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Chapter Text

His rice cooker beeps and beeps and beeps – so Namjoon idly reaches over, and unplugs it hastily.  

He grabs the remote, and turns up the news as he searches for a bowl.

“-seventh murder this year, Investigator Nam Jongdae, the son of Police Chief Nam Goohyun-“

Namjoon pauses, spoon halfway over the steaming pot, and sighs, setting down the bowl to run a hand over the back of his neck.

“Ma’am!”  A Reporter calls onscreen, “What’s being done to investigate the murders?”

“Of course, it’s our top priority to keep ordinary citizens from experiencing violent crimes-“

“But what about serial killings?! What about the recent murders of policemen? What kind of backup plan do you have?”

Namjoon doesn’t have to look to know who’s talking.

“You’re right.”

It’s Seokjin, done up in his uniform. An old friend from the academy, but Namjoon hasn’t seen him since the funeral.

“Inspector Kim-“

“It’s been made clear that we, the police, are too naïve and predictable to cope with crimes of antisocial psychopathic killers. Two thousand policemen and women didn’t choose their jobs to serve 50 million citizens, but to obtain their own job security.”

“Inspector Kim!-“

“They’re not different from the rest of the fifty million citizens.”

Namjoon takes a seat at his kitchen table. The bowl fogs up his glasses, so he pushes them up off his head. There’s shouting onscreen, so Namjoon mutes it.

His phone buzzes on his table. He reads the name and snorts, leaning back to rub at his eyes.

Goohyun is an older, balding man. His eyes are the type that have seen death, which isn’t uncommon around here. Of everyone in the academy, he’s earned Namjoon’s respect the most.

Goohyun pours him a glass of Soju, and Namjoon takes it with a nod.

“A special investigations unit?”

“You heard, right?” Goohyun smiles, and he’s still missing that left tooth.

Namjoon gives a half laugh, and tips back the alcohol. “Seokjin really spares no words, does he?”

“Too naïve and predictable, he said,” Goohyun smiles sadly. “He wasn’t wrong.”

Namjoon sets down the empty glass, and stares at the remanence of liquor in Goohyun’s hands. He looks up to meet his eyes, and asks, seriously, “What do you want from me?”

“To lead,” Goohyun smiles. “You think I don’t know your name? They call you a monster.”

Namjoon snorts, and settles back in the wicker chair.

“I’ve been suspended six times this year.”

“And you have the highest arrest rate in the academy,” Goohyun sets down his glass. “I’m assigning Seokjin to you.”

Namjoon blinks, before he grins, evil, “Oh, this’ll be fun.”

“He will get you what you need,” Goohyun pours another glass. “He only answers to me and you, now.”

Namjoon swallows, tongue tracing the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t respond, out of respect. Considering Seokjin’s old boss is now dead.

 “And what do I get from this?” Namjoon can’t help but ask.

Goohyun smiles, “The satisfaction of capturing Korea’s bottom filth.” He leans forwards, halfway across the table, “And the honor of taking down the fucker who killed my son.”

He slaps a manila folder down against the counter. It’s too early for the pop up restaurant to be busy, and the Han river is too loud for any passerby to hear.

Namjoon nods to the folder, arms crossing.

“This is what I need.” 

“Well,” Seokjin takes a seat, “Hello to you too.” He’s dressed casually, just as Namjoon asked.

“Five.” Namjoon holds up a hand. “Five men. A registered gun, and a box of ankle monitors.”

“Wait, just five?” Seokjin blinks. “Commissioner Nam-Goohyun said you were-“

“I only need five,” Namjoon opens the folder. “Are you hungry?”

“No.” Seokjin shifts, “Yes, but show me who you want, first.”

It’s full of files. Namjoon selects one off the top of the pile, and slides it Seokjin’s way.

“Min Yoongi, age twenty-eight, street name: SUGA.” Namjoon points, at the photo, “Ex-mafia. He used to be the right-hand man to Lee-Dookwang, and controlled the entire Incheon district.”

“How do you know all this?” Seokjin flips through a few of the pages, slack jawed. Namjoon shoots him a look, and Seokjin mumbles, “Nevermind.”

“He’s an all-around skilled combatant, and knows the South Korean districts better than anyone. He’s also a trained technician. He built an M8 grenade out of chicken wire, six spoons and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. All while in jail.”

“Good god.”

“Kim Taehyung,” Namjoon slides the next file over. “A contract killer from Daegu. He mysteriously turned himself into the police two years ago, and hasn’t caused much of a fuss since then.”

“And?”

“Have you ever met a hitman?” Namjoon allows himself a half-smile, “Bind their hands, feet, legs, and they’ll still kill you with their teeth.”

The next file is opened. It’s rather empty.

“Park Jimin. He was arrested two weeks ago for leaking six hundred top secret government files.”

“A federal offense,” Seokjin blinks. “How old is he?”

“Twenty-five. He’s only in holding, because they still can’t find solid evidence on him yet.” Namjoon reaches for his drink, and lets Seokjin look through what small information they have. “There’s not much in his background check. I have a distinct feeling he hacked in and deleted whatever dirt we might’ve had. When we finally got a warrant to search his home, we found a home-made computer worth thirty-thousand dollars. ”

“Did he steal the money?”

“He sure as hell didn’t get it working at Panera Bread.” Namjoon sets down his glass. “He’ll be useful.”

“Okay…” Seokjin reaches for the next file. “Fingers crossed this one isn’t a criminal.”

“Jung Hoseok, street name, J-HOPE. Arrested for arson, extreme misdemeanor, trespassing, assault and battery, attempted murder, and murder.”

“God dammit.”

“He’s strong.” Namjoon sips. “Hoseok doesn’t use knives, or baseball bats, or guns. His murder charge was for punching a man so hard, his nose lodged into his frontal lobe, and killed him on contact.”

“This is ridiculous,” Seokjin sets down the file, turning seriously. “You don’t expect to control all these men, do you?”

“Some speculated he worked together with Suga, but there’s very little evidence. He might’ve been an under-the-table guy.”

“Namjoon-“

“Keep going,” Namjoon gestures, lazily. “There’s one more.”

Seokjin cautiously pulls out the last file. It’s of a young man, with dark hair, and cold eyes. He reads aloud, “Jeon Jungkook…”

“He scored a 38 out of 40 on the psychopath exam. He was imprisoned for excessive self-defense, when he found his parents murdered, and faced with the criminals in his home.”

Seokjin frowns, “But that’s self-defense. They murdered his parents.”

“You didn’t see the bodies,” Namjoon slides the files back into the folder.

“But-“

“They were chopped into over three hundred individual pieces,” Namjoon interrupts, and stops Seokjin short. “Three-hundred and seventy-five to be exact.”

“This is mad…”Seokjin whispers. “You’re crazy, we can’t- this- I refuse.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t answer to you, huh?” Namjoon grins, and slaps the file against Seokjin’s chest. “I’ll send you further instructions once you track them all down.”

Seokjin is left huffing and puffing, scrambling to catch the papers that slip out of his hands.

The busses rattle in one by one, each arriving more or less on time.

Each is accompanied by two policemen. The bus door opens, the selections are pushed off, and the bus drives away, cops included.

They’re all in handcuffs, standing around in the tall grass. It's sunny, and a breeze blows by. They're in the middle of nowhere.

“Who are you?” Taehyung stares, pointedly at Yoongi.

“Who are you?”

“I asked you first.”

“Yoongi,” Hoseok smirks. “I didn’t know they caught you.”

“A year ago,” Yoongi blinks. He looks around, and there’s nothing but trees, and some broken down shack off in the distance. “I see they left you to die too.”

“Are we going to die?” Jimin pulls on his handcuffs, rattling them. “Fuck, fuck, where are we?”

“Calm down,” Seokjin stands, approaching from the shack- and it’s not a shack, but an old, old chapel. There’s policemen following him, and he gestures. The policemen approach with keys, unlocking each of their handcuffs.

“Now who are you?” Taehyung stares.

“The Yeongdo bus is late,” Seokjin frowns, as each of the criminals are released. “I guess we’ll have to start without him.”

“What’s going on?” Hoseok rubs at his wrists – and he looks like an animal. Seokjin doesn’t let himself be intimidated.

“We’ll tell you inside,” Seokjin gestures. He starts to walk, and realizes that nobody is following him. He turns around, and raises an eyebrow. “I can call those busses back just as quickly as they came.”

A policewoman raises a semi-autimatic, and suddenly theres footsteps in the grass. Seokjin smiles, and climbs the rickety stairs into the church.

It hasn’t been used in years. A tropical storm destroyed it back in 2002, and it hasn’t been touched since. Vines cover the sides – and many windows are missing, but some stained glass survived, filling some of the pews with color. It smells like old wood.

He gestures for them to take a seat, and they do, cautiously, nobody trusting the other, scrambling like lone wolves.

Namjoon smiles from the short stage. There’s a stand with a corkboard, photos of men and women alike, with notes scribbled on pinned pieces of paper. He steps forwards, and gestures for Seokjin to be at rest.

“Welcome,” Namjoon smiles. “We’re missing one, but we can fill him in later.”

“Are we here to die?” Jimin asks; he’s a short, soft looking boy, but he’s pretty, and already coming up with an escape plan. Namjoon sees it in all their eyes.

“Not unless you try to run,” Namjoon smiles. “But I’m actually here to give you a choice.”

Four sets of eyes fall on him. Seokjin is back outside, waiting for the last bus.

Namjoon points to the corkboard, “A quarter million people live in the Gyeyang district. I’m sure some of you are familiar.” Yoongi shifts in the pew, eyes cold and glassy. “There have been eleven unsolved murders within the last three months. No motive, no lead. Investigator Kim Jongdae thought to have tracked down the killer last month, and was found dead behind a convenience store.”

 “What are you saying?” Taehyung asks, suspiciously.

Namjoon points to the board, “As put by your lovely babysitter –“ Namjoon gestures, “- the taskforce is emotionally incapable of handling serial cases and motiveless murders. However,” he points to a photo of one of the victims, a stab wound in her side, slumped against a building. “I have the distinct feeling this one wasn’t motiveless.”

“Get to the point or kill me already.” Yoongi barks.

“We’ve been given the label Special Investigations Team. We need people to solve what the police cant – and do what the police can’t.”

Jimin grins, “You want to work over the law.”

“And why should we?” Hoseok stands. “What’s in it for us?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung stands too. “You just gonna’ kill us once it’s all over?”

“Maybe,” Namjoon shrugs, taking a step forwards.

“So we’ll do your bidding, because we’re criminals,” Hoseok spits, and steps closer – and so does Namjoon, and soon they’re toe to toe. “Because we’re beasts.”

“Dogs,” Namjoon corrects. “So when I say sit, you sit. When I say fetch, you fetch.”  

Hoseok swings his fist. Namjoon dodges, and jabs him right in the sternum. Hoseok is winded- and Taehyung sees the opportunity to run, so he does.

A cop raises a baton, but Taehyung has her downed easy- Jimin and Yoongi stand to run, Hoseok throws another fast punch, and catches Namjoon in the jaw. Namjoon doesn’t budge, (but it hurt like a bitch, wow) and he takes the pleasure of watching Hosoek panic. 

In under three seconds, Namjoon blocks a third punch, kicks Hoseok in the stomach, knocks him to the ground with his elbow, and steps on his chest to keep him there. He raises a gun, and shoots Taehyung square in the shoulder.

“FUCK!” Taehyung screeches, fingers scrabbling for the wound, tripping. Yoongi and Jimin freeze. Hoseok chokes under his boot.

“I don’t like disloyalty,” Namjoon says casually. “I don’t anticipate your respect right away – or at all – but I anticipate your corporation, seeing as I’m willing to take two years off your sentence, for every culprit you put behind bars.”

“Fuck, fuck,” Taehyung goes down on one knee, blood dripping over his fingers, and down his arms, “You shot me, you fucking freak, you fucker, you fuckin-“

“Oh calm down, I only grazed you,” Namjoon pockets his gun. “If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

“Two years…” Jimin blinks, still in awe.

“Sounds nice, huh?” Namjoon grins. “I heard about your court ruling. An entire life sentence.”

Hoseok grips his nails into his calf, and it burns, so Namjoon steps off him, and kicks him square in the nose. Hoseok screeches, hands coming up to his face.

“So?”

“So?” Taehyung rips off the bottom of his prison shirt, and uses it to wrap around his arm. “I think you’re insane.”

“I have fifty years on my head,” Yoongi says, sitting back down, and crossing one leg over the other. “Don’t act like any of you have something to lose.”

Hoseok sits up off the floor, cradling his nose. He wipes blood off his chin, looks up at Namjoon, and grins, “I would kill you, if I wasn’t impressed.”

Seokjin suddenly throws open the door to the church, and light floods in. He takes a second to stare at the scene in front of him, before he blinks back to himself, and pulls the phone away from his ear in a panic.

“Namjoon-ah. The Yeongdo bus has been highjacked – the two officers were found cuffed to a gas station restroom. Jeon Jungkook is gone.”

Namjoon curses under his breath, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Seokjin, get them a change of clothes.” Namjoon grits his teeth, and turns to the criminals.  “You have your first mission. Find Jungkook, and I’ll take four years off of each of your sentences.”

They look to each other with surprise– but Namjoon grips Hoseok by the collar and barks in his face.

 “But if one of you run off, I’ll kill you all myself.”

“-and, and then he hit me over the head with the toilet lid,” The cop stutters, flinching every so often. He grabs at his shoulder in pain.

“So he asked to use the restroom…and you let him.” Namjoon raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. They stand around the small gas station bathroom, taking in the crime scene.

The other cop barks, “Well what? Were we supposed to let him piss his pants?”

“You were supposed to watch him,” Seokjin barks.

“What else happened?” Taehyung asks, crossing his arms.

“He cuffed us to the stall, and, and took the bus!”

“Be lucky he didn’t kill you…” Taehyung mumbles, kicking open the stall door.

“I need plates run,” Namjoon gestures. “Find that bus.”

“If you get me literally any phone with internet, I can do that for you,” Jimin says, looking to Seokjin.

Seokjin huffs, and pulls on his arm. “Fine.” They walk out of the restroom, Seokjin handing over his phone.

Yoongi, who has been standing silently, suddenly approaches one of the cops, tipping his head like a predator.

“A porcelain toilet lid to the head. Wow, sir. Are you sure you don’t need to sit down?”

“N-No, I’m fine,” he presses a palm to the back of his head and flinches, “Ah-, ow-“

“You know, one time, I was smacked over the head with a vase.” Hoseok holds out his hands, “It was this big, weighed fifty pounds. I had surgery because it split open my skull, from here to here,” he points.

The cop grows nervous, and Namjoon narrows his eyes. He grabs a plunger nearby, and immediately shoves it over the cop’s mouth and nose. The cop sputters, hands reaching for the plunger, but Hoseok grabs one of his wrists and twists it, and the cop screams behind the dirty plunger, desperate for air.

The other cop goes to help, but one look from Taehyung, and he’s back against the wall.

“If you really got hit over the head with a toilet tank, I think you’d have more than a scratch,” Namjoon hisses. “Give me the truth, or I’ll turn a blind eye, and let the dogs have you.”

Yoongi snorts, and Hoseok lets out a laugh. The cop squeals, and Namjoon pulls the plunger away.

“Okay! Guhh- O-Okay! We- we stopped for cigarettes – he – he said he needed the restroom – we, we came to check on him, and he locked us in the stall –“

“Where was he headed?”

“I don’t know! I really don’t know!” He coughs. “He never said a word!”

“I need a personal profile and background check,” Taehyung says. “Mom, Dad, aunts, uncles, extended family. A girlfriend, boyfriend, I don’t care – a twenty-three year old is out of jail for the first time in two years, where do you think he’s going?”

“Home,” Namjoon concludes, with a nod. “I’ll get you that file.”

“Already on it,” Jimin appears, typing into a phone. “No Mom, no Dad. An ex-girlfriend, I think, only because he’s still in one of her photos two years back on Instagram.

“Get me that address,” Namjoon points. “We have a registered Psychopath on the streets of Daegu.”

“Do we meet back at the church?” Yoongi asks.

“On one condition.” Namjoon snaps towards Seokjin, who pulls out a black briefcase. He unclicks it; the case is full of ankle bracelets, beeping with trackers.

“Oh fuck no,” Hoseok steps back. “Only sex offenders wear those things.”

“No way in hell,” Taehyung agrees.

“I won’t – I won’t go around with people thinking I’m some rapist,” Jimin grimaces.

“Put it on, or go back to jail.” Namjoon stares.

“No.” Hoseok crosses his arms. “No way.”

“Oh grow up,” Yoongi steps forward, and takes one. “Four years off your sentence. You don’t hear those words too often.”

Jimin makes a rainbow of expressions, before he grabs the bracelet reluctantly, and kneels down to put it on. Taehyung and Hoseok mull it over, lips pulled up into a sour scowl, before they reach in together, and grab one.

“If you’re not at the church by ten tonight, I’m sending SWAT to exterminate you,” Seokjin lifts up the tracker.

“Fine,” Taehyung spits. “We’ll find your Psychopath.”

Like wolves, they scatter, each to their own lead. Taehyung is the only one who, surprisingly, bothers to stick with Namjoon, and travel to the girlfriend’s home.

“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for shooting me,” Taehyung says. "This is the best lead."

“Fair enough,” Namjoon shrugs.

Seokjin busies himself with outfitting the team with old flip-phones. He’s not stupid enough to give them anything that connects to the internet.

However, one cop did forget to note that his phone was stolen by Jungkook. Namjoon has the station trace it, and it leads right to the neighborhood of the girlfriend. Taehyung finds it stashed in a bush.

“If he left already, we’re fucked,” Namjoon whispers, and  pulls out his gun, prepared to knock on the front door.

“Shh!” Taehyung listens, and there’s talking.

“You ruined my life.”

“You tried to kill me!”

“How could you-“

There’s a scream.

Namjoon looks to Taehyung. He’s weaponless, but he knows he doesn’t need one. He nods, and Taehyung kicks down the door.

Namjoon goes in, gun pointed – and there’s Jungkook, changed out of the prison clothes, holding a knife to a young woman’s throat.

His eyes turn to them – and Namjoon freezes, feet solid to the floor, goosebumps rising on his arms. Jungkook’s eyes are dark. Emotionless, expressionless, round, red lips pulled into the softest frown, face blank and unfeeling. He’s strangely beautiful, and radiates danger. Like an animal.

The girl wiggles and screams, and Jungkook carefully presses the knife closer.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon calls. “Put the knife down.”

Jungkook’s eyes coolly roll back to the girl, then to Namjoon. He says nothing.

Namjoon cocks his pistol, “Don’t think I won’t shoot.”

“He will,” Taehyung pouts.

They’re in a small apartment, but it feels too big, Jungkook pressing a knife to her throat, harder at every second. Her breath comes in ragged inhales, nails digging into Jungkook’s wrist. He doesn’t even flinch. Namjoon's brain runs through a million possible scenarios at once. Shoot Jungkook, get the girl. Miss Jungkook, shoot the girl. Grab the knife, miss and die.

“If you let go of her, and come with me, I’ll forget all of this,” Namjoon says calmly.

Junkook speaks his first words. His voice is surprisingly soft.

“You’ll still kill me.”

“I won’t shoot you in the nose, that’s for sure.” Namjoon’s hands don’t waver. “I also won’t throw you back in jail with another assault charge. Put the knife down, kid.”

Taehyung makes a quick move. He goes for Jungkook’s wrist- and Jungkook rolls away. He goes to swipe at Taehyung, but Taehyung is skilled – he grabs his arm and twists it. They wrestle along the floor, and the girl runs out screaming.

Jungkook is a decent combatant, seeing as Taehyung is struggling to hold him. They knock over a table. Jungkook knees him in the stomach and rolls – and Namjoon shoots at his leg. He misses on purpose, but it shocks Jungkook still.

“Enough,” Namjoon lowers the gun. “Next time it’s your kneecap.”

Taehyung curses, rubbing at his stomach, “Fuckin’ triggerhappy…”

Jungkook drops the knife. His face is completely unreadable, staring at the door, where the girl ran.

Taehyung grips him by the arm, and hauls him to his feet. Namjoon pats for his phone, and goes to call Seokjin.

“We got him.”

They’re back in the church. It’s nighttime, so only moonlight feeds through the ceiling glass-stained windows, casting a few shadows. Seokjin goes around with a lighter, and a few candles illuminate the room.

They’re all sitting in different pews, none near the other. Jungkook is in the back, a shiny new tracking bracelet on his right ankle.

“Well, this isn’t how I wanted this to go…” Namjoon scrubs at his hair, tiredly. “We lost a whole day, thanks to Psycho over there.”

 A few heads turn. Jungkook doesn’t even flinch. It’s off-putting.

“I assume you’ve all made your choices by now,” Namjoon gestures. “If you want to go back to prison, we’ll have a friendly little prison van come pick your ass up by tomorrow. If not, you’re on the team.”

“I’ll need a place to work,” Jimin says.

Namjoon snorts, “You’re looking at it.” Jimin frowns.

“I want to visit my family,” Hoseok grunts.

Taehyung cuts under his breath, what inmate is stupid enough to have family. Hoseok makes a jerky movement towards Taehyung – and the latter dares him to try.

“Cut it out,” Namjoon snaps. “Hoseok, you can see whoever you want when you find the murderer of the Gyeyang case. Seokjin has individual case files with everything we know. This box,” he kicks at the cardboard, “has the profiles of each victim. There might be a connection between each murder that we’re not aware of.”

“When do we start?” Yoongi asks.

“Right now." Namjoon grins, “Go fetch,” and steps out the door. The chapel is left in a deafening silence, as Seokjin hands out the last folder to Jungkook. Wood creaks beneath his feet.

“Jesus,” Jimin rubs his eyes. “Who the hell is that guy?”

There’s a few chorused groans.

Seokjin smiles, leaning back up against the pew.

“A man with the highest IQ in South Korea.”

Chapter Text

They sleep on the pews, because Namjoon doesn’t have the budget for anything else. They’ve been sleeping on prison beds, they can handle a bench.  

Seokjin doesn’t trust to leave the team alone for the first few nights, but they come and go, nobody causing too much trouble, other than a scuffle here and there, so Seokjin starts to go home at night. Namjoon has nobody waiting for him. No family, no wife, no kids – so he sips liquor and thumbs through profiles, Jungkook doing the same not too far.

He’s left only a few times, and Namjoon hasn’t bothered to ask where. They’ll have to build trust somehow, and if that means letting them go, then so be it.

It’s quiet in the chapel. Jimin is asleep at his laptop, snoring every so often.

Namjoon sneaks a look, and Jungkook is still there, reading through pages. Namjoon has already reached a few conclusions. He wonders if Jungkook has done the same. His face is unreadable, yet stunning in the light. He’s the tallest of all of them, lanky, but built strong – not as broad as Seokjin, but he towers over them all with a strange loom and a dead look in his eyes.

Namjoon turns back to the file, and waits for his team to return.

“I visited the autopsy room,” Yoongi says, feet kicked up on the pew in front of him. “There was only one, precise stab wound on Yoo Miyoung, right under her armpit.”

“That’s the axillary vein,” Taehyung confirms. “It leads right to the heart. Once it’s cut, you have less than a minute to live.”

“Smartass.”

“Dickhead.”

“So they’re a trained murderer," Namjoon concludes.

“Not just,” Jungkook says, and all their eyes fall to him. “It’s about the blood.”

“Excuse me?”

“They only kill during the rain.” Jungkook holds up a file. “That’s when blood always smells the strongest.”

There's a pang of silence.

“…As creepy as that is, it checks out,” Jimin turns his laptop.

“Did you read all the case files?” Namjoon tucks his hands in his pockets. “Thirteen attacks, eleven murders.”

“Two survivors…” Hoseok mumbles.

“Exactly.” Namjoon pins two files to the corkboard, names, addresses, and fingerprints listed beneath.

“I was looking through the restricted evidence…” Jimin starts, and Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “Not that I told you that, but, from the looks of it, there used to be another serial killer that killed in the rain.”

“This can’t be him, right?” Yoongi asks.

“No. He died five years ago in an overseas prison.”

“Another thing…” Jungkook starts, voice soft, and they all look back to him once more. “Namjoon-ssi. Did you look at the injuries for each victim?”

Namjoon smiles, and crosses his arms, “I think I know where you’re going with this.”

“The first few were sloppy,” Jungkook mumbles. “Extra stab wounds, lacerations, a few rings around the victim’s necks. The nails of the victims were broken.”

“The sign of a struggle,” Taehyung assumes.

Jungkook nods. “They get cleaner as you sort through the case file.”

“They're learning…” Hoseok looks up. “Wait. The two victims that survived. When were they attacked?”

“…A month ago.”

“They weren't as polished."

“So we can assume the culprit has been learning through experience,” Namjoon frowns, disgusted. “I want to talk to the victims. Jimin, send the team the locations.”

“Kay,” Jimin types, and a few flip phones buzz throughout the room.

“Break yourselves up as you please.”

“Hoseok should stay here,” Taehyung teases. “He’ll punch himself in the face with his fat fist, and we’ll have to lug his ass home.”

“You-“ Hoseok jumps up, but Namjoon is suddenly there, a grip on his forearm.

“Enough. Hoseok, I need you to come with me.”

Hoseok eyes him, “What for?”

“Backup,” Namjoon lets go. “And bait. Come on.”

“Bait?!”

Taehyung laughs, and Hoseok growls his way.

“Jimin, see if you can search all the CCTV recordings of the murders,” Namjoon says, as he pulls Hoseok. “See if we missed anything. Call Seokjin if you can’t get access.”

“Oh, I can get access,” Jimin grins, and slumps down in the pew. “The real question is if this shitty pop-up wifi is gonna’ hold.”

Taehyung sighs, and leans over the pew to pats Yoongi on the leg.

“Come on man. Let’s go visit the victims.”

“I’m not going,” Yoongi says, brushing off his jeans.

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, “Oh? And you’re just going to let us do all the work? You sit here all day, and get a free two years off your sentence?”

“No, dipshit,” Yoongi spits. “I have a friend who might know what’s going on. I recognized the name of one of the victims.”

“Oh,” Taehyung huffs. “Well, whatever. Come on Psycho.”

Jungkook stands wordlessly, and follows out the chapel door.

Hoseok loiters outside the convenience store, arms crossed, frowning. Namjoon slides the cashier his card, and watches out of the corner of his eye. The wind blows outside, rustling a few signs.

“Thanks for letting me in,” Namjoon smiles. “I know it’s past closing.”

The cashier smiles, wrinkles catching around his eyes, “It’s no problem. Have a nice day, young man.”

“You too,” Namjoon smiles. He exits the store, and cracks open the granola bar.

By the time he exits the store, Hoseok is banging a man’s face against the wall. He grips him by the hair, slams his forehead against the brick, and lets go, kicking him to the floor.

“What’s up?” Namjoon smirks, knowingly.

“He ran up to me with a baseball bat!”

“Maybe he wanted to play catch?” Namjoon snorts, and bites off the granola bar. He leans over the man whimpering on the floor. “Hey. What do you know about the Begane killer?”

“Nothing!”

“Okay,” Namjoon smiles. “Ever heard of the name Yoo Miyoung?”

The man avoids his eyes. Namjoon nods to Hoseok.

“Grab him.”

He’s a weak one. It only takes a hammer to the foot, before they find out he’s connected to a strain of the mafia – Namjoon mentally stores questions for Yoongi. The recent murder was of a second-in-command’s daughter. Whoever the culprit is, they now have the Incheon mafia on their tail. That’s great.

They’re about to leave the garage  – the guy still tied to the chair – when they walk outside, and realize it’s been raining. The streets are barren, the sun now behind the horizon, and sparce lampposts lighting the alley.

Hoseok’s eyes jump to him, and Namjoon freezes.

Namjoon bolts for his phone, tearing it out of his pocket, and it’s already ringing.

“Hyung!-“

“One of the surviving victims have been killed,” Seokjin says in a rush.

“Who!?”

“Cho Jiae. The nurse.”

“Fuck!” Namjoon kicks at a bottle, and sends it cracking against a wall. “Are you fucking kidding me? Taehyung and Jungkook were just there!”

“Yeah, about that. Taehyung has been stabbed, and Jungkook is in pursuit, but we lost contact with him. He dropped his phone.”

“Follow his tracker, we’re on our way. Send paramedics." Namjoon hangs up, and looks to Hoseok, who’s already one step ahead of him.

By the time they find Taehyung, he’s half-asleep against an alleyway, bleeding from his hip. By the time they find Jungkook, he’s nearly collapsed, out of breath, against a fence.

“I lost him,” he says, and Namjoon curses, throwing his phone. 

Choi Jiae dies that night. Taehyung only needs a few stitches. His pride is more hurt than anything; I never even saw him!

They all visit the body – and there’s a dreadful solemnness that comes with it. She’s young, hair sprawled around her face, as policemen clean the crime scene. No older than seventeen. 

“A stab to the axillary,” Yoongi mumbles, and Namjoon turns away, breathing out a disappointed breath, because they just missed it. Only a week has gone by since the creation of the team, and they’ve already failed.

Jungkook is silent. He stays the longest, staring at the body.

“He had a hoodie,” Is all Jungkook says. He looks to Namjoon – and chills run down his back again, just from the stare alone. “He exited the apartment right after us. By the time we turned back, she was dead.”  

“Let’s regroup at the chapel tomorrow,” Namjoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We need a fresh start.”

Jungkook is still the last person to watch the body be zipped in a bag. For a reason Namjoon can’t explain, he almost wants to comfort him.

There’s fresh air in the chapel today. Seokjin opens a few windows, and birds sing outside. Namjoon didn’t sleep last night – instead he went home, and watched all the CCTV recordings Jimin had sent him. Never a face.

Namjoon clears his throat, and the room looks to him.

“I need to know everything,” Namjoon says. “If I find out anyone’s withholding important information on this case, I’ll have your ass.”

There’s a short silence. Namjoon nods.

“Okay, well,” He scratches his head. “I was hoping to lure out the men that wanted Hoseok dead before he went to jail – yes Hoseok, I read your file. We caught one, and he said one of the victims was connected to a mafia subordinate.”

"I thought I knew the name, Yoo Miyoung." Hoseok huffs, "Turns out she's Dookwang's niece." 

“That’s correct,” Yoongi sighs. “I visited an old friend the other day. Most of the victims are distant friends and family of mafia members. But so far, never a direct daughter or son.”

“Is that where that bruise is from?"

“They weren’t so happy to see me…” Yoongi mumbles. Hoseok laughs.

“What did the survivors have to say?” Seokjin asks.

“We spoke to both victims yesterday,” Taehyung says, nursing his side with stitches. “Min Eunah was a mother attacked in her own home.”

“How did she survive?” 

“Her daughter ran screaming, and the neighbors came to her rescue. Choi Jiae was a twin. Her sister died at her side, and she was half-strangled, before a dog scared the culprit off.”

“But he came back to finish what he started…” Namjoon mumbles. Something triggers in Jungkook. His head snaps up, from where it was tucked to his chest.

“The Begane Killer,” Jungkook speaks up, suddenly. “Park Haejin. I read all about the file last night. He had thirteen successful rain killings, before he was caught.”

Namjoon inhales, pieces fitting together.

Yoongi reaches the same conclusion, speaking barely above a whisper, “He’s trying to beat the record.”

“That’s it-“ Namjoon points, “The Gyeyang killings. It’s been some- some kind of-“

“Cult following,” Jungkook finishes.

“I’m googling it now,” Jimin types. “There’s nothing public, but there’s some private servers that mention the name Park Haejin. Wow, it’s way back in nineteen seventy.”

“Whoever it is, they’re either very old, or very young,” Seokjin says, thumbing at his lighter. “Old enough to remember the murders, or young enough to be that naïve.”

“Twelve…” Yoongi starts. “He’s at twelve now. He only needs one more to-“

He stops short. There’s a drip, whisper quiet, that runs down one of the glass-stained windows. Namjoon’s head snaps up, and there’s still sun – but there’s a barely-there drizzle, from a few of the low hanging clouds.

Namjoon’s heartrate skyrockets. Jungkook shoots to his feet.

“He’s going to finish what he started.”

“Min Eunah,” Taehyung gasps. “He’s going to match his perfect record.”

Seokjin immediately pulls out his phone and starts dialing numbers.

“Yes? Hello? This is Kim Seokjin, we need units in the area of Dalseo immediately-“

“I’m going to track down her phone,” Jimin says, hastily. “I’ll rewire it to your ankle bracelet tracker, and update the coordinates as I get it – it’ll take me a moment.”

“That’s fine, whoever can, let’s go,” Namjoon hustles. “Who’s the fastest driver?”

“That’s me.” Yoongi gestures, and Namjoon throws the keys. “Jimin-“

“Green lights only, I’m on it,” Jimin says, pulling up a list of all the crossroads from here to Eunah’s apartment.

“I’ll slow you down,” Taehyung gestures. Namjoon doesn’t look back.

She walks with her bag tucked under her arm. It’s not raining too hard – but just enough to dampen her hair.

Eunah is thankful for the half-shift today. She can send the babysitter home early, and spend time with her daughter. She starts preschool next month. Time is precious, these days.  

The rain picks up, only slightly, but Eunah doesn’t let it run her spirits. She rounds a corner, and it’s dark because of the tall office buildings. Nobody is here;  its dark at mid-day.

There’s feet behind her. Probably someone else walking home from the grocery store. She looks back, but there’s nobody there.

A body runs into her from the front – she jumps.

“Oh!” She gasps. “I’m so sorry.” Her grocery bag spills to the floor.

The old man smiles, “Oh no, it’s my fault. I rounded that corner too fast, haha-“

“You!” Enuah smiles. “You work at the nearby convenience store, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes,” he nods, politely. He reaches down to pick up one of her spilled apples, and she stops him short.

“No- I got it,” Eunah smiles. “You’ve always been so kind to me.”

“I’m glad,” the old man smiles, and then doesn’t.

Eunah only has a moment to see her purse roll down the hill, as she’s gripped by the hair, and dragged down the street. She screams, and he covers her mouth with a cloth. She screams, kicking, yelling – and he uses a nearby car to smack her head against, body going lip like a ragdoll. Blood drips down her temple, and she gargles, vision swimming.

“Don’t be a hassle,” he snaps, all remanence of that sweet old man voice, bled into bitter spit. He pulls out a knife, and she screams. He uses the butt of the knife to knock her out cold.

Hoseok and Jungkook nearly roll out of the car.

 Hoseok takes a running punch at the culprit, and his head almost swings off his shoulders. He stumbles back a foot, but Hoseok punches him again, a left hook, and his nose cracks. Jungkook catches the old man before he falls – if only to take him by the back of the hair, and crush his forehead against the nearby car. He wails, and Jungkook does it again, blood splattering across the white hood.

Yoongi comes barreling out of the van, Namjoon not far behind. Yoongi slides up to his knees by the girl, fingers feeling for injury. She’s alive, but very concussed.

Jungkook holds the man under his armpits, so Hosoek can punch him in the face again, and again, and again.

“You get off on this?!” Hoseok shouts. “On taking an innocent life?!”

Jungkook shoves him out of his arms when the man makes a gargled noise. He falls to the ground. Namjoon casually kicks his knife away, and raises a phone to his ear. He looks right up to the security camera connected to the nearest office building.

“You getting this, Jimin?”

“Oh yes,” Jimin purrs in his ear. “All of it.”

Cop cars crawl up the hill. Yoongi is dabbing at Eunah’s face with his shirt, assessing the wound on her temple. She’s passed out cold. Jungkook steps away from the culprit- but Hoseok kicks him while he’s down. The old man coughs up blood, rolling over onto his side.

“That’s enough,” Namjoon calls, and Hoseok backs off. Namjoon crouches to get a good look; balding old man, yellow teeth – the same guy from that convenience store. He looks up at Namjoon through watery eyes, face swollen, bloody, and bruised. Namjoon spits, and punches him once, knocking him out for good.

Seokjin steps out of a cop car, and jogs to their side, paramedics taking Eunah out of Yoongi’s hands.

Jin stares only for a moment, eyes flickering across the scene, and his lips draw up in a scowl.

Hoseok looks on and grins, “Do it.”

So Seokjin spits too, and turns on his heel, gesturing for the policemen to take him in. Jungkook stands, unmoving. Namjoon’s body moves before his mind; he sets a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, and squeezes. Jungkook turns to look at him, and his eyes are so stunning, Namjoon can't look for long. He lets go, and walks back to the car.

There's paperwork to do. 

When the swelling goes down, they question him in secret. Seokjin holds out photos of every murder scene, daring the killer to tell the details of each one.

The culprit doesn’t give up much of a fight. At first he refuses to speak – but Namjoon shuts off the security cameras, and grips him by the back of his bloody hair, slams his head against the table– and then he spills everything.

“They killed my wife,” he scowls. “She owed them money. They should’ve given her more time! Lee Dookwang – the fucker.”

“Then why didn’t you attack Lee-Dookwang himself?”

The culprit scoffs, “The head of the Incheon Mafia? Are you kidding? I knew I couldn’t touch him.”

“What about the Begane record?”

The man wipes his bleeding nose off on his shoulder, “Two birds, one stone.”

Seokjin lays out a file of photos. The culprit points to each murder, confesses, to all but one.

“Not this one,” he says. “This wasn’t me.”

Namjoon and Seokjin share a quizzical look, but say nothing.

It’s a relatively quick drive back to the chapel. He finds the whole team there, nobody run off, and they’re sitting closer than before, conversing before Namjoon and Seokjin open the doors.

They turn expectantly, and Hoseok even smiles. 

“So?”

“They confessed,” Namjoon says, and there’s a brief cheer from them all.

“Thank god,” Taehyung relaxes. “I was going to throw a real bitch fit if I was stabbed for nothing.”

“You’ve already thrown a bitch fit,” Jimin teases, and Taehyung jokingly flips him off.

“How about you get stabbed next time? I’ll sit behind a computer and press random keys all day. Pretending to work sure is hard.”

“Are you kidding me?! They never would’ve made it in time if I hadn’t h-“

“That’s enough,” Namjoon holds up a hand. “It was a group effort. Which is exactly what I wanted.” He gestures to Seokjin, who pulls out a bag with grease stains. “I brought burgers. You have an hour before the busses arrive.”

They all share a look, some of surprise, and some of excitement.

“Well shit,” Yoongi stands up. “I won’t turn down a hamburger.”

The rest of the group follows, and Seokjin hands them out with a smile Namjoon hasn’t seen in a while.

“Four years closer,” Hoseok hums, with a smile, relaxing back into one of the pews. Namjoon watches Jungkook silently take a burger, and retreat back into his corner. He opens it carefully, maliciously, without sound, and takes a soft little bite – and he looks…cute.

Namjoon can’t help but think of him, gripping the culprit by the hair, smashing him against the hood of a nearby car with surprising strength. It’s hard to imagine this as the same person.

Back then, Namjoon thinks he might’ve seen emotion on his face. Anger. Relief. Right now, there might be a smidge of happiness. His eyes aren’t as harsh, his lips not so pressed. He takes another bite, just as Jimin jokingly punches Taehyung in the bruised shoulder, and gets actually punched for it.

Yoongi breaks into a laugh, and it’s infectious.

The river is clearer today. Probably not, but Namjoon would like to think so. There's a soft breeze, cool enough for the river's humidity to cool his face.

Seokjin slides next to him, arms thrown over the bar. Namjoon doesn’t flinch, but his eyes do glance over.

“It’s nice to see you in casual clothes.”

Seokjin snorts, “I feel naked.”

“It’s the weekend,” Namjoon exhales. “Take a breather.”

"Prosecutor Im-Jaebum wrapped everything up nicely. He’ll never see a world beyond those walls again.”

Namjoon sighs, and leans against the fence, towards Seokjin.

“Must we talk about work?”

“Yes,” Seokjin sighs. “I already made a report to Commissioner Nam-Goohyun.”

“And?”

“I think he might be able to find some closure, knowing his son’s murderer is behind bars.”

Namjoon makes a sad noise, and looks back to the river.

Seokjin continues, “Your team solved the case in nine days. Our police force has been investigating it for two months.” He gives a short laugh, “It’s efficiency is undeniable. The commissioner would like to see it continue.”

“Our team,” Namjoon corrects.

“Excuse me?”

“Our team,” Namjoon smiles. “We’re in this together.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes, but doesn’t look too upset.

“How are they?” Namjoon asks, and Seokjin knows what he means.

“Antsy, but surprisingly well behaved.” Seokjin pushes his hair back when the wind blows it out of place. “I think...you gave them some kind of hope.”

“And what do you think of that?”

“I don’t know,” Seokjin says. “Do murderers deserve second chances?”

Namjoon clasps his shoulder, and takes a step back from the fence.

“Have trust, Jin.” Namjoon gives a half smile, before walking away. “I emailed you our next case file. Have them in the chapel by Thursday."

Chapter Text

Taehyung kicks off one foot, and spins on the other, delivering a swap kick to a goon’s chest. He blows backwards, and Taehyung only has a moment to dodge a barbed baseball bat swinging at his head. He grips a wrist, twists it, and the baseball bat clatters to the floor. He elbows the man in the face, and kicks him in Hoseok’s direction.

Hoseok uppercuts his jaw, and knocks him out cold.

“You know,” Hoseok turns, and flips an attacker over his shoulder, “I think I’m starting to like you.”

Taehyung break’s a man’s arm over his knee, and laughs, “You have a mean right hook.”

Someone hits Hoseok over the back of the head with a plank of wood. All Hoseok does is stumble, before he turns back around, and raises an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung stares. “What are you, a wall?” He knocks another man to the floor.

“You get used to it,” Yoongi says, whacking a skull against the wall. “One time I watched him crack open a walnut with his forehead.” Hoseok starts laughing.  

“How do you two know each other?”

Yoongi whips out a baton at his side, and it crackles with electricity; it’s his own concoction, that he made only moments ago out of whatever scraps these assholes had in a supply closet. He zaps a man in the chest, and he falls.

“Work. Well…old work.” He whacks another with the baton. The man flies right into Jungkook’s arms; the younger picks up a fallen baseball bat, and knocks him out cold.

“Can we not have this conversation right now?” Namjoon grits, and shoots a man in the knee. Four. Four bullets left. He can only afford three more shots, he still needs one for Madam Hwang.

They don’t hit hard enough to kill – but there’s still blood that slicks along the white linoleum floor.

“Why not, I’m having fun?”

“We still haven’t established contact with Seokjin and Jimin.” Namjoon pulls out his phone, now that this wave of mobsters has dwindled. No signal. Yoongi takes down the last goon.

“We need to hide somewhere,” Hoseok looks around. “Jungkook is hurt.”

That’s right. He’s still bleeding from his side, where a man stabbed him. Jungkook isn’t verbally complaining, but he looks exhausted. The blood slipping down his pantleg makes something dark tug at Namjoon’s heartstrings.

“Alright,” Namjoon gestures. “Let’s get out of this hall.”

He throws an arm under Jungkook’s armpits, and supports his weight. An arm sling over his shoulders; Namjoon adjusts his gait. Jungkook is a little heavy, but they make their way down the hall. Yoongi looks in a few rooms – some are only broom closets. Taehyung kicks down the door of an open room, just as heels skid around the hall.

“Oh…” Taehyung inhales.

Namjoon looks in, and god, the stench is enough to fry his eyebrows. He hears men approaching, so he hisses, “In, now!” 

They slide into the room, and crouch under the windows with just enough time for the men to run right past them. They wait a few moments in solid silence. Something drips.  Yoongi slides down the wall, and lets out a breath.

Namjoon looks up to take in where they are and, shit... just when you think you’ve seen everything –

The room is full of dead bodies on operating tables. Organs half out on tables. Blood and knifes scattered, like the workers left in a hurry. A woman’s intestines dangle off a table, like a swinging rope.

“Fuck,” Hoseok covers his nose. “This is- this is fucked up.”

Namjoon maneuvers Jungkook to the floor, slowly. He makes a pained noise. Namjoon feels bad; Jungkook must be in excruciating pain, but they’re in a bad spot, and Namjoon needs his head. Jungkook can take care of himself.  

“I’ll kill her.” Yoongi whispers. “I’ll kill her with my own hands.”

“Well…”

Namjoon pulls out the rolled up paper in his back pocket, and slides it along the floor. He gestures, and the other three come crawling.

“I found this floorplan when we split up,” Namjoon says. “The reason we can’t get a call out is because they shut off the cell tower, and the power, here-“ he points. “If I had to take a guess, Madam Hwang has taken cover here,” he points again, “on the eleventh floor. There’s a big cluster of electricity wire here.”

“We’re on the fourth floor,” Taehyung whispers. “There’s a mob on every stairwell.”

“So, what?” Hoseok blinks. “We fight our way out?”

“We’ll die trying,” Yoongi sighs.

Jungkook says exactly what Namjoon is thinking.

“Unless we take her as a hostage.”

“Yes,” Namjoon nods.

“How?”

“Well, the generator switch is right here, on the third floor. It’s Garage 3.”

“But that’s probably where SWAT is.”

“Fuck,” Hoseok curses. “How did this happen?”

Namjoon would like to know too. It was a simple kidnapping case; they tracked the girl down to a warehouse way out in the boondocks, where they saved her right before a totally unlicensed doctor sliced her open, and harvested her organs.

In an attempt to stop the human trafficking at the source, Namjoon thought to cut the snake off at the head. Commissioner Goohyun handed him a research file on Madam Hwang, an ex-convict that, once freed from jail, made a fortune running a human trafficking business larger than South Korea. It’s a mission bigger than the police can handle. That’s why Namjoon thought they had a chance.

Only a limited amount of people knew about the raid; Namjoon’s investigation team, Commissioner Goohyun, and Seokjin’s assistant cop.

“Well, if Jungkook’s stab wound has anything to say, Seokjin’s buddy was definitely tipped off by Madam Hwang,” Namjoon grumbles. Lord, he hopes Seokjin isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere.

Taehyung huffs, “And the chief of SWAT, I’m guessing.”

“God dammit, the police aren’t even on our side.” Hoseok thumps his head back against the wall. “The odds aren’t looking good, guys.”

“We can do it,” Jungkook says, suddenly, all heads turning to him. He’s tearing off the corner of a forgotten tablecloth, and pressing it to his side to stop the bleeding – and shit, Namjoon would be a liar to say the determined look in his eye isn’t attractive.

Yoongi nods, “Yeah. We can’t just – let this go on right under our nose.” He gestures to the bodies around them. There’s a chorus of agreements, and Namjoon almost wants to smile at their nobility.

“Alright then,” Namjoon says. “I have a plan.” 

Like Namjoon said, the electricity was cut on garage three. Yoongi throws open the box with a scowl; someone went crazy with pliers, pulling at shit that wasn’t even near the power- whatever, okay, fine.

It’s an easy fix, you know, after he spent most of his time blowing up a SWAT van. He’d feel nervous, if he wasn’t technically already in jail.

He clips the ends of both red wires, and twists them back together. It gives him a short shock, but the power to the garage flickers back on. Yoongi unscrews the back box with a bobby pin, flips a few breakers, and disables the security cameras for good measure.

True to Yoongi’s promise, the power comes on after ten minutes.

Namjoon looks to the rest of his team. Jungkook is barely standing, supported by Hoseok. He really hates to drag Jungkook along – but leaving him alone would be worse, so when the elevator door dings open, they all step in.

It’s a long elevator ride to the top. The lights flicker out once or twice along the way, and they hold their breath each time. Nobody says a thing, elevator shaking, eight, nine, ten-

It dings open.

It’s a lackluster reveal. 

She’s just sitting there, a looking in a mirror, and she hardly spares them a glance. Hwang looks to be in her late forties; she’s dressed head-to-toe Armani, makeup painted across her face. A pair of eyeballs float in a jar on the table.

Namjoon raises his gun.

“Madam Hwang.”

She doesn’t even flinch.

“I’m getting wrinkles…” she sighs. “Skin is so valuable these days…”

“Put the mirror down,” Namjoon calls. “You’re under arrest for literally everything.”  

She doesn’t flinch. Taehyung stalks over, and rips the mirror out of her hand, shattering it against the wall.

Hwang looks up and scoffs, “Seven years bad luck.”

“Don’t give me another reason to shoot you,” Namjoon flicks the gun to the elevator and back. “Get in.”

“You’re taking me hostage?” She laughs. “Just shoot me then.”

Namjoon fires right above her head, and bits of ceiling rein down into her hair. She jumps, flinching, and Namjoon counts.

Two more.

“Don’t test him,” Hoseok grins. “He’ll do it.”

Taehyung huffs. Namjoon hears an exhale from Jungkook that he might’ve taken for a laugh. Taehyung stalks over, and grips Hwang around the forearm, yanking her onto her feet.

They step into the elevator together. She’s gone silent, eyes turned from teasing, to livid. She tries to jerk out of Taehyung’s grip, but Taehyung tugs her still.

They stop at the fourth floor to pick up Yoongi. He walks in quietly, the aura twisting tighter. Namjoon steadies his hand on his pistol, and pulls on his best poker face. Now isn’t the time to fold.

They make it all the way to the lobby. Namjoon holds the gun to her temple, as the elevator doors open. There’s over fifty men huddled in the lobby, all with hammers, baseball bats, and knives, more than prepared to stop them. They’re dressed in suits, all with the order to kill.

They run forwards, and Namjoon clicks the safety.

“Move!” He yells. “Or I’ll shoot.”

They pause. The goons look to each other, confused.

Hoseok snaps, “You heard him!”

They slowly shuffle to the side, mumbling. A little path parts. Namjoon takes a step forwards, a hand lethal at her lower back, gun pressed to her forehead. The front door is visible, and tempting.

“I don’t care if I die,” Hwang suddenly says, with a smile. “I have a new order. Whoever kills them, has the honor of taking my place.”

There’s a pang of silence in the lobby. It’s full, hot, and Namjoon feels sweat run down his neck. He only has half a second to look to his team – and there’s a universal understanding between them.

We’re not walking out of here.

“What are you waiting for?!” Hwang screeches, and the men jump forward.

Namjoon looks to Jungkook. Jungkook nods.

So Namjoon whacks Hwang out cold with the butt of his gun, and fires into the leg of the nearest goon.

One.

Seokjin sucks in a breath through his nose, the gag wet and chaffing in his mouth.

He watches Alex dig three feet away, dirt kicking his way every so often. This bitch plans to bury him alive – Seokjin scoffs at the betrayal. They went to training camp together! Seokjin showed him how to make bulgogi! Alex taught him curse words in English!

Seokjin feels the ropes around his wrists start to loosen. When Alex looks his way, Seokjin draws panic into his eyes, and Alex turns back to digging. Seokjin sighs, and continues to move the glass shard against the bonds. Just a little closer –

The ropes tug free. Seokjin immediately jumps to his feet, not even taking the time to pull the gag out of his mouth, before he kicks Alex in the back, and sends him face-forward into the hole he’s digging.

Alex shouts; Seokjin takes the abandoned shovel, and whacks him over the head with it. He’s out cold.

Fuck fuck fuck, his phone – Seokjin pats around. He dropped it somewhere, but he finds Alex’s phone abandoned in the short grass.

He dials a number out of memory.  

“This is Kim Seokjin!” He shouts, stumbling over a log, and running out of the brush. “We’ve been compromised!”

Hoseok and Yoongi are like a tag team from hell.

One breaks noses, the other sends them to the floor. Hoseok elbows a man in the face, and kicks another in the chest. He flies towards Yoongi, who cracks his baton over his neck, and zaps him out cold.

Taehyung finds himself backed into a corner. There’s a mass fury of weapons that fly his way, so he ducks, sweeps out the feet of a few, and takes out three men with precise kicks and jabs. He never extends his limbs for too long, always moving, eyes watching everything at once.

A man runs at Taehyung from behind. Jungkook rips a painting off the wall, and whacks him over the head with it.

“Nice!” Taehyung laughs, and then stops when Jungkook groans from the pain in his side.

“Here kid,” Yoongi folds up his baton, and tosses it Jungkook’s way. He catches it with one hand, and nods a silent thank you. He immediately turns on his heel, and electrocutes a goon.

Namjoon has his hands full with a group of three that just won’t stay down. He takes a hit to the shoulder and grunts, feeling the bones grind and groan. He turns on his heel and says fuck it, shooting his last bullet at a man’s shoulder, and throwing the gun like a boomerang, nailing another in the forehead.

He hears Hoseok laugh something like creative, before turning around and ripping the hammer out of a man’s hand. He swings it into someone’s side, and they go down.

“Yoongi!” Namjoon yells, but a man already is swinging at Yoongi’s head. Yoongi grunts, going down to a knee.  Hoseok jumps to his side, flipping a man over the receptionist desk, and ripping the monitor off the counter, swinging it until he sideswipes two mobsters off their feet.

Namjoon hits too hard, and feels his knuckles bleed. A baseball bat swings for the back of his knees, and he goes down. His head smacks against the floor, and his vision blurs.

He sees a knife swing his way. Namjoon rolls onto his back, grinds his teeth, and clasps the knife between his hands, inches away from his neck. His hands bleed around the knife, but Namjoon grits, “You are not killing me-“ and kicks the knife away, grabbing it and slicing through the nearest leg.

He tries to roll to his feet, but his head swims from the pain. He sees a man approach from the left – but he suddenly screams, falling to the floor.

Jungkook appears behind him, Yoongi’s magic stick hissing with electricity. He releases the button, and sticks out a hand.

“Are you okay?”

Namjoon snorts, “Are you?” He lets Jungkook help him, and they both grunt in pain.

Some of the men are already starting to make their way back to their feet. The entryway is still blocked off, men with knives rushing their way, and Namjoon feels his stomach drop.

“Come on,” Jungkook raises his baton. Namjoon nods, and ignores the pain in his palms in order to properly grip the knife he stole.

Suddenly the sprinklers come on.

Water gushes from the ceiling. It’s loud and heavy, soaking through clothing in an instance. Some freeze, looking up in confusion, as soon as the PA system comes on.

“Wow, fuck, that took way longer than I was expecting.”

Namjoon breaks out into a smile.

 “Jimin?”

“Cutting the power was a dirty, dirty trick. But, I mean, I am working off a hotspot here.”

Jungkook whispers, “Wait…hotspot...”

“If you’re not a part of our super-secret boyband, then you have two seconds to get on the floor before the police blow this place to kingdom come.”

There’s a window that shatters. Cops pour in wearing riot gear, and semi-automatic rifles raise. The goons look to each other, and slowly drop their weapons.

Taehyung slides to his knees, and wipes the blood dripping down his forehead with a laugh. Jungkook follows him, hand bracing to his side as he sits.

Seokjin comes in, and he’s holding a rifle as well.

“On the ground!” He shouts. “Hands behind your back!” He meets Namjoon’s eye and grins.

Jimin dips a cloth in water, and wipes off the blood dried on Yoongi’s forehead.

“Wow, they fucked you guys up.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi says flatly.

Namjoon flexes his hands around the new bandages, and nods a thank-you to the nurse. She steps away to check Jungkook’s vitals, before exiting the room.

The hospital room feels full with all of them here, but it’s…not bad. Hoseok and Taehyung sit in adjacent chairs, their hands and foreheads similarly wrapped in bandages. Yoongi braces against the windowsill, and silently lets Jimin clean the rest of the blood away.

There’s a strange aura in the room. One of contentment. Hwang is in holding, as well as her mob following. Knowing the streets are a little safer. It’s a good feeling.

Namjoon tiredly looks to Jungkook. He’s asleep in the hospital bed, new stitches hidden by bandages wrapped around his waist. The kid got lucky – the stab wound didn’t hit any vital organs. He looks peaceful, hair tousled around his face. He notices a petite scar on his cheek, and Namjoon is completely overwhelmed with the sudden desire to kiss it.

The thought alone is so shocking, that Namjoon completely zones out, if only to think: FUCK.

“Alright,” Jimin steps away, and ushers Yoongi aside. “Next.”

“I’m good,” Taehyung deadpans.

“You hardly let the nurses touch you,” Jimin snaps. “You look like a crusty popsicle.”

Taehyung glares, and Jimin stares hotly back, so Taehyung groans, heaving to his feet, and shuffling towards Jimin. He gets a new rag, and dips it in cold water, smoothing away the blood on Taehyung’s cheeks. It's touching.

“You’re all free to go,” Namjoon says, drawing the attention of the room.

Hoseok tips his head, “What?”

“Go, wherever,” Namjoon waves his hand wearily. “We’ll give you a whole day. Do whatever you want before we collect you for jail on Tuesday. You've earned it.”

They go silent. Jungkook’s heart monitor beeps quietly, his sleeping breaths suddenly audible. Yoongi and Hoseok share a look. Jimin pauses, before dipping his cloth back in the water.

“I’m good,” Jimin says.

“Yeah,” Hoseok exhales, and leans back in the hospital chair to get comfortable. “Do you think that T.V. has cable?”

“Probably,” Yoongi pats around for the remote. He finds it and tosses it Hoseok’s way.

Namjoon is speechless. He swallows, and starts again, “What, really?”

“Fuck dude, you really think I got anywhere else to go?” Jimin laughs. “Well. I might go hook up with an old bud of mine. I need something better than that thousand-year-old Dell you have me working off of.” He jabs his thumb for Taehyung to move.

Namjoon looks to Taehyung, who’s been quiet. He avoids his eye, rubbing his nose, and stepping towards the doorway. Namjoon expects him to leave – but Taehyung turns and asks, “I’m getting food. Whatya’ want?”

“From the hospital cafeteria?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Thanks, but I’d rather choke.”

Taehyung turns back around and snaps, “Hey! See if I ever do anything nice for you agai-“ he stops short, when he realizes that it came from Jungkook, who’s slowly heaving himself into a sitting position. “Hey!” Taehyung laughs, “You made a joke!”

“No I didn’t,” Jungkook deadpans.

“Hey, hey,” Namjoon stands, to press a hand against his chest. “Not so fast.”

“Well I obviously can’t sleep,” Jungkook clips, and the drugs have made him a little loose, because he sways a little, and mumbles nonsense. Namjoon ignores how cute it is, and tries to steady him to avoid pulling stitches.

There’s a chorus of sorry, sorry, before Taehyung takes everyone’s order, and heads down to the cafeteria. He runs into Seokjin in the lobby – and they carry it back up together.

“Hey, did you ever notice that we’re all really good looking?” Hoseok gestures. “We deserve a better name than the Special Investigations Team.”

“Ooh, I like your thinking,” Taehyung points. “Sexy Special Investigations Team.”

“Exactly!”

The break between cases hasn’t been very long – two weeks at most. It could’ve been less, but after the mess that was the organ trafficking bust, Namjoon figured they could use some rest. However, they’re fresh off the buses, and already babbling to each other like friends. Taehyung has an arm around Hoseok’s shoulders as they walk into the church, and it’s something Namjoon thought he’d never see.

“It needs more,” Jimin gestures, “flare. Like the Super Sexy Special Investigations Team. The SSSIT."

“Nah, that sounds like a ship,” Yoongi says, taking a seat next to Jimin, and kicking his feet on the pew in front.

“The Attractive Kick Butt Team?”

“AKBT? That sounds like a sneeze.”

“I think we’ll stick with SIT, thanks,” Seokjin says, but his tone is light as he leans against the windowsill.

Jungkook is the last one to arrive. Namjoon was hesitant on inviting him back, but when asked, Jungkook was insistent on returning.

“Hey,” Namjoon nods, as Jungkook climbs the steps. He’s back in casual clothes, ripped light-denim jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Hi,” Jungkook nods back. He shyly looks back to the floor.

Namjoon lays a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from stepping away. “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook swallows. “I’ll be fine.”

“Take it easy then, okay? If there’s a rescue mission, you’re staying back with Jimin.”

Jungkook doesn’t look too happy about that, but he nods respectfully, and steps into the chapel. He takes a seat towards the back, but it’s not the very back, only a row behind Hoseok and Taehyung. Character development.

“Alright,” Namjoon wipes his hands on his jeans. “The next case happened twenty-four hours ago in Jinhae.” He walks through the isle, towards the podium. He stops towards the end of the stage, and smiles, “But first, we have some new toys.”