tell me, would you kill to save a life ; 3/14

[januarys_lovers]

Captain Do Insung hasn't come to the Police Station before five am in a very long time. Being at the top of the PVPD has its advantages - alas too few for the number of cons - and his long-time favourite has always been the absence of night shifts on his work schedule. Being a cop in Port Ville is hard enough, but being a cop during the night in Port Ville is almost suicidal, and he sure doesn't miss the lingering tension, the lurking threat. How are there still young people signing up to the police academy is a mystery to him, but Do Insung has long stopped trying to make a sense of this God-forsaken city.

Although this is exactly what is expected from him right now.

He greets the few policemen left in the station on his way to his office, the lack of sleep still heavy on his face. This case has every cons possible and absolutely zero advantage, because here he is, entering his office at the ungodly hour of four and fifty in the morning. Another attempt at robbery, six bodies, an old rumour coming back to life, and he's the one supposed to clean the mess.

Do Insung freezes, his fingers hovering over the switch of his office, the wooden door closing behind him. His eyes fall on the dark silhouette standing next to the window, and he feels even more aware of the tiredness gnawing his muscles. He lets out a sigh as his arm falls back against his hip. His wrist knocks against the familiar shape of his gun hanging on his belt, but he doesn't even try to draw it out.

“Oh that can't be a good sign” he says with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

The silhouette looks up at him, and even though the sun is merely just a hint of light on the horizon line, Do Insung manages to make out the outline of a black mask he'd never thought he'll see again. He glances over his shoulder and locks his door before making his way to the desk. Wrapped in his cape, the man follows him with his eyes, still and silent.

“I have men all over the city looking for you,” Insung says once he's sat at his desk. The chair creaks as he spins on it to face Alpha. He links his fingers over his abdomen.

“I hope they're also looking for the man who killed those thieves,” Alpha says.

It's the same voice. Of course, it is. He was there for the memorial service the mayor threw for Alpha when it became clear the latter wouldn't come back, and he even said a few words. As he was honouring Alpha's five years of loyal and honest service, he never really believed Port Ville's superhero was dead though. Retired and finally realizing leaving Port Ville would be healthier maybe, but not dead. Obviously, he was right. Not about the leaving part though, but that is Alpha's problem, not his.

“I have witnesses telling you were after one man only. Did he kill them all on his own?”

Alpha nods slowly, and Insung sighs. It's going to be a very long day.

“You should be careful,” Alpha tells him, his voice tense. “Your men shouldn't engage if they see him. I've seen him fight, and he's stronger, faster than any of you could be.”

“Amazing, we have a super villain in town” Insung deadpans. As though they didn't have enough on their plate with that new drug ravaging the Bottoms.

He looks back at Alpha, who remains quiet and motionless, but Insung has been there too many times before to take that for the end of their talk. They rarely worked in team, even back when Alpha had no partners on his own, but when they did, Insung was always sure to find the superhero in his office, with obviously much more data than what he was willing to give away for the PVPD. The past five years blur in Insung's mind. It's like they didn't even happen.

“What do you know about him?” he questions.

“We - I think he's after Thorne.”

Insung doesn't answer at first. He looks into the little he can see of Alpha's face - black eyes, thin lips and an angular jawline - and he sighs.

“Thorne is locked up.”

“And you're one hundred percent positive he can't harm anyone anymore?”

“Sure I am,” Insung snaps. “Look, we're all pretty busy here, so what don't you tell me why you're here?”

Alpha considers him for a couple of seconds, but Insung keeps a straight face. No matter what capacities the guy has, he's still a civilian, which means that Insung would never go on and on about police work with him. He literally doesn't have the time to deal with rumours right now, not when they have a dangerous killer on the run, and ninety-nine other problems that should have been taken care of two weeks ago. It’s too early anyway and he’s not in the mood.

Alpha doesn’t look away, he doesn’t even blink. Insung lets out a deep sigh. Night shifts or not, being a detective was much nicer.

“Okay,” he gives in. “What do you have on that mysterious killer guy?”

“My guess is, he's been hired by someone new and very intent on sitting amongst the biggest of Port Ville's mob, so he's attacking the weakest of the three kings. Which is obviously Thorne.” He raises his hand to nip Insung's protestation in the bud. “Don't believe me if you don’t want to, but you can't argue with me here. He's obviously after one guy only, and that is the person leading the Invisible Burglars.”

Insung makes a face.

“I hate that stupid name,” he mumbles.

He thinks he sees Alpha flashing a quick smile that he has the decency to quickly erase before he continues.

“We both have no idea who's behind those robberies, and between the two of you, I'm the only one who might have something.”

“Yeah, but that something is Thorne.”

“Commissioner, please,” Alpha sighs.

His gloved hand is still raised mid-air, and Insung is reminded of the power sleeping in those fingers. Port Ville's beloved son has never used his powers on him - or if he did he made sure Insung couldn't remember which is still a good point for him - and that is probably half of the reason why Insung trust, or at least, respect him. He sighs and gestures at Alpha to continue.

“I want you to help me watch over Thorne's stashes.” He doesn't react to Insung's mumbled they're not Thorne's anymore, and instead keeps going. “Where his men still operate, where he hides his money, all those places. I want to catch that guy, which means I have to be there when he'll attack Thorne again.”

Insung's eyes trail from Alpha's face to the window behind him. The sky is getting lighter with every minute passing by, and with the hints of orange and pink painting the horizon, Alpha's silhouette becomes clearer. He's wearing the same large cape he’s always worn, the same large hood pulled over his head and which seems to never slip off of him. It's the same mask staring at Insung, and even the same shadow stretching over his features. It's as though he's never disappeared, but he did. He did, for five long years, right after he helped them catch the Bomber.

“Listen, I have no idea what Thorne did to you, but it's over now. You can go back to whatever you were doing, kid. Leave that mess behind.”

He feels the air thicken with tension, but he holds Alpha’s eyes, determined.

“I have unfinished business,” the man says, his voice more of a whisper, and Insung feels the heaviness of his words deep inside of him. He sighs and straightens against the back of his chair.

“Let's say you're right, what you're asking still is impossible. I don't have enough men. We already have to deal with this drug issue in the Bottoms. I can't afford to lose men over a mere possibility.”

“What if they volunteer?” Alpha immediately counters, and Insung can't help but feel like he's been played and ended up saying exactly what Alpha wanted him to say. “What if they offer to take more shifts for that mission only?”

Insung snorts. All in all, it's a beautiful idea, but he can't see anyone who would do that. Be in stake out means night shifts, after all.

“You've been gone for too long. I think you forgot what happened to altruism in this city.”

Alpha takes a first step towards him, thus reducing the distance between them for the first time.

“But would you say yes?” Alpha insists. “If some were to accept, would you let them?”

Insung swallows nervously. There are still a couple of feet between him and Alpha, but he feels like the latter has him pinned down on his chair. He has to mentally shake himself to remember that he's the one in charge and that he could have Alpha arrested in the blink of an eye if he wanted to. Somehow, it doesn't bring back his confidence.

“Good luck with that,” he manages to croak. He makes out a faint smile on Alpha's lips, and he feels himself relax a bit. “But don't go around forcing my guys,” he says in a much more assured voice, his intonations stronger and lower than what they usually are. He clears his throat, a bit embarrassed at his need to take back control over the situation, and pretends to turn back to his desk, his heart beating loudly in his chest. (Damn, can the boy hear it?)

“You don't want us to be enemies,” he mumbles. “I want those officers to tell me loud and clear that it's what they want, okay?” He pauses as he rearranges his desk to hide his nervousness. “Are we clear?”

There are no answers. When Insung turns around, he is blinded by a particularly fierce ray of sunshine hitting his window right where there was a cloaked silhouette barely minutes ago. Frowning, Insung stands up and takes a first step towards said window, but he freezes. He already has the very unpleasant feeling that he's been played, and it's not even six am yet, so his ego begs him not to start dancing that very old dance Alpha has always lead. He lets out a long sigh that empties his lungs and checks his watch. The hands are taunting, evil, and Insung sighs again, for good measure.

It is going to be a very long day, he thinks, as he steps out of his office and starts screaming orders at whoever is unlucky enough to be there. It probably won't be the day he'll get to go fishing with Kyungsoo.

Port Ville slowly wakes up at Jongdae's feet, street lights turning off, windows suddenly lighting up. It's a sight he's seen countless of times before, when he used to wander through the city by night and forget how lively and beautiful it can look by day because of a messy sleep schedule, but he never got used to it. Right now though, he doesn't let the city take his breath away: his eyes are focused on a piece of paper he's holding between gloved fingers. Dahye's voice rings in his head - I know who would gladly accept - clashing with Do Insung's words - I think you forgot what happened to altruism in this city. The latter has been a cop for too many years, and the ones he spent with the title of Commissioner weighing on his shoulders have finally ruined his trust, but Dahye, Dahye is still young, still hopeful. And she had no hint of doubt in her eyes when she wrote down those names.

Dawn has always been such a pretty sight in Port Ville, probably Jongdae's favourite moment of the day. Today he won't get to admire it though, for he has work to do. He smiles as he shoves the paper in his pocket, his mind already reaching for the first name.

Pyo Jihoon.

Dahye's little schemes pay dividends. They find themselves, a few hours later, watching a wobbly-looking building as the night stretches out around them. Officially, Thorne's old stashes have been taken by other gangs, for other illegal activities such as free fights and things that aren't considered a priority for the PVPD. Dahye's black board has hints about each one of them still being linked to Thorne though, which makes them all possible targets for the hooded man.

“And he was just standing there, on my doormat.” Jihoon's voice trails off with a little sigh, one that makes it so obvious that he's grinning hard. His huge smile can be heard even through the radio crackling in Dahye's car. “Alpha just knocked on my door at five thirty in the morning and politely asked for my help.” Jihoon chuckles. “I mean, the guy's a superstar. He's a superhero. I thought he was like, always using windows as doors and never paying any visit to people like me.”

Jongdae glances at Dahye and she welcomes his gaze with a lopsided smile. When she showed up to work earlier, she went straight to Do's office to tell him how Alpha had made an offer to her, and she pretended to be surprised to find six other officers there, all of them with the same story to tell. Of course, Do Insung wasn't pleased, but he was also bound by his words which led him to put Dahye -the oldest officer out of all seven of them - in charge of this new team, and beg of her to keep silent about PVPD's new collaboration with newly returned superhero Alpha. Jongdae wasn't surprised to learn that Dahye's plan had worked to perfection.

“Doors as windows,” someone else snorts through the radio. This time, it's a female voice, soft but deep and consequently calmer and more clear-cut than Jihoon's overexcited one. “He's bound by laws too; he can't just break into someone's apartment like that.”

Dahye chuckles behind her wheel, dimples pressing into her skin. They've been in stake-out for the past three hours, but with her radio turned on, and the six other cops' voices filling the vehicle, Jongdae hasn't felt bored a single time. They've been bantering and keeping every possible second of silence at bay, their voices wandering between professional and private talks. It makes their lack of experience obvious, but neither Dahye nor Jongdae mind. If anything, it feels refreshing, and it even allowed Jongdae to grow more familiar with the six young cops Dahye chose, although the past thirty minutes Jihoon spent blabbering about Alpha weren't the most comfortable ones. Dahye definitely looks like she enjoys the irony though, her eyes turning into moon crescents and throwing silent if they knew Alpha himself was listening to them right now at Jongdae.

“Well, if he did he wouldn't be Alpha anyway,” another woman says. Jongdae recognizes the hint of huskiness lurking behind the intonations. This is Ahn Hyejin, the youngest. Dahye teamed her with Kang Seulgi, who happens to be the only other detective of the team, although she was promoted less than a month ago.

“But it was him, right? I mean, it was the same guy under the hood and not some wannabe dude,” Lee Jooheon asks, his voice low and crackling through the radio. His question brings a brief second of silence that has Dahye raising her eyebrows at Jongdae, her smiling face mimicking mystery and suspense. Jongdae clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, but he can't help his lips form curling up.

“Of course it was him!” Jihoon answers vehemently. “I'd bet my life on it.”

Jung Soojung deeply sighs in the background, the sudden rush of air emptying her lungs letting loose to a static storm in their radios.

“My God, he loves you so much,” Dahye cheekily says to Jongdae which earns her a playful hit on the shoulder from the latter.

“What about you, boss?” Kim Namjoon asks hurriedly, before Soojung and Jihoon, who share the same car on the other side of the City - Port Ville's business block - start fighting again. “How did Alpha ask you to join him in this nonsense?”

Dahye grabs her radio, her mischievous eyes and her wide grin making Jongdae frown.

“Don't say anything stupid” he warms her in a whisper although she hasn't pressed the button yet.

She winks at him, and he glares at her before reaching out to try and grab her talkie. She keeps him on his seat with a stretched out arm, her palm pressing on his chest as she brings the device to her lips.

“Me?” she says. Jongdae winces at how giggly her voice sounds. “I was sleeping, but when I opened my eyes, he was in the corner of my bedroom, and he was watching me. Probably waiting for me to wake up.”

She lets go of the radio just as Jongdae wades in with a muffle scream of protest. He immediately goes for her side, pressing his fingertips everywhere he knows her to be particularly sensitive. She erupts in laughter as she tries to dodge his attacks by squishing against her car door just as Hyejin's voice fills the vehicle with a disgusted groan.

“Don't tell me he's a creep,” she moans.

“He's not!” Jihoon snaps, then squeaks as Soojung most probably pinches him.

“Relax, kiddo,” Seulgi - who is actually younger than him - butts in. “She was probably kidding.”

“Of course you were,” Jondgae groans from where he's tangled with Dahye. She's hiccupping against him, her breathing raged from all the laughing, and her legs somehow where Jongdae's should be. His left one is under her, the right one dangling from her right arm. His fingers are deep under her shirt though, nails ready to aggressively tingle again, which definitely makes him the winner of their fight. Dahye gives in with a breathy chuckle and reaches for the talkie again. She groans when Jongdae tries to bite her hand as her fingers fly before his face.

“Okay, you win,” she whines. “Stop trying to bite me!” She hits him lightly on the cheek and Jongdae lets go with a pleased smile. She pushes his body away as she untangles herself from him.

“Boss?” Namjoon asks again, unsure.

“I'm here,” Dahye finally answers through the radio. Jongdae smiles at her as he straightens up on the seat and makes sure his hood is still up. Sitting in another cop's car isn't the most cautious behaviour, but it was Dahye's terms: if she couldn't wear her costume she still wanted to take part to whatever could happen.

“You all can call me Dahye though,” she continues. “And I was joking. It happened the same for me than it did for you, guys. He knocked on my door, told me he thought someone was after Thorne and that it could provoke a new gang war and asked me if I wanted to help him. And I said yes. The rest is history.”

Jihoon doesn't even tries to hide the nervous chuckle he lets out, and it makes Jongdae smile slightly. He was sixteen when he started the whole Alpha thing, and back then, it was half a desire to do good and half excitement. He didn't even think when he created his second identity, it just seemed like the right thing to do, at least according to the numerous comics and movies going at length about it. It didn't take him too long to realize that the hood and the mask had become a symbol amongst the people of Port Ville though, and then, it wasn't about him anymore. It was about this symbol being a good thing - and remaining a good thing for those who needed it.

“I'm kind of sad Heize wasn't the one who contacted me,” Hyejin says. “I loved her. She's the reason why purple is my favourite colour.”

Dahye's eyes open wide and she proudly beams at her radio. Jongdae catches her fingers curling towards the talkie, as though she was hitching to grab the device and reveal her biggest secret to her colleagues.

“Oh my god,” Jooheon intervenes. “Heize was so badass. And you know who else was? That Nightblade guy. Damn.”

“Nightblade was my favourite,” Namjoon says.

His words are followed by another of Soojung's famous snort, and a muffled boys. Dahye and Jongdae exchange a glance. Jongdae watches the flash of emotion go through her eyes, and it takes him everything he has to reach for her hand. Her fingers curl around his, and she smiles softly at him.

“Where do you think they are now?” Seulgi asks. “I mean, if Alpha's asking for our help, does it mean he doesn't have a team anymore?”

“I don't know,” Soojung answers. “Maybe Nightblade and Heize got married, who cares. Maybe they just decided to drop it and go to the Bahamas or whatever. Port Ville is a lost cause anyway.”

Her words harshly come out of the radio, and they bring with them a sharp silence. Jongdae feels it dripping from the device, thicker with every second passing by, heavier. Soojung implied it more than she actually said it, but she probably just worded what they were all thinking. Jongdae glances at Dahye, whose eyes are already on him, and whose fingers tighten around his.

“They think you're dead,” Jongdae whispers, and she nods with a light smile.

“If only they knew,” she says, using the same tone as him.

They're partially right, Jongdae muses. He doesn't have a team anymore, because he doesn't want one. Because he's not back. That symbol that made Port Ville stand up to the darkness years ago is gone, and Jongdae can’t endorse it again. He hasn't much hope left for himself, after all.

“I hope they'll come back,” Hyejin says, in a much lower voice than before. “They're the reason I became a cop.”

“Likewise,” Jihoon whispers.

Jongdae feels his throat constrict, and something heavy leaving his body through his pores. All in all, it hurts, like he's been torn inside out, but the pain is also freeing, healing. Dahye lets out a shaky breath next to him, and he glances at her, at her light smile and deep eyes. In the darkness pressing against her car windows, the hazel hint of her irises has dropped to a darker colour, and Jongdae is currently staring at it, marvelling at how bright it glistens.

“We inspired them,” she whispers. “Sehun inspired them.”

Jongdae refrains a snort. If they knew what happened to their inspiration. He blew away in a warehouse. Sehun was flesh and bones, he was all flaws and perfection, and then he was burning alive, blowing to pieces. Just like Jongdae, Sehun isn't much of the symbol he used to be. The thought draws a smile from Jongdae. He still can picture the playful smirk Sehun would flash him, just like he can hear his low voice chuckling as he'd shrug it out - hey at least we're doing this together..

Jongdae can't help his smile from widening a bit. Dahye's fingers leave his only to slide up his palm and go straight under his leather sleeve where they press against his skin. The softness of her touch breaks Jongdae out of his reverie, and he looks back at her, smiling a bit wider when he catches her own curled up lips.

“Something's happening,” Jooheon's voice suddenly cracks in the radio. Jongdae immediately tenses at his seriousness. “Two trucks just came out of the warehouse.”

“They look armoured,” Namjoon immediately adds.

Jongdae watches Dahye as she frowns and lets go of his arm.

“This is new,” she tells Jongdae while her hand curls on the talkie.

Jongdae stops her hand, adrenaline flooding his body. He feels his senses grow more sensitive as his heart speeds up in his chest. He was right all along.

“It's a bait,” he says. “It's too obvious. They're trying to lure the hooded guy.”

He hears Dahye's heart speeds up in her chest. He lets her go and turns around gets out of the car. He's already in the street when he catches her voice coming out in harsh intonations through the radio waves behind him.

“Do not engage,” she says, her detective voice on full display. “Namjoon, Jooheon, I repeat, do not engage, it's a trap. Follow them but stay covered. Where are the trucks heading?

Jongdae zooms out of the conversation as he runs into an alley. He winces at the foul smell engulfing him, but doesn't let it slow him down. His legs tense, and he hops on the closest dumpster, the plastic lid slightly bending under his weight, then he reaches up to the fire escape stairs. His senses are now on full alert, and he makes out dozens of conversations, dozens of different smells and sounds. His powers do come in handy, but they also require a lot of focus that Jongdae can easily lose. This time though, he keeps his eyes on the sky above him, and his thoughts on the adrenaline running through his muscles. He climbs the fire escape, jumping from one rail to the other.

Dahye's voice is still cracking in the back of his mind when he hauls himself on the roof. He shoves a finger in his ear to make sure his earpiece is still there, and he dashes off towards the edge of the roof.

“Talk to me, Dahye,” he says between two breaths.

Dahye's voice fills his ear just as he jumps on another roof.

“They're circling the block.”

“Waiting for the hood to show up,” Jongdae mumbles as he tenses his muscles again and jumps over another alley.

Namjoon and Jooheon were the nearest team, which is a good thing, but the warehouse they were watching happens to be dangerously close to a very lively neighbourhood. There's probably nothing in those trucks, nothing that the hooded guy could steal anyway, but Jongdae doesn't doubt that Thorne's men are heavily armed, and impatiently waiting for their target. They don't care about casualties, nor does the hooded guy, so Jongdae has to stop them before they reach the bars and the pedestrian streets. And he has to do it before it can be used against him again, like the hooded guy did when they last met.

“Jongdae, I sent Hyejin and Seulgi to the closest bars” Dahye's voice crackles in his ear. “Jihoon and Soojung are on their way too, but they were near the airport so it's gonna take a while.”

Jongdae doesn't bother answering, and he knows Dahye isn't waiting for an answer anyway. If everything happens like they both have carefully planned, this whole mess could stop tonight, and Jongdae could go on living his life as though nothing happened. Two trucks popping out of an old Thorne stash won't probably be enough for Do Insung, especially since it has become a sort of rallying point for illegal race participants the last couple of years, but it is for Jongdae. No matter how Thorne makes money now, it's still him, and once that hooded dude will be out of the picture, Jongdae will be able to focus on Thorne. Those two trucks were a mistake. He's making it easier for Jongdae. Everything could be over so soon.

Jongdae comes to a halt with a slide after jumping on an umpteenth building. His breath comes out in short and erratic pants, and his muscles burn under the leather, but all in all, he feels alive, he feels powerful. Cars are driving all around him, he catches angry honks, playful chats and hundreds of soles hitting the concrete.

“Dahye, I'm here,” he says as he steps closer to the edge of the building to check the streets under him.

It's one of the oldest blocks in Port Ville, and the buildings aren't as high as in the City, but it's still high enough for Jongdae to look for the two trucks. He crouches down on the low wall, a hand hovering the stone for balance as he scans the surroundings. The heat left by the cloudless sky is still lurking up there, crawling out of the concrete in invisible waves. Jongdae's nape itches under the hood.

“Apparently the trucks are still circling the block,” Dahye answers. “Do you see them?”

“Not yet,” Jongdae answers. His eyes travel to the corner of the street. It's too noisy for him to be able to make out the roaring engines he's after, but if Dahye's colleagues are right, then the trucks should pop out of there.

“Still no trace of -”

The end of Dahye's voice drowns in the back of Jongdae's mind as a hissing sound fills his ears. His heart jumps up in his throat as he looks up just in time to see the blade flying towards him. He dodges it, but his mind remains focused on it. When it hits the roof door behind him, he feels the vibrations in his whole body, and his muscles tense at how strong the impact was. Jongdae immediately turns around, squinting at the darkness around him until he catches a black silhouette standing on the roof across the street. His vision flashes red when the hooded man waves at him.

“Jongdae?” Dahye asks.

“He's here,” he groans. “I'm looking at him right now. He took the bait.”

“Be careful,” she says, her voice a bit lower than usually.

Jongdae leans over the void beneath him and gauges the width of the street and how much time it would take him to climb to the opposite roof. He could do it in less than thirty seconds, but considering how fast his enemy proved to be before, it wouldn't be of any use. Locking his jaws, Jongdae glances at him, and he silently fulminates upon seeing him sitting on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling in the void. The nonchalance he's wearing in thick layers infuriates Jongdae, but it also leaves a bitter taste on the back of his tongue. He shouldn't be so calm, he shouldn't act like everything was planned, like he was expecting Jongdae and the poor attempt of an ambush from Thorne. Jongdae gulps as he glances at the street one more time, his eyes unwillingly stopping on the numerous heads beneath.

“Dahye, there are so many people here,” he whispers.

She answers in waves of statics that Jongdae's mind can't make any sense of, because at the exact same time, a low chuckle reaches his ears. He freezes and looks back towards the hooded man. Jongdae should be able to make out his features, but his face remains in the shadow thrown by his large hood and the black mask he's wearing on the lower half of his face. Black strands of hair hide the other half, but as the light breeze of Port Ville's rooftops ruffle through them, Jongdae manages to catch the outline of a crescent shaped eye. The hooded man is smiling at him.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Jongdae mumbles, squinting at the figure across the street.

Dahye says something, but once again, Jongdae doesn't pay attention. He leans in, his fingers curling on the edge of the roof, and he gathers his senses, every hint of power he owns, to throw them at the man. He blocks the traffic noise, the chattering, the breeze, everything, until he feels himself reaching the hooded man. His heart slows down in his chest, and everything disappears until only the hood and that almost complete eye are the only things left. And then Jongdae hears it. Amplified and slow, regular, the hooded man's heartbeat thrums against his eardrums. His pants rub against the concrete as he dangles his legs in the void beneath him. There's a faint wet sound that Jongdae recognizes as the sliding of lips against teeth as they draw up a smile. He can't help but feel like his enemy is aware of the intense examination he's undergoing, but if anything, he looks amused by it. He tilts his head, and Jongdae's ears fill with the sound of the hood rubbing against the man's hair, and his eyes immediately zoom on the brief apparition of the outer corner of an eye. It's fleeting, but it burns Jongdae's retinas. It's sharp, curled up, mapped with laughing wrinkles, but it doesn't feel as cold and dangerous as it should. Without realizing, Jongdae leans closer and closer, his c ape flapping in the air.

“JONGDAE!”

Dahye's roaring voice startles him, and he almost topples off the edge. His heart jumps into his throat as he clenches his hands on the concrete, and he winces at the feeling of burn in his arms.

“What?”

“The trucks! They're here!”

Her voice is angry, cutting, and Jongdae only then realizes that she must have been talking to him for several seconds already. When he glances at the hooded figure, the latter is up on his feet, his gaze away from Jongdae, and Jongdae can't hear neither his heartbeat nor his breathing in the ruckus around him. It almost confuses him, the quantity of noises and colours, but when he looks down and catches the trucks engaging in the street beneath him, his focus forces back its way to his mind.

“Okay I'm gonna focus on - fuck!”

The hooded man has already jumped off the roof, with no string whatsoever, his arms opened like wings on each side of his body. Jongdae groans as he jumps on his feet and starts running on the low wall, his eyes still attached to the trucks. The man lands smoothly on the second one, with no apparent wounds - which Jongdae wasn't counting on anyway - and he crouches down as he shoves a hand in his pocket. He pulls out something that catches the green light of the Irish pub sign the truck is driving by, but Jongdae doesn't manage to make out what it is exactly. It's only when the man sticks it on the truck and hurriedly crawls away that he realises.

He feels the blow from where he is, the vibrations hitting his body in violent waves, and he almost loses his balance. The explosion whistles in his ears long after it's over, and the sudden rush of burning air which flies up brushes past him. It's not as bad as it feels, fortunately, and when Jongdae glances down, he sees that only the back of the truck has been blown away. The driver hasn't even stopped, and what's left of the trailer is now opened on several armed men who look pretty pissed. A police siren tears apart the rumbling panic taking over the street, and Jongdae winces upon catching Jooheon and Namjoon's car, thrown at full speed behind the trucks.

Jongdae bites his lips. He glances at the edge of the roof ahead of him then back at the trucks on his right.

“Jongdae!” Dahye groans in his ear.

“I know!”

He finally reaches the edge of the roof, but he doesn't slow down. Carried away by his momentum, he aims at the opposite roof and lets himself fall past the edge. His body hits the hard wall, and he uses the contact as a support to propel himself backwards. The alley beneath him is barely as wide as a car, which makes Jongdae's jumps from one facade to the other extremely easy, and fast enough so that when he finally lands on the ground, the trucks haven't driven past the alley yet. He doesn't waste any precious second sighing with relief - although relief definitely washes over him - and immediately dashes off towards the street. Guns start shooting, closer with every second passing by, and people start screaming. The police siren is ear-splitting, but it's also invasive and powerful enough to drown everything else out. Jongdae focuses on it as it crashes against surfaces, cars and bodies, and he draws an image of the scene in his mind. His timing needs to be perfect.

He jumps on the parked car outside of the alley, and the alarm goes off. It jolts him out of his focus, and the chaos around him swoops down on him, but it's too late to analyse his surroundings again. His body goes taut, and he leaps.

He sees the scene in slow motion, how his hands clenches on thin air as the first truck drives past him a few feet ahead, and how hard and dangerous and lethal the concrete is. Then it disappears, engulfed by the second truck's huge tyres, and the world comes back to its usual speed. Jongdae crashes against the driver's door, his hand closing on the wing mirror. He hears his cape brushing against the concrete, and he gulps, heart thumping against his temples.

“What the fuck?!” the driver exclaims.

Jongdae dodges the first bullet the driver's partner shoots at him, but the window shattering almost makes him lose his balance. His left foot slides off the metal step on the side of the truck, and he winces as the wing mirror becomes his only support for a fleeting second. The metal cracks and bends under his fingers, but Jongdae holds tighter and finally manages to stand on the step again. He lets go of the mirror and grabs the edge of the window. The few shards of glass still there tear his skin apart, and the wounds heal almost right away, only to reopen when Jongdae shoves his right arm inside the truck. His hand closes on the driver's shoulder, and a feeling of ecstasy runs through his body. It's a short-lived victory though, because he then blinks up to meet the cold iris of the driver's partner's gun.

Jongdae presses himself against the side of the truck, but the speed has him hitting the cold surface harder than what he planned. He groans as his arm cracks under the unusual angle but at least his fingers are still clenched on the driver's shirt. Jongdae closes his eyes, forcing himself to forget the howling wind and the guns shooting at the back of the truck only to focus on the physical contact between his hand and the driver. When he feels like his whole being is hovering that specific spot, he lashes out every inch of power thrumming through his body, the small, but efficient electrical storm shooting through the driver's mind. And then Jongdae lets go.

The speed has him falling off the step before throwing him against the trailer. He grabs the edge of it and pushes as hard as he can to slide himself in the few inches between the truck's cabin and the trailer. He lands on his knees, his breath coming out in short erratic puffs, and his eyes open wide. He gulps and glances at his broken arm. He can already feel the bones mend, cells slowly sewing themselves together, and he lets out a shaky sigh. In the cabin behind him, he can hear the two men struggle and groan as they throw punches.

“Dahye,” he says as he feels his arm with the tip of his fingers. “I got the driver. He's gonna take the first on the right and take us to this huge construction site. It should be empty.”

“Okay. The other truck will probably turn around so be careful.”

A muffled moan and a low thump in the cabin tell Jongdae the driver already did half of his job, which means one gun down. Considering the storm of gun fire raging on at the back of the truck, it's probably not much, but at least no one will try to stop the driver now. Jongdae closes his fist and bends his arm, on the lookout for the tiniest hint of pain, but his articulations run smoothly and he doesn't seem to be suffering from any loss of mobility. His heartbeat has also slowed down, and his senses are slowly coming back to a less hectic state. Which means he now can hear very distinctly every gasp, every bullet, every moan.

Jongdae jumps back on his feet just as the truck turns right. His feet slide on the dirty platform but he hops and grabs the edge of the trailer before he gets ejected of the vehicle. He hauls himself on the trailer then crouches down against the cold surface to take in the situation. The back of the trailer has been severely damaged by the blow, and the edges are jagged and sharp. The hooded man is nowhere in sight, but there are fighting sound inside the trailer. Jongdae grabs the first blade on his belt and hurries to the end of the trailer still crouched down, his other palm hovering the metallic surface just in case. A bullet tears apart the material inches from his finger, and Jongdae jumps back just in time. He watches it in slow motion as it shots through the air right where his chin was not even a second before.

“Alpha, Alpha! ALPHA!”

Jongdae looks up, surprised, and sees Namjoon and Jooheon's car still tailing the truck. He notices with a peak of worry the numerous holes on the car body but the two officers don't look wounded. They're both frantically waving, even Jooheon who only has one hand on the wheel. Jongdae grabs the ripped edge of the trailer, frowning as Namjoon repeatedly points his index finger at the trailer, his eyes wide opened.

“You can talk to him, idiot!” Jooheon screams next to him, his voice at least two octaves higher than usual. “He can hear us!”

Namjoon gasps in realization. He brings his hands to his mouth.

“HE'S GONNA KILL HIM HURRY!”

Jongdae's head snaps toward the trailer beneath him, and another burning shot of adrenaline has his body going taut. He closes his fingers tighter on the edge, not minding the shards digging through his glove and lets himself falls forward. He swings straight into the trailer.

Another gun shoots just as he lands on a still body. He looks up just in time to see another man fall to the ground, at the feet of the hooded man who stands tall and unfazed by Jongdae's appearance. His right hand is closed on a steaming gun and his head slightly tilted as he takes in Jongdae. He raises his left hand and stretches his fingers. Jongdae hears his knuckles crack.

He slowly gets back on his feet, his eyes still carefully attached to the hooded man. The trailer's floor is paved with bodies, and the ferrous smell of blood is heavy on the back of his tongue. They were paid to kill him, and judging by the number of weapons he can see lying around, they didn't underestimate the threat, but it wasn't nearly enough. How many were they? Jongdae throws a quick glance around them. And the hooded man doesn't even look wounded.

“You knew it was a trap,” he says as he draws back his eyes on the leather-covered figure. “So why did you come?”

The man doesn't say anything - of course he doesn't. Instead, he just keeps staring at Jongdae, his breath slow and regular, his heartbeat controlled. Jongdae tries again and again to see through the hood, to guess the features under the mask and to solve the puzzle, but his eyes only catch darkness and black, leather and complete stillness. Frustrated, he takes a small step toward the man without even realizing, and it breaks the connection. The hooded man raises his arm again, and presses the trigger without an ounce of hesitation.

Jongdae spins to dodge the bullet, but he's a heartbeat too late and it rips through the fabric on his thigh. The sting is burning, seizing, but not nearly as much as the rush of fear when he realizes it has also touched the front right tire of Jooheon's car. Jongdae loses his balance with a gasp, the burn on his thigh growing as he falls on all four, and his heart thumping against his ribcage. He watches, powerless, as Jooheon loses the control of his car and drives off the road. The car crashes against a street lamp with a roar of sheet of metal bending. Jongdae leans closer to the edge of the trailer. The truck is already driving away, and the engine is too loud, Port Ville is too loud, and Jondgae can't hear anything, no heartbeat, no voice, nothing, and-

He gasps as a strong hand closes on his neck and he immediately throws his elbow backwards. It crashes against a sharp hipbone, and the hooded man moans, pushed back by the violence of the collision. Jongdae jumps back on his feet and throws his blade before dashing off towards the man who, as expected, dodges his weapon. He doesn't manage to avoid Jongdae though, and the latter crashes against him. He grabs his shoulders and knees him in the crotch before punching him, his knuckles crashing against the man's temple. The latter falls to the side, but he manages to kick Jongdae on the side of his knee as he does so. Jongdae's ears thrum with the sound of his bone breaking, and he moans as he falls down on his knees.

“Hey!” Dahye screams in his ear, and Jongdae knows she's heard him. He also knows she's not using his name any more in case the man can hear her. “Are you okay?”

Jongdae winces as he cups his knee. He pretends it has already healed as he gets back on his feet with much difficulty, his body reeling. He groans but lets go to take another blade on his belt. He's too late though, and this time, it's the hooded man who crashes against him. He pushes Jongdae against the side of the trailer with so much strength that Jongdae is sure he felt the metal bend around his body. He lets out a husky moan when his opponent swoops down on him and closes his hand around his neck.

“Fuck,” Dahye's voice cracks in his ear. “I'm on my way.”

The hooded man towers over Jongdae, his fingers digging into the soft skin of Jongdae's neck, but although his hold is definitely stronger than the one of a human, it is definitely not strong enough to choke Jongdae. It successfully stops him from avoiding the man's elbow before it crashes on his jaw, but Jongdae didn't even try to dodge it. His whole being is focused on the warmth radiating from the man's hand, and soon enough, he feels himself slip out of his own body. The energy prickles on the inside of his veins as it shoots towards the hand. He can feel this other mind, so close to his, but foreign and still distant, and he pushes harder on his power.

The man suddenly lets go. Jongdae catches a hint of fear just before his conscience is sucked back into his head.

“Stay the fuck out of this,” the man threatens. He speaks in a low husky voice that he's obviously disguising himself.

Jongdae glares at him and steps on the man's foot. He gathers all his strength in his sole and presses it on the man's toes as hard as he can. Once again, he hears bones breaking, and once again the man hits him. Blood and pain fill his mouth as his face crashes against the wall, and before he knows it, his enemy shoves his fingers in his ear and tears the earpiece off. Jongdae grabs his wrist, intent on keeping the contact long enough this time, and throws his other fist at the man's face. His power roars as it rushes down his arm, straight to the man's wrist, and the latter lets out a desperate yelp. He shoves Jongdae away and uses the surprise to break free. Jongdae readies himself to jump back onto his prey, but the hooded man is faster. His shoulder crashes against Jongdae's chest with so much force that it knocks the air out of his lungs, and the man's momentum is more than enough to have Jongdae fall off the trailer.

The fall is short, not nearly long enough for Jongdae to gasp in fear at the idea of his body hitting the concrete, but just as long for him to be surprised at the hollow sound his body makes when it lands on a car hood. He whirls around to grab the edge of the hood, and finds himself face to face with a dumbfounded Jihoon holding tightly to his wheel and a just as stunned-looking Soojung.

“Oh my god!” Jihoon exclaims in a high-pitched voice. “I did it, I saved Alpha, oh my god!”

In other circumstances, Jongdae would have definitely laughed at the look on their faces, but the speed roaring in his ears and the very serious threat of the hooded man both make the chuckling much harder to let out. He can't believe the man threw him away as easily as he was nothing more than a puppet, but it at least gave him a few precious seconds to allow his body to recover from their violent encounter. Jongdae still can taste the blood in his mouth though, but instead of pain and fear choking him, it's a burning rush of anger that seizes his heart. Determined, he slides up the car hood and hauls himself up on the roof. One glance tells him the hooded man is now climbing on the trailer's roof.

Jongdae grabs the edge of the roof of the car for support and he slides closer to the edge to take a peek at Jihoon through his window. The latter jumps in his seat when Jongdae knocks on the window, and the car dangerously sways, threatening to throw Jongdae off. It at least brings Soojung to her senses, and she curses loudly.

“I swear if you get us killed -” she begins.

“Wait!” Jihoon shrieks. He looks completely overrun, but despite his lack of control, Jongdae doesn't spot any trace of fear in his eyes. “Alpha wants to talk to me!”

Jihoon presses on the button with shaky fingers, and the window rolls down. Soojung tilts her head to take a better look at it.

“Overtake that truck!” Jongdae screams at them so that they can hear him over the wind now engulfing in the car. At least, he doesn't have to worry about Jihoon possibly recognizing his voice when he himself can't even hear Soojung's heart beating.

Jihoon steps on the accelerator, his eyes now back on the road and focus smoothing out his exhilarated features. Jongdae's body slides on the roof, and he immediately straightens. He keeps his left fingers curled around the roof edge, but uses his right hand for balance as he goes from lying flat on the car's roof to crouching down. He draws his attention back on the figure now cautiously walking on the trailer's roof. Despite the speed of the truck and the vehicle bouncing on holes and bumps, his balance is perfectly controlled. Both his arms are open wide on his side, gloved fingers curling up in the air. Jongdae locks his jaw as he draws out one more blade from his belt. His fingers curl tightly around it and his eyes go over the hooded figure, looking for the perfect spot to hit.

Jihoon's car is howling in the night, and he finally swerves it as the tires eat a few precious inches with every second. Thanks to Jongdae's earliest suggestion, the driver has taken them to a much emptier street, and Jihoon seems to be aware of it. He doesn't even hesitate as he drives past the white line on the road to overtake the truck. He keeps a straight trajectory, his hands now more assured on the wheel than before, and Jongdae mentally thanks him. His eyes stop on the top of the trailer, and he prepares himself to jump, his vision still flashing red with anger and frustration. He throws a fleeting glance at the road ahead for any pothole, but his eyes meet something else, and he freezes.

The other truck is blocking the end of the street, the trailer parked across the access to the construction site Jongdae implanted in the driver's mind. They must have made a detour to ambush them after they saw the other truck leaving the convoy. The most worrying isn't the idea of facing more armed men though, no, it's the huge lateral door on the side of the trailer opened on a man kneeling down with what looks like a bazooka on his shoulder.

Jongdae gasps. He frantically hits the roof of the car, hoping it will be enough to draw Soojung and Jihoon's attention on what's ahead of them. Jihoon hits the brake so abruptly that Jongdae is propelled forward. His arm shoots up in a last desperate reflex, and his blade catches in the hood of the car. It tears the metal with a grating howl, and finally gets stuck, slipping out of Jongdae's fingers.

He gets a strong sense of deja vu as his body flies up and up, and it leaves a false feeling of comfort in the back of his mind. Maybe if he keeps going up, he'll never have to fall down. But then gravity grabs him, sinks claws in his flesh and pulls him down before throwing him against the concrete. It burns through the leather of his suits, it burns through his skin and it breaks his body, gnaws it. Up and down merge together as Jongdae spins endlessly on the road. His healing power may be taking the worst of it, knitting together his ribs before they dig into his lungs, new waves of the pain erupt all over his body just after it's been healed. It's a never-ending spin of torture, and it feels like years when he finally slows down. His back hits the ground with a thump for the last time, and Jongdae is left chocking on the feeling of death lurking around him. The whole world has been drawn out, buried in a thick layer of blood that Jongdae can feel running from his nose and ears. He winces as he tries to breath in. Something is whistling, and fear explodes in his heart at the idea that it comes from his throat. Panic seizes his heart, and he moans at the idea that his own throat is producing that sound. Maybe he can't heal from anything, and maybe there's a hole hovering over his Adam's apple that will force him to spend his whole life gasping for air, choking to death and coming back to life.

Jongdae's body goes into spasm as he lifts his hands to clench his fingers at his throat. The world is passing by slowly, or too quickly, and his senses seem to have abandoned him. He can't hear a thing, can't smell a thing. All is left is the taste of blood in his mouth and the whistling which gets stronger and stronger. Jongdae gasps, convinced that death has finally found him, when it reaches a level so high it feels like a thousand needles stabbing his eardrums, but then something flies over him, throwing a fleeting shadow on his face. Reality swoops down on him as his mind identifies the shape, and he gets everything back just in time to see the rocket hit the concrete in front of Jihoon's car. Jihoon loses control of it and the blow has the vehicle leaving the road with an ear-splitting screech of tires.

Jongdae gasps as he painfully gets on all four. He lets out a shaky yelp when his leg gives way under his weight, and he feels bile burning the back of his throat upon seeing a fragment of his shin-bone peeking out through his pants. He looks up towards the bazooka man just as the latter collapses, a very distinct red hole between his eyes. Jongdae draws back his attention on the truck on whose roof the hooded man is still perched and isn't surprised at all to see the latter holding a gun. He jumps from the trailer to the roof of the cabin while the men in the other truck hurriedly aims at him. One of them throws himself on the ground to take the bazooka. Jongdae looks back at the hooded man, and even though he can't hear his heartbeat through the thrumming in his eardrums, Jongdae would bet his life that it's as slow as it always is, as controlled and regular.

The hooded man aims between his feet, just above the driver, and presses the trigger. He whirls around, dashes towards the end of the truck and jumps off the trailer, his body flying through air with grace and something that could be delicacy if Jongdae hadn't witnessed him kill a dozen of people. At the exact same time, the guy with the bazooka shoots, and Jongdae catches his horrified eyes when he realizes that the truck thrown at full speed towards them and that he just aimed will never stop. The whistling sound fills Jongdae's ears again, and he presses himself flat on the ground to protect himself from the upcoming blow.

Heat engulfs him as the ground shake under him, and Jongdae clenches his hands on the back of his head, fingers catching in the fabric of his hood. He hears the flames roaring, the bodies burning and the bits and pieces falling all around him. And then he hears soles stopping just next to him. Jongdae's breathing slows down and seconds turn to ages as he braces himself. He focuses, his eyes wide open on the concrete he's still lying on, and the slight sound of leather rubbing against fabric sends a powerful shot of adrenaline through his veins. He rolls around, his hand flying to his belt, and draws out one of his blades to throw it at the hooded man towering over him. It clinks against the latter's own blade when he uses it to parry Jongdae's weapon.

He clicks his tongue when Jongdae makes to take another one, and the latter freezes. He catches the hooded man's look towards his wounded leg, and expects the latter to finish him neatly, like he's seen him do several times already. To his great surprise though, the man keeps staring and time stretches out. Jongdae thinks about Jihoon and Soojung who both could be dead only a few feet away, and he thinks about Dahye probably still screaming in the earpiece. He hopes Jooheon and Namjoon have both gotten the help they could have needed, and that they will all be okay. But as his eyes are drawn to the black mask staring down at him, his mind slowly goes blank, and he finally stops hoping and thinking. There's something oddly comforting in the slow heartbeat filling the man's chest. It's so regular, so controlled, as though nothing had happened, and Jongdae remembers that the only time it actually sped up was when he touched the man and released his power.

As though reading his mind, the hooded man carefully steps back. Whatever he was planning to do next is interrupted by another screech of tires though, and he whirls around, his body between Jongdae and the new car who just stopped before them. Jongdae hears the faint sound of the glove rubbing against the trigger and he rolls on his side to see who just got out of the car.

Dahye's eyes open wide when she takes in Jongdae lying on the ground and the hooded man threatening her with his gun. Her hand flies to her belt, and Jongdae tenses.

“No!” he screams, terrified. The sound of the glove rubbing against the trigger fills his mind, and he feels himself crumble away. “No, please don't! Don't!”

Dahye slowly lifts both her hands up in the air, her black eyes glued to the hooded man's. She doesn't look half as afraid as she should be, but actually defying. Jongdae internally curses as he makes a mental note to kick her ass if they both survive this mess, and he desperately tries to crawl towards the man.

He doesn't shoot. He doesn't even keep Dahye in focus. He lowers his arm, and stares at her for a little more. Then he kneels down, puts his gun on the ground, and whirls around. He doesn't even deign to glance at Jongdae's fingers inches away from his ankle, and dashes off towards the nearest alley. Jongdae follows him, confused, until he disappears behind the corner. Soft thumps tell him that he's hurriedly climbing up the walls, thus reducing Jongdae's chances to stop him to nothing. Even if he were to put his bone back into his leg, it would take too long for his leg to heal. Whatever hopes he had for tonight, they're long gone, vanished into the darkness with the hooded figure.

“Oh my god Jongdae, are you okay?!” Dahye gasps as she rushes by his side.

Her fingers hover over the open fracture, but she doesn't dare to touch him. Jongdae grabs her hand and nods at the damaged car behind her.

“Jihoon and Soojung,” he tells her. He doesn't even have to end his sentence for her to turn around. She curses and jumps back on her feet to join them, her fingers already tapping on her phone.

Jongdae watches her back walk away. He lets himself fall back on the concrete with a sigh. The trucks are still burning, and Port Ville is still living around them. He should put that bone back in his leg so that he can be gone before the sirens get too close eventually, but his body feels heavy and stiff. It was such a heavy defeat. He got nothing - neither the black hood nor Thorne's men - and he may have had several officers killed.

Not symbol material at all.

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