"The Seoul Institute was considered the leading research facility in the city-state, one of the only institutions to pre-date the Cataclysm. It brings to mind a question that few ever dared to ask: was it the monarchy that reinstated the Seoul Institute once society began to stabilize after the Chaotic Years ... or did the Seoul Institute create the monarchy?"

- Excerpt from an article on the Seoul Institute, author unknown

_ _

Taehyung has a plan. Sort of. The rough, outlined sketch of one that he's not sure will bring success or ruin but desperation inspires boldness. Or recklessness, Yoongi and Hobi would say, if they knew. Which is part of why Taehyung has kept it from them.

The Seoul Institute is a side project he's been chasing for years, outside of hiding the network as best he could from the eyes and ears of the crown. Because he knows a truth he's not sure the others have considered: burning a world down isn't enough. If you truly want to rebuild, you have to reach into the earth and dig up every rotted remnant, so that the old plants don't come back to choke the new growth. And the Seoul Institute, from all the whispers he's gathered, is the base of the entire rancid tree.

From them came the tattoo seared onto Taehyung's neck, the seals on Jungkook's wrists—so many dark and terrible things.

They also guard their secrets well, which is the wall Taehyung has run into over and over. They use Old World tech—the kind not in circulation anymore—which makes it impossible for him to hack them remotely with his scraped together code and hardware. So few people go in or out that the layout of the building remains a mystery, as well. He's heard rumors of an underground portion, where he suspects the archive will be, but has no idea how big that section is or how to access it.

They'll be going in blind.

"We're gonna die," Mark mutters when they convene the planned night of the break-in, after spending nearly a week taking turns surveying the building. So far they've located two hidden entrances that seem to serve as drop off for deliveries of supplies ... and sanctioned.

On the table in front of them is a crude map with the entrances and the main building marked. Notes scribbled in several sets of handwriting dot the edges: Ten chronicling delivery times; Jungkook noting the amount of guards stationed at each entrance; Taehyung calculating the typical number of sanctioned per delivery; Johnny making guesses at the kinds of supplies being delivered and the dimensions of the boxes.

They've already scrapped one plan to smuggle themselves inside via cargo—each box is scanned upon entry into the facility. Which leaves the much riskier option that Taehyung was hoping would stay as a backup.

"We're not gonna die," Johnny says to Mark with a shake of his head.

It's been strange, working with them in the past few weeks. Taehyung isn't used to having a team, but all of them are capable and clearly experienced. Perhaps even more so than him, when it comes to actual breaking and entering. They keep their pasts guarded close to their chests—something Taehyung doesn't blame them for, he still hasn't told them his real name—and their walls up, yet there is a kindred spirit that Taehyung thinks all Marked share, born of the tattoos on their necks and the collective horror stories they could spend hours telling if they wanted to.

"Says you." Mark's voice cuts through Taehyung's thoughts. He's got his elbows propped up on the table and his head in his hands—nervous fingers buried in his hair. "With the least dangerous job."

"We're not going to die," Ten says, seated across from them. He's been sketching on the tablet Jackson provided them with and a glance over his shoulder reveals startlingly accurate renderings of the Institute guard uniforms.

"Stop taking his side," Mark huffs. Ten smiles serenely at him.

It's also weird, watching another makeshift family's dynamics. Taehyung can't help comparing their easy banter to the gulf still between him and Jungkook, or the fact that he's barely spoken to Hoseok, Yoongi, and Jimin in days—too wrapped up in surveillance and planning to check in.

(And maybe too scared of what he'd find if he looked too closely.)

Speaking of Jungkook, he's huddled in an armchair in the corner, staring off into space. They're in another fancy apartment, since Jackson is both paranoid and seems to have an endless supply to loan out, and Jungkook's dark clothes stand out against the colorful yellow of the wall behind him. He's rubbing the seals on his wrists absently—a nervous tic he's developed recently and doesn't seem aware of—and he's tucked himself up smaller than Taehyung thought him capable of. He still barely speaks when they're in a larger group, and when he does it's never above a rasping whisper, like he's afraid of the sound of his own voice.

Taehyung takes a fortifying breath and crosses over to him, letting the others' continued bickering fade into the background as he crouches in front of Jungkook's chair. Of all of them, this plan is going to ask the most of him. It's why Taehyung never wanted to resort to it.

"JK-yah," he murmurs, aware of potential listening ears, and watches Jungkook's eyes drag down to him, finally focusing again. "Are you—?"

"Don't," Jungkook cuts him off with surprising command in his soft voice. "Don't you dare."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask," Taehyung points out.

Jungkook's mouth twists. "'Are you alright do this?' 'Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?' Right?"

Right.

Taehyung hides his wince. "I just want...." He's not sure how to word this—has never been good at words like Yoongi. He wants to make sure he's not asking too much. He wants to know that Jungkook won't hate him for this.

"I'm fine," Jungkook says before he has a chance to form the sentence he's looking for. "I've survived things you can't even imagine, hyung, and I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to help. You don't need to worry about me."

Of course I do, Taehyung also wants to say, but doesn't know how to make Jungkook understand it's a worry that comes from love and not pity or a lack of faith. So he clicks his mouth shut and nods. "Right. Sorry. Well, we're getting ready to head out."

They have the fake auction house records loaded onto Ten's tablet and the borrowed van waiting for them in an alley behind the apartment complex. Johnny's already dressed in the standard delivery uniform of most drivers in the city, no matter what cargo they're carrying. It's a lot of beige, Taehyung thinks—beige pants, beige button-up shirt, brown boots, and a black jacket with yellow stripes down the sleeves and a patch with the symbol of the monarchy (the mugunghwa, rendered in gold) on the left arm. Johnny's pulled the equally beige cap low over his eyes. He acquired the uniform a few days ago and Taehyung didn't ask from where.

The rest of them are dressed in auction house black—loose shirts and pants, soft shoes with no laces, low collars to make sure their necks are visible. Taehyung stares down at the fake seals around his wrists, painted by Ten, and ignores the shudder that runs through him. Jungkook unfolds himself from the chair with a nod.

"You have your ID?" Taehyung asks Johnny.

Johnny flashes him a smile and the forged ID card from Jackson, labeling him a certified driver for an auction house in Sector 4. "Good to go, boss."

Taehyung makes a face at him. This might be largely his plan, but he's no one's boss.

Ten hands Johnny the tablet, all drawings erased and replaced by the records of sale. Taehyung was able to hack the auction house database to add this scheduled delivery to their system, and even list Johnny as the driver, while Mark modified the cameras in both the delivery van and the apartment building to erase all evidence of them collecting it and bringing it here.

This is a reckless plan, but not a terrible one. Taehyung has to keep reminding himself of that to combat the endless flutter of nerves in his stomach.

They lock the apartment behind them, after making sure no signs of life are visible, and take the service elevator down to the back entrance. Jackson gave them the passcode to the door, but told them he wouldn't be here in person for "obvious reasons." Taehyung can't fault him for his paranoia. He might be the only one walking away from this unscathed.

Johnny punches in the code for the back door of the van and slides it open to reveal two benches and several sets of chains and handcuffs.

On either side of him, Taehyung hears Mark and Ten take deep breaths, blowing them out slow, but Jungkook brushes past him and climbs right in, jaw clenched and eyes hard. He glares at the side of the van as Johnny ties him in place, making sure the cuffs aren't too tight. Taehyung takes a seat to his right and Mark and Ten across from them.

Every sanctioned they saw delivered to the Institute had been drugged and deprived of sight by a hood over their heads. They'll have to act the part of stumbling incoherence, but Johnny's placed the black cloths within easy reach.

"I'll rap on the wall to let you know when to put them on," he says as he backs out of the van. "Good luck."

The doors close and the keypad beeps, sealing them in.

"I hate this," Mark announces into the inky gloom. His chains rattle and clink with his anxious fidgeting. "Why are we doing this? Nevermind, don't answer that, I know why. But this is still the most insane thing I've ever done. What if they catch us right away? We don't even really know what the offloading procedure is and if they can tell that we're not actually drugged, they might ... ow! Why'd you kick me?"

"Because you're not helping," Ten says. "At all."

"Sorry, sorry, I'll shut up."

Taehyung can't make out Jungkook's features in the dark, but he can see the outline of his bowed head and hunched shoulders—hear the quiet, deliberate steadiness of every inhale and exhale. Jungkook is keeping himself from panicking by sheer force of will. And Taehyung can't hold his hand like he wants to, but he is able to shift his body enough to rest his forehead on Jungkook's shoulder.

Jungkook lets out a faint sigh when he feels Taehyung's weight against him and moves closer—as much as he can with the short chains keeping them locked in place. The van rattles and rumbles around them like a living thing as it crawls through the evening traffic towards their destination. The sun set several hours ago and Taehyung's mentally given them until dawn to get in, get what they're after, and get back out.

A few minutes into the drive, Ten starts humming to himself—a folk song Taehyung vaguely remembers from his time in the orphanage—and Mark joins in. To Taehyung's surprise, so does Jungkook, swaying slightly to the melody. It's almost soothing, though not nearly enough to forget the cold bite of metal around his wrists.

He figures they've been in the van for about half an hour when a series of short raps breaks the silence that's fallen over them.

"That's the signal," Mark says, unnecessarily, and Taehyung hears cloth rustling as everyone reaches for their hoods.

Putting his on makes the claustrophobia even worse and he grits his teeth against the panic clawing at his throat. Across from him, Mark's breathing clearly picks up as well and chains clatter as Ten presumably tries to calm him.

"Almost there," he whispers.

"You act like we're arriving somewhere cool," Mark hiccups, but he sounds grateful beneath the sarcasm.

They don't know the entirety of the offloading procedure but from their limited surveillance, Taehyung knows that all arriving sanctioned are dropped off at what looks like a nondescript office building, not far from the Institute known headquarters. They're taken around to the back and walked through a loading bay door, usually escorted by two to three guards, depending on the amount of people being delivered. Ten spotted several cameras inside and what he thought was a decontamination chamber.

The cameras are going to be the hardest part, Taehyung still isn't sure how to get past them beyond going with the flow and hoping for an opportunity.

The van stops with a lurch and a squeak of old brakes. Voices echo from the front as Johnny mentions his delivery and presumably shows the guards the tablet with the orders on it. Taehyung can't make out actual words, but no one shouts in alarm, and the van starts forward again after less than a minute. Apparently, the guards stationed out here in the winter night don't care about being thorough.

The van stops a second time and now the driver's door opens and closes as Johnny exits to walk around to the back, accompanied by a pair of different voices.

"...I don't know," Johnny's saying as he comes with earshot. The keypad beeps with each number punched in, and the door clicks open. "I just go where I'm told. If this was unscheduled, you'll have to take it up with the auction house, not me. Filing complaints is above my paygrade, man. I just need you to sign on the dotted line."

A pause while someone presumably does just that.

"Thanks, they're all yours."

The door swings open and Taehyung holds his breath as several people climb inside. Foreign hands unchain him from the bench and drag him out into the cold. He can't see anything through the thick fabric of the hood except for a few dim bursts of light. The hand on his arm keeps a tight grip, fingers digging in, and he purposefully stumbles, letting himself be half dragged along.

"They never fucking tell us anything, do they?" an unfamiliar male voice grumbles as they leave the van behind.

"Of course they don't." A woman, answering. "We're lower than dirt to them up here, aren't we? No need to warn us about anything."

It seems like there's only two of them. Good.

The ground beneath Taehyung's feet changes from asphalt to concrete and the wind dies down, suggesting that they've moved inside. The hood is yanked from his head and he gasps at the blinding light, squeezing his eyes shut and swaying in place—only partially faking the disorientation now.

"Listen up," the female guard snaps. "Do as we say and don't try anything."

"Like they can understand you right now," the male guard scoffs.

Taehyung blinks and the world slowly swims back into focus. He's in a loading bay, just like the one Ten described—concrete floors, fluorescent lights, large decontamination chambers filling the cavernous space like strange fish tanks. Cameras blink from two corners of the room like all-seeing red eyes. The others are scattered around him, all of them forming a loose circle with the guards on the outside, dressed in gray uniforms and holding shock sticks.

"They're lucid enough," the female guard says with a shrug at her partner. Both of them seem disinterested—even bored—by this entire affair. This process of ferrying in human beings like cattle.

"Strip," the male guard commands them and points to a table with plastic bins on it. "Clothes in there."

"Wha-?" Mark slurs, swaying.

The female guard lifts her shock stick in obvious threat. "Take. Off. Your. Clothes. Now."

Jungkook stiffens, almost imperceptible but Taehyung can see the muscles of his shoulders tightening and his weight shift, ready to fight or flee.

Not yet, Taehyung begs him silently. They can't do anything with the cameras on them, but there is a service elevator on the far side of the room, past the decontamination chambers, and Taehyung suspects that's their next destination. Where they can make a move.

Jungkook must reach this conclusion, too, or Taehyung has spontaneously developed telepathy, because he forces his body to relax and starts to fumble at his clothes. He plays the role of drugged, disoriented prisoner too well. Taehyung tells himself not to think about it as he kicks off his shoes, tugs his own shirt over his head, and steps out of his pants and underwear. The air in here is still cold enough that he can see his breath and the goosebumps that immediately break out along his arms. He shivers, doesn't try to stop the chatter of his teeth.

Ten and Mark huddle together until the female guard threatens them again, prompting them to sloppily pick up their clothes and dump them into the bins.

They're all shoved into separate decontamination chambers and the cycles start automatically, triggered by motion. Taehyung gasps through the awful process of being hosed down with freezing water and then blasted by equally frigid air to dry him. Tries to remind himself that this will be worth it as he's dragged out and nearly falls to his knees—body wracked by aftershocks. A pair of white scrubs are thrown in his direction and he dresses clumsily, struggling to get his bearings back. He still ends up on the concrete after he finishes, his legs too weak to support him.

The elevator ... they just need to make it to the elevator.

A more familiar hand lands on his shoulder and he blinks up at Jungkook hovering over him, open concern on his face and skin red from the harshness of the water.

"No touching," the female guard warns and Jungkook swiftly shuffles backward, bowing in apology before she can shock him.

Taehyung pushes himself to his feet. Keeps his head down as he's shoved into line with the others—two and two, guards on either side.

The elevator arrives with a faint groan, doors rattling open like a clatter of bones. It's big enough to fit at least twenty people ... and free of cameras.

Taehyung holds his breath as the doors close and the elevator lurches into motion. There is only one stop it looks like. He shifts just enough to block access to the control panel and counts in his head.

One.

Ten adjusts his stance and next to him, Jungkook does the same. They trade a knowing look.

Two.

Mark subtly presses himself against the wall, pretending like he needs to keep his balance while he tucks himself out of the way.

Three.

Chaos. Ten and Jungkook explode into motion like bullets leaving a gun, slamming into their respective guards hard enough to throw them to the floor. The female guard shouts, but the sound dies in her throat as Ten snaps her neck with alarming ease. The male guard gurgles with Jungkook's hands wrapped around his throat, clawing at Jungkook's arms desperately. But Jungkook holds on and presses down down down until the man goes limp with a final rasp, limbs flopping lifeless to the elevator floor.

"Fuck," Mark says into the sudden, eerie quiet, still huddled against the wall.

"I won't ask where you learned to do that," Taehyung says to Ten as Ten starts stripping off the guard's uniform.

He looks a little ashen when he glances up—eyes haunted and shadowed. "Good, don't."

Mark moves to help Jungkook strip the other guard as the elevator continues its slow, rattling descent. Fuck, they're going deep. Taehyung shakes off the last of his shock and crouches by the female guard's feet to unlace her shoes. Ten and Jungkook rush to dress in the respective uniforms—Ten's a little tight and Jungkook's a little too big, but both fitting well enough—and transfer their own scrubs onto the guards.

By the time the doors shudder open at the bottom of the long descent, Jungkook and Ten are each holding a body upright and gripping their shock sticks tight.

They're in what seems to be an Old World metro station and Taehyung forces himself not to look around in shock at the ancient tiled walls and the small train waiting for them, along with two more uniformed guards—both men this time—flanking the open doors.

"Can you give us a hand?" Ten calls. "Two of them passed out."

The guards exchange an obviously frustrated look, but obligingly walk over to offer assistance. One, more astute than the other, glances at Ten's neck and sees the edge of the tattoo peeking out from the gray collar. His eyes widen in alarm.

"Wait—"

Jungkook moves, dropping the dead guard and kneeing the one closest to him in the gut. As the man doubles over, Jungkook hits him on the back of the head with the shock stick so hard Taehyung hears an awful crunch of bone, and he crumples to the floor in a heap, blood pooling beneath him. The other guard scrambles back, reaching for his radio, but Mark kicks him in the shin, giving Ten the opening he needs to dart forward and sweep the man's legs out from under him. He falls to the floor, hitting his head on the concrete, and Ten slams a booted foot down on his throat, crushing his windpipe in one fell move. Similar to Jungkook in the elevator, he stays there—boot digging in—until the guard's dying, frantic wheezes have trailed into silence.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Mark gasps, clutching his stomach.

Taehyung ignores him in favor of helping Jungkook remove the first guard's uniform.

"I think it will fit you," Jungkook says and it's strange to hear his voice after such a prolonged period of silence. Taehyung wants to ask if he's alright, if all this killing is too much, but the hard lines of Jungkook's face tell him that would be a bad idea.

So he just nods and dresses in the stolen uniform. Jungkook's right, it does fit. Mark practically drowns in the other guard's uniform but it will have to do.

They find a storage closet, not far from the elevator, and stash the four bodies inside. It's strange, Taehyung thinks, as they move back into the main station area, that there are no cameras here. The elevator he could understand, but this? Maybe the Institute wants as few records as possible of the horrors they commit here.

On one wall, a large screen projects a map of what must be the compound but...

"Holy shit," Ten murmurs.

...it's huge. Big enough to need train lines, to cover at least half of Sector 1 and a good portion of Sector 2, as well.

"What the hell are they doing down here?" Ten asks.

"We're gonna find out," Taehyung says and touches the screen. The map changes to show just train lines, of which there are four. Another tap brings up a list of areas: a cell block, a crew quarters (do other people actually live here?), a mess hall, several different wings of research labs, a section of offices, some kind of testing chamber that has its own station, and the central hub.

"This is where security must be," Taehyung says, tapping it. All the train lines feed to it, which means they can get there directly, but it's probably going to be heavily guarded.

Mark adjusts his collar, making sure his tattoo is fully hidden. "Somehow, I don't think we're gonna pass muster." He's had to roll up the pants of his uniform to keep them from dragging on the ground.

"We don't have a choice," Jungkook whispers.

He's right and there's no point in dwelling on their chances. Taehyung told Johnny they would be out by dawn and if they're not, Johnny will try to cut the power to the building to give them a window to escape. Now, realizing how massive this complex is, that will probably be a lost cause. So the clock is ticking, ticking, ticking.

Taehyung gets onto the train, trying not to gape at the technology around him. Old World—the kind he's read about in books, from a time when people walked on other worlds and flew across the sky in crafts of metal. The train powers up at the touch of Taehyung's feet to the floor, lights flickering on and engine humming to life. He swipes the guard's stolen ID card on the pad and watches a foreign name flash on the screen, followed by a list of destinations.

He presses the one of the central hub and the pad beeps in acknowledgement as the doors slide closed. A pleasant, robotic female voice asks them to please have a seat and a timer on an overhead display begins counting down.

"Oh my god," Mark says as they sink onto the plastic benches and the timer hits zero.

The train rockets into motion—smooth but terrifyingly fast. Taehyung grips onto a nearby pole rising from the floor, heart in his throat, as the tunnel walls blur past outside. The clock now seems to be counting down to their arrival time: one minute and thirty seconds.

"I can't believe they just have all this technology sitting around," Mark continues, shaking his head.

"Of course they do," Ten says, bitter. "Just like the elite hoard food. Why not this? I bet this is why we have so many blackouts in the outer sectors too. All the power goes here."

"When we arrive," Taehyung says, dragging his and their focus back to the task at hand, "we'll pretend to be arriving to take over a shift. I don't know how many guards are stationed there but if we can get into the security room itself, we might be able to overpower them."

"Great," Mark says, looking a little nauseous. Ten squeezes his shoulder in sympathy.

The train slows to a stop. Taehyung adjusts his own collar. Takes a steadying breath. The doors slide open, revealing a station similar to the first, but more modern-looking. No old, fading tile or dirty concrete floor. Everything here is clean and the walls are made of concrete too. It reminds Taehyung of a prison bunker—of the condemned buildings in the outer sectors crumbling to nothing but their metal and concrete foundations.

The two guards by the train nod at them without a second glance, lulled into security by the uniforms and the ID badges. No one looks close enough to see if the pictures there match the faces of the people passing them by. This, Taehyung thinks, is their greatest weakness: they think themselves invincible. In three hundred years, who has ever tried to break into this place? Every Marked that comes through is drugged and helpless and already subdued. No one here knows what a real fight is or expects an intruder.

Hopefully, that'll be what keeps them alive.

The station feeds into several corridors, and Taehyung follows the sign for the security center—the others trailing behind him. The path takes them to a nondescript set of steel double doors with a black card reader off to one side.

Taehyung swipes his badge, holding his breath, and the doors unlock. He steps into the room and takes rapid stock: four guards, all seated in front of three walls of monitors and control panels—live security footage for the whole complex. A panic button near another locked door on the wall. No guns at any of the guards' belts. No cameras in the room itself. Three of the guards are men and one is a woman. Two of them are tall and solidly built, potentially difficult to take out, especially with minimal fuss.

One of them—the largest of the men—swivels around in his chair to frown skeptically at them.

"Can I help you?"

"We're your shift replacement," Ten says smoothly, and he really does remind Taehyung of Jimin with his ability to lie and his lethal grace.

The other guards turn too, all obviously confused.

"Our shift isn't over for another two hours," Guard Two, the woman, says.

"Oh shit, really?" Mark squeaks, all wide-eyed dismay. "They just told us to come down here. Maybe we're supposed to train with you? We're new." He tugs at his baggy uniform shirt. "Couldn't even get me something that fits yet."

"They didn't tell us about any scheduled training," Guard Three says, brow furrowed.

"They didn't?"

"No," Guard One answers, then shakes his head. "But it could be they forgot. It's happened before. I guess we could show you the ropes."

Taehyung feels a little bad for what's about to happen to these people, but considering several of the camera feeds look in on cells where he can see imprisoned Marked curled up in corners or unconscious, not even provided with beds, the guilt doesn't extend very far. They sit here, day after day, and watch horrific suffering unfold before them without batting an eye.

"That would be so awesome, thank you," Mark is saying, drifting closer to Guard One with Ten trailing behind him. "I'd hate to have to go all the way back to my supervisor. He's a bit of a hardass, you know? Like yelling five minutes after I showed up that I was late, even though I was ten minutes early—who does that? And then he wouldn't even let me ask questions—"

He suddenly ducks down from where he had been blocking Guard One's view of Ten, allowing Ten to loop a stolen power chord around the guard's neck and pull.

Everything blurs into frantic chaos after that. Taehyung ends up grappling with Guard Four, dragging the man out of his chair and onto the steel floor. He's been in a few fights in his time in the outer sectors—knows how to hold his own—but he has nothing on Jungkook or Jimin and it takes a long time with his legs pinning the guard down and his hands wrapped around the other man's throat before he finally, finally stops moving.

He forces himself not to dwell on the fact that he just took a life and staggers to his feet, finally registering the calm that has settled back over the room. The other guards are dead and Ten and Jungkook are shifting them into the corner, propping them up against the wall and out of immediate view of the doors. Mark has moved back to said doors and appears to be tampering with the card reader, probably to temporarily disable it.

"Okay," Taehyung says and if it comes out a little shaky, no one comments on it. "They said they're at this shift for another two hours, which means hopefully no one will come in to interrupt us, but we also need to be out of here before their actual relief shows up."

He crosses over to one of the control panels and pulls up the map of the facility again, flicking through until he finds the archives. They're on a separate train line, near the opposite end of the facility.

"Mark, you stay here. See if you can get control of the system and warn us if anyone's coming. The three of us will go—"

A gasp cuts him off, followed by Mark rushing past him to pull up a different camera feed. It's one of the cells and a young man is huddled in the corner, staring at the wall with an empty expression on his face. He seems tall, long-limbed, even though he's folded himself up small and he would be handsome if not for the sickly pallor of his skin and the limp fall of his dark hair into his eyes.

"Ten," Mark rasps out, fixated on the monitor. "Hyung, it's Yukhei."

Ten looks up from where he'd been examining another control-panel. "What?"

"It's Yukhei."

Ten gets up, joining Mark to peer at the monitor. Taehyung watches the shock ripple across his face, followed by a mixture of awe and horror that he recognizes—is sure he's worn himself several times in the past.

"Oh my god," Ten whispers, lifting a hand as though he wants to touch the monitor and stopping himself short.

"We have to get him out of here," Mark says, sounding almost hysterical.

"We didn't come here to rescue anyone," Taehyung reminds him.

Mark shakes his head. "I know, I know, but it's Yukhei. I can't leave him here. I won't."

And Taehyung sees it then: on Mark's face and the white-knuckled curl of his fingers around the back of the chair—the tension coiled in his skinny arms and shoulders. This is Mark's Jungkook, a long-lost member of his family. Taehyung would have fought anyone who tried to make him abandon a chance to rescue Jungkook, and he knows that Mark and Ten are the same. It might put them all in more danger, but he's not heartless enough to stop them.

"Okay," he says, hands up to placate. "Okay, you and Ten go find him. I'll stay here and JK can head down to the archives."

He glances at Jungkook, trying to assess if he'd be okay making that journey by himself. Jungkook dips his head, an imperceptible nod.

"Are you sure?" Ten asks. "I can go with JK while Mark finds Yukhei."

"You're breaking someone out of a cell block," Taehyung points out. "That's more than a one person job. I'll keep an eye on you all from here, it's fine. Go save him."

"Thank you," Ten says, reaching over to squeeze Taehyung's shoulder. "Thank you, we'll be careful. In and out within the time limit."

Taehyung pulls up the map again. "The archives and the station where we came in are on the same line. There was minimal security in that section of the facility, so let's meet back there. You'll have to change lines again but it looks like you can do it at this sub station," he taps a dot on the map near the testing chamber, between the cell block and the research labs, "without having to come all the way back here."

"Got it," Mark says. He holds up an earpiece that he probably lifted from one of the guards. "We can stay in touch with these too. Close frequency so no one else should be able to hear us."

Taehyung takes an earpiece, as do Jungkook and Ten.

Aware of the ticking clock, he shoos them towards the door. "Go, and be careful."

"You too," Ten says, attaching the shock stick back to his belt. "See you on the other side."

Alone in the security room with Jungkook, Taehyung opens his mouth and feels around his upper gum, carefully dislodging the small device he'd secured there before they left. He wipes it off on his uniform shirt and hands it to Jungkook.

"It's a data drive," he explains as Jungkook turns it over in his palm. "I built it and it looks small but it should be able to store a lot. Get as much as you can, we can sort through everything later."

Jungkook nods and tucks it into the front pocket of his jacket. Taehyung swallows around the grit in his throat and the sudden constriction in his lungs. So many things he wants to say and not enough time for any of them.

"Please be careful," is what he settles on. He hadn't factored in this separation—being stuck here in a booth, only able to watch Jungkook from the monitors.

"I will," Jungkook promises. He puts the uniform cap over his head and checks to make sure the collar is hiding his tattoo. "You too, Taehyung-ah."

And then he's gone, slipping through the door. Taehyung breathes out slow into the eerie calm and takes a seat in front of the main control panel.

_ _

Jimin wakes up with jolt, needing a moment to remember where he is and why he's only wearing underwear. It's still the middle of the night, but he can tell that dawn is approaching beyond the windows of Seokjin's bedroom.

Seokjin.

He turns, looking down at the man asleep beside him. He's on his stomach, sheets slipped down to his waist from Jimin's movement, and the long line of his back feels endless, so much skin. Jimin smooths a gentle hand down his spine, surprised by his own tenderness. By the depth of the feelings raging in his chest. He doesn't do this. Doesn't love like this, doesn't take off his armor like this, and the logical part of his brain is already reminding him of all the ways this can go terribly wrong.

But his heart remembers Seokjin shaking on the couch, horrible words falling from his mouth, and Seokjin kneeling in the snow, refusing to fight back even though he could have, even as Jimin buried a fist in his stomach.

Stay with me, Seokjin begged him a few hours ago and refused to let Jimin get on his knees.

Maybe they're all owed a little tenderness. Maybe he can settle the furnace inside of him for just a little bit longer.

He leans down and brushes his lips against the curve of Seokjin's shoulder, feeling him start to stir. He kisses up to the back of Seokjin's neck, lets his teeth scrape gently, and Seokjin shivers. Wakes up fully.

"What time is it?" he asks, voice a sleepy slur as he turns over on his back.

"Early," Jimin says.

Seokjin sighs and reaches for his phone, which finally stopped buzzing sometime during their migration from the couch to the shower to bed.

"I have to go," he says, sitting up.

Jimin doesn't bother asking where. He knows and the furnace dials back up a notch. "No," he says, loathing the resignation on Seokjin's face and the echoes of shame in the hunch of his shoulders.

"This is what she wants," Seokjin argues. "I have to give her what she wants, Jimin-ah. So she'll give us what we want."

"Give her me," Jimin tries because he can't bear the thought of both Yoongi and Seokjin letting themselves be hurt while he's safe. "I'm the one who fucked up tonight."

"It's me she wants. She was always going to ask for this," Seokjin says. "It's a test, I have to pass it."

"Fuck," Jimin snarls and wants a match, a gun, anything. He wants to pin Seokjin to the bed and keep him safe. He wants to reach into his chest and scoop out this bloody mess of a heart because anger is easier than this strange, aching mix of grief and desperation and the slow creep of things he hasn't let himself feel in a very long time. Because not loving this man who has shared so much with him would be easier.

Infinitely, painfully easier.

It's too late, a little voice whispers that Jimin struggles to ignore.

"I'll be okay, Jimin-ah," Seokjin assures him and throws back the covers, climbing out of bed to start dressing. "I'll give you my number and I'll try to be back before Yoongi, but text me if anything happens."

Jimin gets out of bed too, snagging Seokjin's arm. As Seokjin turns towards him, he rocks up to kiss him, not thinking about if it's the last time. Seokjin kisses back almost desperately, wrapping an arm arm around his waist and pulling him close.

Jimin watches, after that, as the mask slides back on Seokjin's face and he smiles, all aloof, charming confidence. "I'll be back before you know it," he says with a wink and then he's gone, leaving Jimin alone in the quiet of the apartment—heart seething and bloody and still pinned to his arm where he's worried it might always remain.

Exposed, vulnerable, dripping red all over the pristine floor.

_ _

The train vibrates gently beneath his feet as it hurtles through the tunnel. Jungkook rubs his wrists and reminds himself to breathe, breathe, breathe. He's not a prisoner and he won't be one again. He'll get the data Taehyung needs and he'll get out and someday, this whole place and whatever horrors linger here will burn.

He remembers the cool floor of his second master's living room and the scratch of pen against paper as he gasped and shook against the tile—fire in his veins, his blood, his lungs...

Breathe.

The train glides to a stop and, same as before, he nods to the guards when he exits, striding quickly past them. This station is older and more cavernous, with only one path sloping slightly downward, even deeper into the earth. Several other corridors branch off once he's turned a corner, but fortunately there is a sign pointing him in the direction of the archives.

"Jungkook-ah," Taehyung's voice crackles in his ear. "I see you on the cameras, you're almost there."

Jungkook glances up at the blinking red light pointed down at him from the ceiling and nods in silent acknowledgement.

"There's a big door ahead of you," Taehyung continues. "You'll need to scan your ID."

Sure enough, as Jungkook rounds another corner, there is a massive set of double doors blocking the path. Reminding himself to stay calm, calm, calm, he strides up to the door and touches his stolen ID card to the keypad.

It flashes red. Then a message appears on the screen: ACCESS DENIED. LEVEL 3 CLEARANCE REQUIRED.

" I don't have clearance," he says and hears Taehyung curse under his breath.

"Hang on."

Jungkook shifts his weight, feeling terribly exposed in this hallway with its cameras. This whole complex reminds him of a prison—all concrete walls and floors and steel doors and harsh fluorescents. Or a space station, like the ones he saw in an Old World book on Seokjin's shelf. Everything economical and spartan, designed for functionality above all else.

Yet one of the sections on the map was a private greenhouse of some kind, so perhaps whatever staff live here have it different. Probably. That's the way it usually goes, and he can't examine the dark satisfaction he felt killing those guards—a dangerous taste of long-awaited vengeance.

"Okay," Taehyung says, mercifully pulling his thoughts away from circling that abyss, "it looks like you'll be able to get in through the ventilation system."

Jungkook looks up at the vent above his head. "The vents are bolted down."

"Not all of them. Go back the way you came and take a left. "

Jungkook pivots and walks quickly, keeping his head down. He gets back to the main intersection of corridors and follows Taehyung's direction down the narrowest of the three, with a sign that informs him he's headed for the hardware labs. Like the previous corridor, this one is also deserted. Most of the staff are probably safely asleep in their nice quarters on the other side of the complex.

"Okay stop."

Jungkook halts in the middle of the corridor. Looks up to see another vent above him, but this one is dented and loose.

"Someone put in a maintenance order for this one, but it hasn't been fixed yet."

"Convenient," Jungkook mutters.

"Guess someone out there is on our side," Taehyung says.

Jungkook jumps and dislodges the vent cover with his hands, shoving it to the side. It rattles loudly and he freezes, listening for any approaching footsteps.

"You're still clear," Taehyung assures him.

On the next jump, he grips the edges of the vent opening and hauls himself up. The burn in his muscles feels good in a visceral way—he's spent far too long cooped up in an apartment. Crouching in the narrow shaft, he replaces the vent cover. It's cold enough that his breath clouds the air, but he pushes aside the discomfort.

"Okay, hyung, tell me where to go."

"Straight and then left."

Following Taehyung's directions, Jungkook starts to crawl. Left. Right. Right. Left. Left. Left. Right. He passes over the hardware labs, all darkened, but through the slates in the vents he can see equipment laid out on workbenches, including models of the shock stick attached to his belt and vials of what is probably nanotech.

He shudders and keeps crawling.

Right. Left. Left. Right.

"...then we'll have to up the dosage."

He freezes at the female voice—the familiar voice.

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god oh god—

fire in his veins, his lungs, his nerves and a scream ripping his throat raw but stuck between his teeth and she peers at him over the top of her notebook and her glasses as he shakes on her floor he's dying he's dying oh god he's dying and she's just going to watch why he's been good he'll be good he's done everything he can to—

"Jungkook-ah. Kook!"

Taehyung. That's ....

He crashes back into his body, realizing that he's curled up on the metal floor between two grates and at some point he clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his staccato, panicked breathing—

a trick he learned after she punished him for his weakness, for his inability to keep from hyperventilating when she—

the voice is still talking, passing below him. "Exactly. Then do it. I don't have time for delays."

And Taehyung, still in his ear: "Jungkook, what's wrong. Fucking talk to me, are you okay? Kook!"

"I'm okay," he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut as the footsteps of his second master retreat further down the corridor and her voice fades away. (He wants to laugh. So many people called her a doctor, he should have known what that really meant—all the files she kept he wasn't allowed to look at and all the things she gave him that hurt or made him floaty for days...) "I'm okay."

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Jungkook grits his teeth and pushes up onto his hands and knees again. "I'm close, right?"

Taehyung hesitates.

"Taehyung-ah," Jungkook snaps, harsher than he means to be. But they can deal with this later— have to deal with this later. The clock is still ticking.

"Take a left up ahead," Taehyung says, voice calm again.

Jungkook mentally thanks him for his understanding and keeps crawling, trying not to imagine shadowed memories nipping at his heels like angry wolves.

A few more turns and he's stopped in front of the grate that will let him down into the archives. According to Taehyung, they're empty, so Jungkook doesn't worry about noise as he grips the edges of the grate with both hands and braces his back against the frigid wall in order to pull it free from its bolting. It groans loudly and an edge digs into Jungkook's palm deep enough to cut skin, but the grate comes off.

"I'm in," he tells Taehyung and drops down into the room.

He's not sure what he was expecting when he listened to Taehyung talk about the archives, but it wasn't this. The room is huge, extending what must be at least thirty meters above his head—the ceiling actually lost to darkness. The walls are lined with hundreds and hundreds of databanks, glowing like stars, and on the ground level towering shelves rise out of the gloom, holding what look like Old World materials. As he drifts closer, he realizes that each box is labeled: books, photographs, scientific journals....

Thousands of years of knowledge and secrets, all stored in this single room.

"Holy shit," he breathes, turning in a slow circle to try to take it all in. "Hyung, you should see this. It's massive."

"I knew it," Taehyung breathes triumphantly. "Do you see a central console anywhere? Or any computers at all?"

He moves past the first few rows of shelves and sees a circular space cleared out. Several consoles rise on pillars from the concrete floor and he stops in front of the closest one.

"It's password protected."

"Doesn't matter. Insert the chip I gave you, it'll do the rest."

Jungkook fishes the small data chip out of his pocket and sticks it into the slot on the front of the console. After a moment, complicated lines of code fill the screen and then a bar, indicating the drive is downloading.

"It's working," Jungkook says in awe. "How did you make this?"

"It wasn't easy. Got my hands on some Old World salvage. There's a market for it in the outer sectors, if you know who to talk to. We won't be able to get everything obviously, but I'm having it search via keywords, so hopefully we'll still find some relevant information."

"I can't imagine we wouldn't."

Jungkook runs his hands over one of the metal boxes on the shelf. It's locked with a keypad and the flashing label on the front says it contains film reels from 1965 to 1975, almost four hundred years ago.

How were they able to preserve so much?

He drifts back over to check on the drive. Just over fifty percent of its capacity downloaded. Hopefully—

An alarm blares, so loud and sudden that Jungkook jerks. It continues—red lights flashing somewhere above him and a steady, deafening drone that makes his ears ring.

"Shit," Taehyung gasps over the radio. "Shit, Mark and Ten tripped something in the cells, you have to get out of there, Kook. They're locking down section by section. Run—"

Jungkook is already moving, yanking the drive free of the console and sprinting towards the vent opening. He hauls himself up with a running jump as bars slide down over the walls of data banks, sealing them behind protective steel.

Thanking the stars for a visual memory honed by years navigating the hidden pathways between sectors, Jungkook retraces his path through the vents as fast as he can crawl, uncaring of how much noise he's making because even here the shriek of the alarm washes out everything else. Taehyung has gone silent, but Jungkook hopes that means he's focused on his own escape and hasn't been caught.

The damaged grate comes into view and Jungkook shoves it to the side, swinging down into an empty corridor. But he can hear the approach of hurried footsteps and takes off at a sprint towards the substation, drawing his shock stick as he goes.

The guards by the train are panicking, clearly unused to this kind of emergency. One is shouting into his radio while the other stares anxiously down the corridor. Jungkook doesn't slow as he gets closer to them, even when the one not on the radio raises a hand.

"Hey, we're in lockdown, no train access until—"

Jungkook hits him with the shock stick. He doubles over with a cry and Jungkook skids past him into the train, slamming the button to close the doors. The other guards bangs on them but Jungkook ignores him as he chooses arrivals from the destination menu and the timer starts counting down. He keeps his back to the doors, not wanting the guard to see his face, and grips one of the poles as the train glides into motion, leaving the shouting guard and station behind.

"Taehyung-ah," he gasps into the radio. "Taehyung, are you there?"

Crackling static and Jungkook fights off a wave of panic. He can't lose Taehyung now, after finally finding him again—not when there is so much he hasn't said, so many things they need to talk about—this is the boy he loves and—

"I'm here."

Jungkook hiccups, pressing his forehead to the metal pole in weak-kneed relief.

" Oh thank god."

"I'm nearly to the substation."

"Have you heard from Mark and Ten?"

"No."

He hates the prospect of leaving them behind, but he's selfishly glad that at least Taehyung is alright.

"They're still shutting down the facility," Taehyung says. "The trains are probably going to be last because they're moving people around. But we'll need to go as fast as we can once we make it to the substation. The loading bay and elevator might be sealed off."

"We'll make it," Jungkook says. The timer tells him he'll be arriving at the station in thirty seconds.

"I'm here," Taehyung announces. "And Mark and Ten are too. They have Yukhei with them. They lost their radios somewhere, but they're okay."

Another relieved breath. Maybe they'll all survive this, after all.

Jungkook's train pulls up behind Taehyung's and he rushes out of the doors. No guards have arrived here yet and Taehyung is standing by the elevator, gesturing at him to hurry. He rushes inside and Ten smacks the button to close the doors.

Him and Mark look a little worse for wear, Jungkook notices. The sleeve of Mark's uniform is torn and he's sporting a cut above one eye. Ten has a bruise on his cheek and a large tear across the front of his jacket. Next to them is the tall boy from the video feed, dressed in white scrubs and wearing an expression of shock that suggests he thinks he's still dreaming. He's holding Mark's hand so tightly it looks like it might take a force of nature to separate them.

"I'm sorry," Mark pants out. "We didn't even realize we'd tripped something. Got into a scuffle with some of the guards and didn't take one out fast enough..."

"It's my fault," Taehyung insists, also breathing hard. "I should have been paying attention."

"It doesn't matter," Ten says. "We made it—"

The elevator screeches to a halt and the light goes out. Mark laughs in high-pitched panic.

"You were saying?"

"Fuck." Ten presses the button again. Nothing. The lockdown has caught up with them.

But Jungkook isn't going to be captured again—never, ever again.

"Come on," he says to Ten and points to the maintenance hatch above their heads. "I'll give you a leg up."

Understanding dawns quickly on Ten's face and he puts one foot in Jungkook's cupped hands, allowing Jungkook to lift him high enough to get the hatch open. He pulls himself through then reaches a hand down. Jungkook gives Taehyung a boost next, then Mark, then Yukhei, who turns around to help pull him up.

"We're pretty close to the top," Ten shouts, peering up at the doors they can see maybe ten meters above them.

"Start climbing," Jungkook rasps, pointing towards metal rungs along the wall. "Hurry."

Taehyung goes first, scrambling up the ladder. Ten follows and Mark pushes Yukhei gently in front of him. "Go first, I'll keep an eye out."

Good call, since Yukhei still seems shaky and off-balance.

Jungkook takes up the rear, breath caught in his throat. The alarm is still going, though much more distant now.

Come on, he thinks desperately as they climb. Come on, come on, come on....

Taehyung reaches the doors and pulls himself up, balancing precariously on the ledge as he tries to pry them open. Ten joins him and together they manage to force the metal back just enough to let Mark and Yukhei scramble through. Jungkook grabs the edge of the door when he makes it to the top, taking Taehyung's position.

"Go," he gasps as he digs his heels in and presses his back against the heavy door.

Taehyung lets go, rushing out into the loading bay. Jungkook waits until Ten is clear and then lets go, as well, jumping free of the closing doors. Mark and Yukhei are weaving through the maze of decontamination chambers at a full sprint, careening towards the loading bay door that is slowly lowering.

Jungkook pushes himself as hard as he can, snagging Taehyung's hand to pull him along as he starts to fall behind—focused on the narrowing gap between them and the outside.

Mark makes it through, Yukhei on his heels. Ten follows, dropping into a crouch to duck under the door. Jungkook shoves Taehyung in front of him, watching Taehyung scramble through the gap, then pitches himself forward into a roll, hitting the ground hard and tumbling free just before the door closes fully, sealing off the facility.

For a moment, Jungkook lies on his back on the concrete, gasping up at the dark sky above him—just beginning to pale with the first blush of dawn.

Get up, he tells his aching body and his tattered nerves. You aren't done yet.

He pushes himself to his knees, becoming slowly aware of a voice shouting at them. It's Johnny, near the guard gate.

"Come on!" he yells, gesturing towards the van behind him. "Come on, move."

With a battered wheeze, Mark staggers to his feet, bending down to help Yukhei up. "We're almost there," he gasps. "Come on, we got this."

Jungkook stands, ignoring the tremors racking through his legs, and sucks in a heaving lungful of air. Ten has already helped Taehyung up and together, the five of them force themselves into one last sprint. As he passes the guardhouse, Jungkook notices the bodies slumped just outside it—Johnny's handiwork, probably—and then the open door of the van looms in front of him and he hauls himself inside, yanking it closed behind him.

The engine starts and the van lurches forward as Johnny rushes them away from the loading bay and back into the city.

"Oh my god," Mark says from Jungkook's left, slumped against one of the benches. "Oh my god, we did it."

Ten laughs, breathless. "We did it."

Jungkook feels hysterical laughter bubbling in his throat. Lets it bleed out into a grin as Taehyung's hand finds his in the dark and laces their fingers together.

At last, after all this time ... a victory.

_ _

Johnny drives them to the border of Sector 1 and 2, finding a quiet parking lot to stop the van. When Jungkook climbs out, he isn't sure if he's going to be able to stand, but his legs hold him. He leans against the side of the van and watches Johnny hug Ten in what seems like a rare display of affection, stark and painful relief over his face as he bends down to press their foreheads together.

"I'm okay," Ten reassures him. "We're all okay." And he inclines his head towards Mark and Yukhei. They're back to holding hands and Mark stares up at Yukhei with so much adoration that it makes Jungkook ache. He thinks he might have looked at Taehyung like that once. Maybe he will again, someday.

Johnny shakes his head and wraps first Mark, then Yukhei up in a tight embrace. "I can't believe you're here," he says over Yukhei's shoulder. "We thought we'd lost you."

"Me too," Yukhei croaks, eyes wet.

Mark and Ten join the huddle, ducking under Johnny and Yukhei's arms, and Jungkook watches them—this family reunited—with a full heart.

"A lot of good things tonight," Taehyung says, resting against the van next to him.

"For once," he agrees, shifting to look over at Taehyung.

They're both messes—uniforms dirty and marred, faces red, sweaty hair sticking to their skin—but for the first time since they've been reunited, Jungkook wants to kiss Taehyung so badly he's shocked by the force of it.

He sets the desire aside as the huddle breaks apart and Ten turns to face them. "Thank you," he says.

"I think we should be thanking you," Taehyung says with a shake of his head. "This wouldn't have been possible without you."

"We should probably debrief or something, shouldn't we?" Mark asks.

"Later," Taehyung decides. "We should split up for now. Lie low. I'll contact you."

"Whatever information I can give you," Yukhei says, looking haunted. Jungkook can only imagine what he's been witness to, been forced to endure. "I'll share it."

Taehyung bows to him. "Thank you. It would be much appreciated."

"We'll be in touch," Johnny says. He hands Taehyung the bag of supplies they'd left in the van and heads for the driver's seat again.

Ten climbs in beside him while Yukhei and Mark get in the back, closing the door behind them. Taehyung takes Jungkook's hand again as the van drives off, leaving them alone in the parking lot.

"Thank you too," Taehyung says softly. "For agreeing to this crazy plan. Believing in me."

Jungkook shrugs. Believing in Taehyung has always been easy. "Thank you for believing in me too."

Taehyung looks at him. Bites his lip. Jungkook can clearly see what he wants, what he's holding himself back from, and decides to be brave. He shifts forward, closing the distance, and presses his lips against Taehyung's.

Taehyung makes a shocked noise, but then his arms wind carefully around Jungkook's waist and he returns the kiss. It's easy, in this moment, high off victory and survival. It won't stay this way, he knows that, but briefly the monsters in his head are silent and all he can feel is Taehyung. It's like they're standing on a rooftop again, the world at their feet.

When Jungkook finally pulls away, Taehyung is beaming at him—a smile Jungkook hasn't seen in so long, the boxy kind that puffs Taehyung's cheeks up and scrunches his eyes nearly closed. Taehyung doesn't try to kiss him again, doesn't push him for anything else, and Jungkook loves him loves him loves him.

"We should change out of these uniforms," is all Taehyung says.

They leave the pants, but switch out their jackets and shirts for the ones in Taehyung's bag. Wrap scarves around their necks to hide the tattoos. The data drive goes in a secure case in Taehyung's pocket.

As they leave the abandoned parking lot behind, Taehyung checks his contraband phone and frowns.

"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks, the high of their success already dissipating.

"Jimin. He says to come back to Namjoon's apartment, not Seokjin's."

"Did something happen?"

Taehyung looks up at him, fear on his face. "I'm not sure."

Jungkook grabs his hand and squeezes. "Let's go. We can catch a cab back."

Taehyung squeezes back and they hurry towards the main road. Above them, the sky continues to lighten—blue gradually chasing the black of night away.