The engine's growl was amplified by the metal walls of the garage, the tools and weapons hanging by nails rattling like wind chimes during a storm. Mark thankfully turned off the engine, peeling himself off the bike. I mimicked him and dropped my helmet near the tire, shaking and picking at my silver hair. My hair reminded me of iron rods; it was relatively the same color and would stay in clumps, like rods or vines, around my face.

   "If you keep messing with your hair, you'll only make it worse." Mark was leaning against the doorway leading out of the garage, hands buried deep in his pockets and a small smile gracing his typically hard face.

   I huffed and abandoned my attempt at fixing the mess, trying my best to ignore some rogue pieces of silver dangling before my eyes . "Do you think we woke up anyone?"

   Mark shook his head, falling back and into a walk. I followed. "No one really sleeps - well, except the juniors and maybe you."

   "How come?"

   Mark shouldered open a door, entering the kitchen; it looked the same as it did when we left. He tapped his temple with his finger and looked over his shoulder down at me. "Trauma."

   Though I didn't intend for it, my words came out bitter. "What does someone like you see when you fall asleep?"

   Mark scoffed. "Things way worse than you can ever imagine."

   "What, monsters?"

   "One could call them that." He strode through the foyer and rounded the banister onto the stairs. "But then again," He added, slowing down and taking languid steps, "people like us are considered monsters, so what's the difference." He threw me a thin smile, one as eerie as a graveyard.

   I shuddered and shoved at his back. "Quit being so creepy."

   "You asked the question, so I answered. And it's the truth, whether we choose to believe it is our decision alone." He planted his foot atop the second floor and spun around. He set his head askew and shrugged. "That's your life now. We're monsters, killers, demons amongst the living."

   I knocked my shoulder against his and slithered my hand into my pocket. "Next time we go to that bar, you're not allowed to have any whiskey." I whipped out the card Shotaro gave me, the plastic like sunlight against the shadow shrouded room. "I have his number too, so don't think to pull a fast one on me."

   Mark laughed - well, it was more a chortle and hollow like bones. "For all I know there could have been poison in that drink."

   "Good. It's an easier way to get rid of you." I smiled and turned, starting down a corridor. The card suddenly was plucked from my fingers and my wrist was caught in an iron grip.

   "You aren't allowed down this hallway."

   I jerked my wrist free - which surprised me a bit - and turned to give him a questioning look. "Why? Something you don't want me to see?"

   "No, more so things you aren't allowed to see. This is the Bosses Hall. Mine and Johnny's are on the right, and Boss's is on the left."

   "And am I going to get shot if I continue?" Mark pursed his lips and tilted his head as if in thought.

   I fired him an incredulous look and stepped towards a white door, its gold and twisting handle cold against my palm. "So be it, I suppose."

   "Wait Yubin, that's the wrong-"

   I swung open the door and a head of faded orange snapped up. Jungwoo paused, mouth open slightly, and drew his eyebrows together. "What are you two doing up this late?"

   "Monthly bar run." Mark grumbled, shoving past me into the room.

   It was a decent-sized room with the same sand colored walls as the rest of the house. Along the left wall were two bookshelves lightly decorated with worn books and redundant sheets of paper, separated by another white door with heavier gold locks. The right wall, where Mark was, protruded a long desk that stretched to and from the back wall. Two clusters of cabinets hung in the corners above the desk, and the desk itself was cluttered with crumpled paper and sticky notes, empty paper cups and folders spilling even more marked paper. I watched as Mark grazed his fingers over a particularly grimy piece of paper, violently shook it, and held it up to the light.

   Jungwoo, who was standing next to a large circle table that took up most of the room, came up to me and snapped his fingers. "The card."

   I gave him an astonished look and frowned. "He has it."

   "Catch." Jungwoo turned and flung his arm up. Between his fingers he held Shotaro's key card.

   "Perfect." He picked at his collared shirt and sped back to the table. I only now saw the lake of scribbled papers and black-and-white portraits where he stood.

   "What are you doing?" I asked, stepping forward and peering at the sea of grey and white.

   "Quit being such a wuss, this is nothing that'll kill you." He beckoned me over, ripping a cushioned chair out from under the table.

   "I seriously doubt that." I plopped down into the chair and Jungwoo slid me a paper.

   The paper was monotonous; it lacked any color aside from a red circle that encompassed a window with a fuzzy silhouette with a raised arm. Words riddled the page like a newspaper clipping, and the pictures were nearly indistinguishable from each other; one picture, however, was of a man. It looked to have been taken quickly and furtively, and the man in the picture is seen conversing with someone, a devious smile painted on.

   "Why is this relevant exactly?" I picked up the paper and inspected the picture of the man closer. He had longer hair and glasses with a chain at the stems.

   "I've been ordered to do a friendly check-up on the members of 17." His face was hidden by a sheet of paper.

   "And lemme guess, Sungchan gave you these." Mark was sitting on the far left corner of the desk. "Can I keep this?" He added. Jungwoo swiftly looked up in time to catch Mark waving a folded paper in his grasp.

   "Sure, you'll need it anyways."

   "I'm confused, what's going on?" I demanded, slouching back in my chair.

   Jungwoo chuckled. He fetched a pen laying beside the papers and tore the cap off with his teeth, hastily scrawled something onto the paper he was holding, and capped the pen. He slid it behind his ear and spoke, "I need to make sure none of the remaining members have taken up any side jobs or moved positions. Sungchan, which you were right about, sent me these files. Each is about a member and what they do and contribute to the gang. Like I said," He shrugged, "A simple check-up."

   "Then what did Mark take?"

   "A map of the casino." The man said.

   I sighed. "Which member do I have in front of me?"

   Jungwoo leaned over and narrowed his eyes, latching onto the paper and spinning it to face him. Suddenly, he made an amused sound from his nose and shook his head. "Xu Minghao, 17's chaser and one of the best snipers I've ever met." He tilted his head. "Grew his hair out, huh?"

   "Is this just an excuse for you to reminesine on past memories, or are you actually doing your job?"

   "God, Mark was right. You ask too many questions. You've gotten fiery too." Jungwoo slid the paper back into the ever-growing pile. Across the room, Mark snorted.

   "So, the monthly bar run was a success?" Jungwoo said after a moment's silence.

   "Johnny and Kun stayed behind 'cause Doyoung got drunk beyond reason again." Mark explained.

   "So that's why you're the only ones to come home." Jungwoo mumbled.

   "Yuta made friends with the bartender at Hansol's bar. Hey, did you know that -"

   "You guys went to Hansol's?" Jungwoo exclaimed. Mark nodded, though his eyes were busy scanning a torn newspaper sheet. "Screw this shit, I wanted to see him."

   "Oh, quit whining he wasn't even there." Mark said, flipping the paper.

   Jungwoo halted, his hand frozen over a notepad. "Then where was he?" His voice was dangerously low.

   "Who knows, that guy is wild. Makes sense why Yuta liked him so much." It got quiet again.

   "Well, who was bartending that night."

   "Remember that associate Sungchan was ordered to find?" I said. Jungwoo looked down at me, looked off into the distance in thought, then nodded. "Well guess he has a side job because we found him working at Hansol's bar."

   Jungwoo blinked, surprised, and rummaged through his pocket prior to fishing out Shotaro's card. "So this isn't your card Mark?"

   The man mentioned shook his head, sighing out a laugh. "Nope." He discarded the paper he was reading, letting it float to the floor.

   Jungwoo inspected it closer, before closing his eyes and sighing. "Remember to use your fucking eyes, Kim Jungwoo."

   I chuckled, letting a smile crease my face. Across the room, I saw Mark smile too.

   "So, aside from acquiring his key card - holy shit you got his key card!?"

   Mark and I let out howling laughs, Mark nearly falling off the desk and my hand clamping so hard onto the lip of the table that my knuckles turned white.

   "You should really listen to Kun and get yourself some glasses." Mark said through a wheeze. I nodded, my smile so wide that I began to hurt. Jungwoo frowned and threw a pen at him, and Mark quickly dodged it, which only made me laugh harder.

   "But how the hell did you get this? You remember how hard it was to even get Mingyu to lend his to Taeyong, and that guy really gets around." Jungwoo asked, clear bewilderment laced in his voice.

   "You've got to remember that Sungchan and Shotaro are trying to teach 17 a lesson. Bring 'em back to what they were, or however he worded it. I mean he didn't fork it over without a fight," I said, combing back strands of hair that had fallen over my eyes. I leaned over and hovered my hand over the lake of papers before wiggling one free and positioning it in front of me.

   From the corner of my eye, I saw Jungwoo roll his eyes. "Now what do you think you're doing with-"

   "That's him!" I slammed the paper onto the desk, alerting Mark and making Jungwoo flinch slightly. My finger frantically jabbed at a candid photo of a busy bar top, blurred colors of people's suits smeared across the photo and people sitting at the bar laughing. Behind the bar, with a hat pulled low over his eyes, was Shotaro. "That's Shotaro. Sungchan's associate friend."

   Jungwoo leaned over my shoulder and hummed. "Fits the description. Looks like a trickster too, I would watch your backs." He looked up at Mark.

   He cleared his throat. "I always am, Woo." He paused, causing me to look up at him. I met his eyes and gulped. "Say, you should head to bed Yubin, you have a day full of training tomorrow."

   "What are you now, my mother?" I scoffed, dropping the paper and letting it drift onto the table.

   Mark chuckled and smirked. "At this rate I am. Now go to sleep before I force you up in a couple hours."

   "What's the point of going to sleep if you're only letting me squeeze in like four hours."

   He sighed. "It's better than nothing. Now go." His voice was firm, but there was something else laced between his words that I couldn't quite make out.

   "Fine Mom." I rolled my eyes and got up from my chair, not bothering to push it in and dragging myself to the door. "Don't get mad at me for being grumpy in the morning."

   "You always are grumpy."

   "And you're always mad."

   I closed the door before Mark could retaliate. 

im sorry this took 80 billion years to get out 😭

i just got motivation for like all of my works so expect shit to my flyin at you soon

Thanxx for reading!!