gash that caused me so much agony. Doyoung led me down a hallway, but where I was going was the least of my worries. While I was being lifted onto a firm bed, my mind made its way to Doyoung. We've been getting closer as the days pass, but I couldn't help but think why he was out drinking so late. Was it simply stress, or was it something more?

   A damp cloth is pressed against my forehead, pushing away my thoughts and letting my newfound weariness take over. 

maFIA SHIT HAPPENED LETS GOOOOOO

expect more of it in the future ;)

Thanxx for reading!!