Chapter Text
The thick scent of cigarette smoke blackened his throat and lungs, easing the nerves rippling beneath Jeon Jeongguk’s skin. The grey tendrils rose from the orange tip and flickered out of existence as it rose to the sky.
Gritty, red brick bit into Jeongguk’s back from his well-fit leather jacket, grounding him as much as the nicotine staining his insides.
Each sharp inhale of the poison caressing his lungs was a breath of relief. His eyes were locked on the looming building across the street, which was mostly desolate at the dwindling hour of the night.
Despite the night, the summer humidity of Seoul hadn’t bothered to let up. Sweat plastered his black shirt to mold against him like a second skin, thick droplets beading at his temples and dripping over his top lip.
The itch to duck inside and find some actual air conditioning was a hammer to his temples; the heavy leather jacket wrapped around him seeming to damn him further in the unbearable August heat.
He stays still, tattooed fingers twitching around the white stick.
Pressing his shoulder blades harder against the brick, delighting in the bite it offered, cigarette dangling from his lips, earrings twinkling with every tiny movement; he waited. If there was anything that he was astounding at- it was waiting.
His phone was clutched in his hands, each second of the timer sending a new flurry of adrenaline to jet through his veins. A high that he just couldn’t shake.
10 seconds.
Jeongguk takes the cigarette butt out of his mouth, tossing it to the cement and smashing it with the heel of his black boot.
5 seconds.
Hiking up the black backpack further up his shoulders and slipping the plastic mask over his face, Jeongguk adjusts the hood to cover his hair and earrings, then slips on his gloves.
2 seconds.
He scoffed the metal toe of his combat boots, teeth gritting at the rebounding sound of metal on concrete.
The alarm blared.
Show time.
On cue, the building in front of him light’s flickered, the generator shutting down. The camera’s outside lights turned red, then cut off completely. Glancing down at his phone, he checks the footage- clear.
Dashing across the street, head low, Jeongguk slipped past the dead camera, opening the control panel and putting in the self-made passcode.
The door clicked. Shoving it open with his shoulder, Jeongguk slides inside.
The interior of the bank was clean and crisp; fancy oakwood desks lining the marbled floors and gold trim on every perfectly painted wall. It made Jeongguk’s nose curl at the bleach and floral scent that permitted the air.
The marble floor was so immaculate that he could catch sight of his white rabbit mask staring back at him, glinting in slight distortion from the streetlamps that was his only source of light.
55 seconds.
Ignoring the front room, Jeongguk jogs his way past the desks, the sounds of his boots echoing over the high ceilings. Reaching the gold wrought wire door to the back, Jeongguk clicks his tongue in annoyance at the manual lock.
Opening his backpack, he pulls out his pick-lock kit and kneels in front of the lock. Tongue peeking out of his mouth, Jeongguk works silently to wait for the click. Fingers trained to ease in the pin, shifting ever so slightly.
It sounds off, and Jeongguk shoves his kit in his pocket while yanking open the door. The memory of the bank’s map lingered at the forefront of his mind as he hurries into the open hallways, laden with doors to offices, bathroom’s, and conference rooms.
30 seconds.
Each second that ticked down in his mind was a needle being stabbed into his skin.
Hissing between his teeth, sweat prickling uncomfortably at his skin, Jeongguk sprints through the hall, turning left at the end, and grinning to himself when he sees the wooden door with golden lettering Control Room.
Shoving open the door, Jeongguk flicks on the lights and scans the room. Monitors piled with more monitors, the cut-off video footage from his own doing back in his Burrow, Jeongguk plops into the leather chair.
12 seconds.
Clicking the mouse, the monitor blaring to life, Jeongguk licks his dry, cracked lips. The password screen pops up. “Time to make you mine.”
Unzipping his bag, he pulls out his USB port, plugs it in, checks the alarm, and the screen turns green. Heart pounding faster, sand falling from his imaginary time dial, he rewrites the entire system, then types in his new password.
5 seconds.
Heart thrumming, Jeongguk hurries over to security and clicks off all alarms, leaves the cameras on footage of the bank and the outside. He filmed the footage himself earlier in the week, knowing that any guard that looked at it would see nothing wrong.
Jeongguk sighs in relief as the alarm sounds off.
Clear.
Phase 1, infiltrate. Success.
Phase 2, guard check. Starting.
Ejecting the USB, Jeongguk turns his attention back to his phone, flicking through the actual feed being fed through the cameras set up along the entire bank and outside of it.
1 guard, second hallway. Two rounds.
2 more guards, circling the corridor nearest to the vault.
2 guards near the electronic money transfer computer, end of the last hallway.
Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Jeongguk zips up his bag and leans against the door, listening.
The guard passes by.
Counting down from ten, Jeongguk opens the door and slips further down the hallway until he reaches the split between the halls. He jerks back when he sees the two guards, standing in front of the door that leads to the vault at the end of the hall.
“Hyunsik-ssi, did you hear something?”
Handcuffs clink, boots scoffing the marble floor. “The feed is clean. Nothing strange.”
Light clicks on. Jeongguk holds his breath, keeping his entire body completely still. The boots sound a bit closer, hovering just between the junction of the opening where Jeongguk was hiding.
“I don’t see anything, but I swear I heard steps.”
“Come off it, Jaebeom-ssi,” the other guard says, scoffing. Hyunsik, if Jeongguk recalls. He stashes the name for later. “There is nothing here. I’m checking the feed for the other hall now. Nothing.”
“Fine.” The steps fade away, pausing back in front of the vault door. “You off next Friday?”
“Yeah. After all these graveyard shifts, I need some shut eye already. The wife is already on my ass about missing dinners or something like that.” Hyunsik guffaws, a hint of a dialect trailing his words. “How ‘bout you? Plans?”
“The only plans I make are with my bed,” Jaebeom grumbles. “Not all of us get wives and homemade meals prepared by them.”
“Come for dinner, then. Heavens know I see you around enough to bring you home to the Mrs.”
Jaebeom laughs heartily. “Sounds alright. Let’s make our next round.”
Jeongguk counts, exhaling as quietly as he could as the sounds of the boots become distant. The numbers in his head trickle as he peeks around the corner, noting the empty hall, and awaiting door.
“Bingo.”
Slipping from his hiding place, Jeongguk hurries down the hall and checks the door. Locked. Heaving a heavy sigh of annoyance, tongue poking against his cheek in irritation, he checks the system.
Electronic based. Keypad passcode.
Oh, such simpletons.
Snorting at his own thoughts, Jeongguk kneels. He doesn’t have long, but he has enough time for this. Pulling out his tablet, he types in his passcode, opening it to the blank screen.
Connecting the device to the door’s passcode lock, Jeongguk stares at the encryption in front of him. Breaking it down, he easily breaks through the barriers and manage to get into the device coding.
Boots.
Jeongguk’s head darts up, nose wiggling in a rush of anxiety, and flickers his attention back to the task at hand. The codes were a bit harder to understand than usual, but nothing he couldn’t solve.
“Come on, come on! Take it,” Jeongguk hisses between clenched teeth as the data he inputs loads. Reads. Declined. “Son of a bitch.”
He retypes. Reforms. The boots are getting closer. Send package. Package sent. Completed.
“Finally.”
Shoving open the door, Jeongguk tosses his bag and tablet inside. The sounds of boots were rounding the corner, and Jeongguk practically throws himself in after his bag and as gently as possible closing the door behind him.
The lock reattaches.
Phase 3, enter vault corridor. Completed.
Phase 4, money acquirement. In progress.
Slowly getting to his feet, making sure his boots don’t make a sound, Jeongguk glances around the barren hallway. The plastic mask was beginning to grow uncomfortable, sweat pouring from every fiber of his body, but he ignores the growing discomfort.
Huffing, he treads carefully down the hall, the huge golden vault ignited like a shrine by the security lights. Satisfaction touches his insides as he pauses in front of it, staring up at it with a smirk.
“My pot of gold at the end of the rainbow,” he breathes to himself, patting the cool metal.
Yanking open his backpack, Jeongguk sets to work. He pulls out his electromagnetic device, spinning the dial and placing the sticky part near the vault’s locking mechanism. Pulling up his tablet, he enters his passcode, turning the device on.
It lights up, a humming starting from beneath it.
“God, I want a cigarette,” Jeongguk muses to himself, pulling down his hood to run his fingers through his disgustingly damp hair. He was sure he probably smelled rancid- smoke and sweat that wasn’t mixed with sex was never a favorite of his.
The device dings, lighting up blue, and the vault groans. Jeongguk pulls off the device, puts it in his bag with his tablet, then groans as he begins to twist the wheel. He swore out loud at the strain on his muscles, praising his vigorous workout regimen instantly.
Clenching his jaw, Jeongguk pulled open the vault and then stepped inside. Jeongguk whistles, a slow grin curling over his features.
“Phase 5, collect. In progress.”
Unzipping his bag, Jeongguk got to work. He heaves piles of money into the bottom of his bag, stuffing it around his equipment and checking the camera feed periodically. The guards were making their next round.
Tick, tock, on the clock.
Cursing, Jeongguk worked faster until he was sure he was good and zipped up his bag to hike it up on his shoulders. He checked the footage, squinting through each feed, but paused when he swore he saw a flash of navy blue in the corner of one of the cameras.
“What?”
Red flashes in his vision. Jeongguk nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden blaring of the bank’s alarm.
Eyes widening, Jeongguk booked it out of the vault. He shoved his phone back in his pocket, already tearing down the corridor and slamming himself against the door. Lock unclicking, Jeongguk nearly falls face first out into the hall.
Instead of the two guards that Jeongguk was expecting, it was three armed police officers, and another wearing bulletproof vest, but no uniform. The only problem was all of them were armed, and their gun was pointed at Jeongguk’s forehead.
“Velveteen, you are hereby under arrest for Breaking & Entering, Computer Fraud and Abuse, grievous bodily harm, bank robbery, store robbery, assault and battery, attack an officer of the law, and more,” Bullet Vest grunts from behind his head gear, voice muffled and sharp. “Drop everything you have and put your hands in the air.”
The officers exchanged uneasy glances, hands tightening around their guns. A smirk curled at Jeongguk’s lips, but held up his hands in surrender, then slowly eased the bag off his shoulders and let it tumble to the ground with an audible thump.
“You’re not a uniform,” Jeongguk muses, cocking his head as he examines the man through his mask. “How interesting.”
“Shut up. Put your hands against the wall, feet spread apart. Move it.”
Muffling his laughter, Jeongguk trails towards the wall and places his hands firmly against the cool plaster. The sound of Bullet Vest returning his gun to his hip and stepping closer tickled at his ears, but he waited, body deceivingly loose as small, pudgy hands fluttered over his waist.
Jeongguk feigns a shudder. “Normally, they take me on a first date before getting so handsy.”
Bullet Vest hisses, disgust creating a line between his dark eyes that Jeongguk couldn’t really make out in the dull lightening. Instead, he slams Jeongguk against the wall. “Shut your filthy mouth, you rat.”
“Rabbit, actually,” Jeongguk drawls tiredly, “and, oh, I should have known you like it rough. I would like to inform you that my safe word is banana milk. Do you have a safe word?”
The law enforcement officer pauses, then slams his foot against Jeongguk’s shin. Clenching his jaw to keep the pained sound, he instead cranes his head over his shoulder to catch the man’s hardened gaze.
“You’re not much of a talker, are you?”
The man turns away, signaling the three officers. “Check his bag.”
Jeongguk sighs, wiggling his fingers experimentally. “You must be new to my case, short-stack, so here’s the thing. I can’t let you touch that.”
The man turns back around. His brow was ticked in irritation to the jab to his height, which Jeongguk was delighted actually suited. The man was at least a few feet shorter than him- ranging around 5’8 or 5’9.
“Oh? And what are you going to do to stop it? You’re already under arrest.”
Jeongguk hums non-committedly, waiting for the cool metal of handcuffs to brush over his wrists. “Am I?”
As soon as he felt the metal graze his heated flesh, Jeongguk moved. Using the blunt of his elbow, he slammed it into the softer part of the military grade bulletproof vest.
Instantly, Bullet Vest gasps, bending over to clutch his wounded side. Dropping low, Jeongguk swings out his leg, collects the man’s ankles using the curve of his foot, and yanks the man’s balance from right under him.
When the man tumbles onto the floor, Jeongguk flipped his whole body, landing on his feet, and kicked up the backpack so landed right back in his hands. The officers shout, but Jeongguk doesn’t linger to listen to their jargon.
He runs.
Sprinting towards the staircase, Jeongguk didn’t even bother to go towards the exit. There would be nothing but police officers crawling all over the place.
Instead, he took two steps at a time up the stairwell.
Each breath was labored, the sound of the door being slammed open echoed like gun shots over the stairwell. He flinches, picking up his speed as boots crashed the cement steps.
“There is! Get him! He’s headed for the roof! We can cut him off up top!” Bullet Vest screams.
Jeongguk would have snorted, if he had air to give away. Since breathing was hard from the mask, heated, and running, he settled on scoffing internally. He realizes this officer must be new or at least new to his case.
What a shame.
He seemed like fun to mess with, but now wasn’t the time.
How he had gotten caught would be the first problem to figure out. Who leeched him? He had done everything perfectly. The codes were perfect, cameras in place. No alarms. Who sounded him off?
Using the wall, Jeongguk ran up it, then using the force of his own weight, shoved himself up almost an entire flight of stairs. When he reached the top, he shoved open the door.
Gasping for air from beneath the mask, Jeongguk assess what he has to work with. Five floors down. Two buildings on either side. No open windows, but a couple of ledges. A few outside porches.
Jeongguk treads over to the side, bending down to stare at the drop. It was a nasty drop, a bit harder since the ledges were shorter, but it was doable. He could leap to the balcony across the way, slide down the water draining pipe, jump to the bank wall, then land on the second-floor balcony.
Time’s up.
The stairwell door is slammed open, Bullet Vest heaving in heavy breathes as he tears off his mask and glares at where Jeongguk was standing.
A youthful face, sharp jawline, and messy silver hair was what greeted Jeongguk, and he was glad that he had his own mask otherwise his face would have given away that shock at seeing such a handsome officer.
Although, he wasn’t wearing a uniform. Detective, perhaps? Still, the man was young, and seemed to be somewhat intelligent to get this far. Smart and sexy, mixed with a goody-two-shoes.
Mini Bullet Vest gestures around. “Come on, Bugs Bunny. There’s nowhere to run! Give it up.”
Jeongguk inches closer to the ledge, heart beginning to race and adrenaline surging in his gut. He loves this. Craves this. Even delights in the chase, but nothing beats the freedom of jumping.
“You seemed to have forgotten something, Tiny.” Jeongguk takes another step back. “Rabbits don’t run. We hop.”
Confusion blooms over the officer’s face, then widens with realization. He moves to run forwards, but Jeongguk already turned and leapt. Stretching out his hand, he caught the iron-wrought fence of the balcony, swung his weight, released, and pushed himself off the wall, then landed on the water draining pipe.
Each movement was jarring to his arms, to his legs. His core was burning from effort of keeping not only himself up, but his weighted backpack filled with electronics and stacks of cash.
Clenching his jaw, Jeongguk slid himself down, leapt to the next balcony, and then sticks out his landing by rolling with the force of it. Once back to his feet, he doesn’t even bother looking back up, merely dashes towards the alley exit and his escape route.
What he wasn’t expecting was something to hit his leg. Pain shocks his system, eyes widening as his body briefly convulses. He collapses against the sidewalk, gasping as the shocks fade, but the tremors over his body don’t.
Two officers run over.
Jeongguk tensed, wanting to move, but his limbs felt sluggish. Lead hardening to iron within his legs and arms as one officer tears off his backpack. His fingers twitch, a growl tearing from his throat.
“Got it. Detective Park was right; loaded with cash,” the female officer says, zipping the bag back up.
The male officer rolled him onto his stomach, a grunt leaving his mouth before he could censor it, and hands being yanked behind his back. He flinches as handcuffs are tightened to the point of pain around his wrist.
“You’re under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future.”
Jeongguk is yanked to his feet. He stumbles, legs prickling with odd sensations. He jerks in a feeble attempt to get away, but the officer tightens his grip around his bicep and wrangles him closer to the police cruiser.
“Officer Han. It’s alright. I’ll take him off your hands,” Bullet Vest speaks up.
Jeongguk swivels his head around, mouth curling in outrage as the man approaches. He looked a little windblown, but satisfaction and arrogance was dripping like honey from the man’s walk; hips swaying and plush pink lips grinning like a wolf who caught the hare.
“You,” Jeongguk snarls, jerking forwards to get the man.
Officer Han pulls him back harshly, fingers bruising his bicep. Bullet Vest pauses in front of them, smirk steadily growing.
“Are you sure, Detective Park? I know you’re still new to Seoul, and this one is highly dangerous, so I don’t mind keeping an eye on him,” Officer Han says calmly.
Bullet Vest- no, Park- only shakes his head and offers a pleasant smile. It stretches his mouth, revealing crooked front teeth, and his cheeks puffing slightly so his eyes turned into crescents.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about me. I can handle myself just fine against Carrots here. Go ahead and join your partner.”
Officer Hans shoves him forward.
Jeongguk, still reeling from being hit with a taser, loses his balance and falls forward. He would have landed directly on his nose if Park hadn’t easily grabbed his bicep and yanked him back up and slammed him against the police cruiser.
Jeongguk snarls through his teeth. “You. You piece of fucking shit.”
Park laughs heartily. “I’ve heard about the Velveteen’s theatrics, but I must admit. You put on quite the show.” Maneuvering him off the cruiser, Jeongguk is tugged back around so his back is pressed against the car and he is facing forward. “So, listen up, Carrots. You’re officially under arrest. You can either a) get in my car and drive peacefully to the station or b) I can taser your ass to the point where your dick will be sending off shocks with every brush over your boxers.” He smiles prettily. “Your choice.”
“Banana milk.”
Park arches a thin brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Not even your safe word can help you. So, option A or option B? Tick tock. Better hop along, little rabbit.”
“Whatever. It’s hot. I’m sweating my balls off.”
“Right.” Park grabs his arm.
Jeongguk bites his tongue as he is literally dragged away from the cruiser and instead to a sleek black Camry. It wasn’t a cheap model. Clean. Average.
Digging out his key from his pocket, the car unlocks.
“Look at you, Tiny. Riding in style.” Park shoves him against the hood. Jeongguk grunts, breathless for a moment, then chuckles. “What’s the matter? Did I hit a nerve? Certainly not about this nice car… oh! Is it because I said you’re tiny?”
“Unless you want the taser to go up your ass, I suggest you shut your mouth,” Park growls, a dangerous edge lining his voice as he yanks Jeongguk back around.
Jeongguk shudders. “Oh, that’s kinky. I bet you’re into all kinds of things.” He pauses, watching as Park opens the car door, shoving his police files and laptop aside. “Car sex. Hot, sexy car sex. Bondage. Oh, even better- daddy kink?”
Park turns slowly towards him. “Do you ever shut up?”
“No.”
“Clearly.” Park strides over, hand reaching to tug off his mask, but Jeongguk jerks his head away briskly. The man pauses. “Oh? Don’t want your face revealed?”
“Suck my dick, Tiny.”
Park shrugs absently. “Small things are a choking hazard, I’m afraid.”
Jeongguk makes a strangled noise in his throat, but Park reaches over and yanks off the mask before he could even manage to duck away.
Jeongguk glares at Park with as much outrage as he could possibly muster.
Faltering, the Detective finally looks taken off guard. His mouth parts, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, and his pudgy fingers tighten a minuscule around his white rabbit mask.
Jeongguk smirks cruelly. “Like what you see, Tiny?”
“You- you’re a fucking kid?”
Irritation flares in Jeongguk’s gut. “I’m not a fucking kid.”
Park scoffs. “You’re literally, like what? Fifteen?”
“Then you’re literally, like what? Twelve?” Jeongguk rebukes, narrowing his eyes into slits.
The reaction from Park was instant. His cheeks mottled red, angry clear in the flaring of his nostrils as he grabbed Jeongguk’s arm and shoved him into the back, slamming the door directly in his face.
A surge of pride was instantaneous. He watched in mild amusement as Park stomped his way around the car, piling himself in and starting it in a single, smooth motion. A practiced action.
Taking this time to observe, Jeongguk remains quiet as Park pull out of the lot. The Detective remained watching the road, glancing in the rearview mirror every ten to fifteen seconds, hands tight around the wheel.
Eyes trailing to the seat where the Detective had thrown his badge, he squints to try and read the small writing better.
Park Jimin. Detective, Headquarters Seoul.
“Your name is Jimin.”
Park- no, Jimin, he corrected- jolted visibly. His eyes jerked to the mirror, staring into Jeongguk’s eyes with clear bewilderment. A slow smirk curls at his lips. Got him.
“You left your badge and ID open, Jimin-ssi.”
His eyes threw daggers at him through the mirror. If a glare could murder a man, Jeongguk was pretty sure he would have been burned alive by the ferocity of that stare. “Do not call me that.”
“Call you what? Jimin-ssi?” Jeongguk grinned a bit wider at seeing his hands tighten on the wheel. He was touching on a nerve. Might as well fucking rut against it, then. “Jimin-ssi.”
“I swear to God, I will pull over and taser your cocky ass into the next fucking century, kid. Do not try me,” Jimin warns through clenched teeth. “I am Detective Park.”
Jeongguk moans loudly, wiggling his hips. “You’re getting me all hot and bothered when you act all high and mighty, Jimin-ssi. I might come untouched if you keep this up. You remember my safe word, don’t you?”
Jimin’s face scrunches, nose wrinkling. “You’re disgusting.”
“No, I’m horny and handcuffed.”
Rolling his eyes, the Detective focus back on the road. “So, you know my name. But I don’t know yours.” Dark eyes flicker to the mirror. “You’re going to have to tell me one of these days. Better sooner rather than later.”
“Later, then.” Jeongguk turns his head to scowl out the window. Jimin actually scoffs out a disbelieving sound but doesn’t protest. “How’d you catch me anyways, Jimin-ssi? It was you, wasn’t it?”
“It was me. I was leading the case.” Jimin’s lips twitch into a smirk. “I’ll tell you if you tell me how you learned parkour. That’s a military technique. Rare in Korea. What gives?”
Jeongguk chews on the inside of his cheek. He debated on whether the piece of information was viable enough to give away. It wasn’t nearly as damning as a name- names have power. At least in the criminal world.
“I’m a professional hacker. I have hacked into US Military files and seen the basics of parkour training, regimens, and whatnot. Plus, who said I have been in Korea for a while?” He cranes his head, casting a sly glance towards the Detective. “There. Your turn.”
“What, you just watched a few videos, read the training protocols, and boom? You Parkour like a fucking athlete?”
Jeongguk shrugs. Or, well, as best he can in his handcuffs. “In case you haven’t noticed, Jimin-ssi, I am an athlete.” He pauses, grunting in his throat. “And no. I don’t just read them. I work at them. Like any normal person. Practice makes perfect, or whatever. Your turn.”
Jimin drums his fingers against the wheel to a tune that sounded suspiciously like TWICE or some other girl group. He looks calm and collected, but Jeongguk notes the flare of his nose or the way his bottom lip was red from abuse.
“I studied you.”
Jeongguk blinks. “Come again?”
A sigh was heard. “I studied you. Your case. Similarities. Frequents. Tricks you’ve used more than once. Some videos of you from when cameras catch you.” His slender shoulders go up and down, but his eyes don’t waver from the road. “I learned about you from other officers. Learned that you’re an escape artist, things you’ve done to escape. Things of that nature.”
Jeongguk mulls it over. Smacks his lips. “So. You stalked me.”
Jimin balks. “I did not!”
“You totally stalked me.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “And you think I’m disgusting. Pervert.”
“You- you’re unbelievable,” Jimin states shrilly, staring at him as they stop at a red light. “I am not a fucking pervert. You’re the criminal at age fifteen! And you’re hitting on me so what does that make you?”
“First of all,” Jeongguk drawls, “not fifteen.” Jimin huffs. “Second of all, you’re totally a stalker. You’ve been watching me. Talking about me. Stalker.”
“I’m literally a police Detective?”
“Semantics. Stalker.”
Jimin heaves a heavy sigh, giving gas to the car as the light turns green. “I take it back. Your actually thirteen.”
“You wish. Pervert stalker.”
“I am done talking to you,” Jimin grunts.
Jeongguk gives another half-assed shrug and returns to staring out the window. His brain was running a mile a minute. He knew that his file was still in the system. Jeon Jeongguk was still in the police records, he knew that.
How could he avoid getting his prints taken? He could always hack in later, when he got access to a computer, and remove himself completely. Sure, it could cause some problems later, but better than being locked in a prison.
Athlete, yes. Hacker, oh, for sure. Fighter, yep. Jail food? Yeah, no. Hard pass.
He would have to find a way to get word to Taehyung. Get him out. It would be hard, but if anyone could do it, that smooth fucker would be the one. And tell him to not tell his brother about this.
Ever.
Jeongguk nods to himself. Good plan. Solid plan.
“Carrots.” Jeongguk scowls, jerking his head towards the smirking handsome Detective. “We’re here. Let’s hop.”
“You’re going to continue using rabbit jokes, aren’t you?” Jeongguk wonders drily.
“You going to keep calling me “Jimin-ssi”?”
“Oh, for sure.”
“Then, yes, Bugs Bunny,” Jimin agrees easily, sliding out of the car with grace that Jeongguk was mildly offended from. “Rabbit jokes all the way.”
“Yay me,” he deadpans.
Hauling himself out of the car, Jimin’s grip tighter than honestly needed, Jeongguk scans the surrounding area. It was the biggest police station in Seoul, off of Sinchon. He cursed in his head.
This would not end well.
Well, fuck me with a lunchbox and lick me sideways.
The building was stories high, columns and fancy marble that made it look like some Greek remake, but Korean. Its doors were wooden, carved nicely, and the inside just as nice if it wasn’t for the bustling of officers, phones ringing off the hook, and shouting.
Jeongguk flinches. Noise was never really his thing. He liked being alone, and not having so many people around and shouting when they were literally in the same room, Jesus Christ.
The Detective jerks his arm, shoving him forwards. “Hey!”
“Keep hopping along, Baby Bunny.”
“Not a baby,” he seethes, but is pushed towards the staircase.
Having no choice but to follow, Jeongguk trails behind and keeps his head down. A few people greeted Jimin, patting his shoulder, ruffling his hair, or even shouting congrats and asking who is this runt?
Needless to say, Jeongguk was about ready to sucker punch the next one who dare even breath in his general direction straight in the voice box. See who is the runt, then.
He never got the chance to act out his violent wishes, however, when he is brought to the back of the second floor and shoved into a chair, cuffs clipped against a metal bar against the desk.
The glare he sent the device was withering.
At least the second floor was quieter. All desks and cubicles. A few late-night Detectives linger around the floor, most staring blankly into space wishing they were in bed or drunk or fucking their wives.
“Comfy. Very nice use of space, might I say,” Jeongguk says listlessly, glancing around the room. He notes two exits. An elevator, back right. The staircase. He turns back towards Jimin, who settles into his office chair and faces his computer. “So, Jimin-ssi. What now?”
“Now, we get to play twenty questions,” Jimin quips, “me first. Name?”
“Velveteen.”
Jimin grits his teeth. “Name.”
“According to you, Bugs Bunny. Carrots, when you’re pissed or irritated.”
Jeongguk met Jimin’s irate stare evenly, leaning back in his chair and clanging his handcuffs against the metal bar repeatedly. If there was one thing that Jeongguk could do, it was drive people nuts.
He had been doing it since he was two.
Jimin’s brow ticked, plush pink lips turning white as they formed a straight line. “Look, Carrots- “
“See? Irritated.”
Jimin’s glare turns blizzard cold. “I fucking mean it. Listen up, you brat. You are under arrest. Do you understand that? You’re going jail. You have been caught, red-handed, robbing a bank. A Korean National Bank.”
“What? Nooooo. I was in a bank?” Jeongguk gasps dramatically, handcuffs hitting each other as he uses his hand to cover his mouth. “I was merely looking for the bathroom, Jimin-ssi.”
Skin hitting wood reverberated throughout the room. Jeongguk remained still, face carefully blank despite the way his heart stopped for a brief moment at the sharp sound. A few Detectives paused in their chatter, glancing towards the desk, but quickly went back to their discussions.
“Do you think this a game? Do you think you know the rules to play it, if it is?” Jimin hisses lowly. His eyes bore holes into Jeongguk, who fought to keep himself steady. For a flash, he felt a tendril of true fear. “You won’t win this with that shit-eating grin and sarcasm. You’re a wanted criminal. You were one heist away from being under National watch, do you understand that?”
“Look, Jimin-ssi.” Jimin’s growls low at the name, but Jeongguk ignores it. “I’ve been playing this game since I was fifteen. I don’t follow the rules. I create them. Pry all you want. I won’t tell you shit.”
Jimin drums his dull nails against the wooden desk. He was staring at Jeongguk with an unreadable expression. He looked beyond exhausted. Sterling silver hair messy, dark circles peeking out from his fading foundation.
“You are only going to make this worse for yourself, you know,” Jimin finally states calmly, the drumming suddenly stopping. He leans forward, elbows on the table. “Please, Velveteen. What is your real name?”
Jeongguk only shakes his head. “I want a lawyer.”
Heaving a heavy sigh, Jimin leans back and cracks his knuckles. “I see. Fine. We are at an impasse. For now.” Pushing himself to his feet, Jimin cracks his neck. “I’ll return with your name, birth year, and all the crimes you’ve been connected to. Think about it, Carrots.”
Striding away with that annoying sway to his hips, Jeongguk glares after him. Even when his stomach swirled in his gut, churning in warning, and realizing just how much trouble he was in.
Groaning, Jeongguk shoves his face in his hands. He tore at his black hair and yanked a bit at the roots. His tattooed fingers, roman numerals stamped in bold black ink along the side of his middle finger, and a bar code on his index, twitched.
“I really want that cigarette about now.”
After almost twenty minutes had passed of Jeongguk glaring at his handcuffs, picking the dirt under his nails, and bouncing his leg, Jimin returned.
“Jeon Jeongguk. 24 years old. Born in Mandeok-dong, Busan. Son to a Min Gichul and a Jeon Jiyoon.” Jeongguk jumped at the sound of his name falling from plush lips, glaring as Jimin rounds the desk, plopping his chair. “You had quite the list. Since you were fifteen.”
Jeongguk glares. “Congrats. You found out my name. Did you want a standing ovation, or…?”
Jimin’s plastic smile tightens. “No.”
“Great, cause, well, handcuffs are a bitch.” Jeongguk tugs at his earrings. “What is it you want?”
“I am here to tell you what’s going to be happening,” the Detective says, hands folding over each other in front of him and resting on the desk. “In a couple of hours, you will be meeting with you attorney, then settled in for questioning, prints, and a lovely selfie. You will then be transferred to jail until your court date is booked, which should be in about 48 to 72 hours. Then, poof. Like magic your new life behind bars will begin.”
Jeongguk licks his lips. “Really, now? Fascinating. Are we done, then?”
The Detective briefly looks like he wants to say something, but keeps his mouth shut as he moves to stand. Jeongguk watches him tiredly, not even bothering to try and protest as Jimin moves to unclick the handcuffs.
“Park? The hell you are doing with Jeon Jeongguk?”
Jeongguk tenses. “Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.”
He knew that voice. The deep gravel that slurs and pouts with each sleepy syllable, a hint of Daegu dialect tinges the edges around the pristine, practiced Seoul.
Jimin peeks up through his long lashes, blinking slightly as a shadow approaches the desk. “Detective Min, hi. You’re here… early.”
“Heard you caught the Velveteen and wanted to slip over and congratulate you. Well, and be nosey,” Min Yoongi grunts, booted foot hitting Jeongguk’s chair. “Instead, I see this familiar brat.”
“Fuck off, Yoongles,” Jeongguk sneers, craning his to glare up at the older man.
Min Yoongi hadn’t changed much in the last 8 years. A bit more well-defined, a little more tired, and skin still paler than any Korean he knew. Korea’s only vampire, it seems. He was still on the smaller side, frame petite, but his hands were large and veiny as the grasped onto his coffee.
Which was probably more sugar than coffee, not that Yoongi would ever admit that.
His thick black hair fell over his oval shaped face, thinner cheeks than when he was younger, and dressed in simple black skinnies, boots, a black hoodie.
Yoongi kicks his chair harder. “That’s hyung to you, you brat,” he corrects. Jeongguk rolls his eyes, looking away. “What has this shit done now?”
Jimin cocks his head curiously. “You know Jeon Jeongguk, sir?”
“Of course, I do. He’s my baby brother.”
“Half,” Jeongguk corrects snidely. “And I am not a baby.”
Yoongi ignores him, keeping his stare level with Jimin as the younger Detective flounders for a moment. He looks between Jeongguk’s enraged, tired scowl, then towards the sleepy, irate look on the older Detective.
He clears his throat. “Jeon Jeongguk is Velveteen Rabbit.”
Yoongi blinks. “He is who now?”
Jeongguk snorts, shaking his head. “What’s the matter, Yoongles? Surprised?” He arches a little brow as Yoongi stares at him in bewilderment. “Now, lovely reunion this has been, but I can’t be late for that appointment with my cell. Tootles!”
Rolling his eyes, Jimin jerks Jeongguk to his feet. Following in his eagerness to escape from Yoongi, he wasn’t expecting Yoongi to reach out and snag his arm, pulling him to a stop. He groans, throwing back his head.
“Look, hyung, I’m tired. My heist got busted, I’m exhausted, I want a fucking nap. Maybe a cigarette or two,” Jeongguk snaps, tugging his arm away. “Please kindly fuck off like you have the last, say, eight years.”
“Jeongguk-ah, please tell me this is a misunderstanding. You’re not Velveteen, right?” Yoongi grunts, cat-eyes searching his features.
“Didn’t you hear, hyung? I merely searching for the bathroom!” he says, blinking his doe-eyes innocently, then dropping the expression. “I am not saying anything, but since when do you care? Look at you. All police certified. Good paycheck and your own little cubicle. It’s nice, hyung. Who cares about me, right? Dad certainly didn’t.”
Yoongi’s eyes harden. “This isn’t about that. This is about the fact you’re a wanted criminal.”
“Not all of us can be Min Yoongi, now can they?” Jeongguk hums, turning his attention towards Jimin. He tugs his handcuffs. “Let’s go, short-stuff.”
This time Yoongi doesn’t stop them. Merely watches as Jimin leads him into the back and into his very own little jail cell. He instantly collapses against the thin bed, grimacing at the scratchy sheets.
The door clangs shut. “Goodnight, Jimin-ssi.”
A sigh is heard, and no other answer other than the sound of his boots walking away. And then Jeongguk is alone.
Rolling onto his side, tucking his hands underneath, Jeongguk closes his eyes and wills his body to sleep. He was glad he mastered the trick of being able to sleep anywhere, anytime. He needed a few hours of shut eye. Re-plan.
Seeing his brother as a Detective certainly ruins a few things. It is going to be harder than he thought for either his escape, or his bail. The attorney is a means to an end, but otherwise a moot point.
For now, he needs to sleep.
*****
Park Jimin groans as he sits back at his desk. His muscles were aching from his sprint after Jeon Jeongguk, and coffee was beginning to replace the blood in his veins. He was sure he resembles a zombie more than a person, but damn if he wasn’t pleased that he finally got the Velveteen.
Even if it was someone he had never expected.
Velveteen has been a thorn in Seoul’s side for years. Crimes enough on a large-enough scale to make him well-known, but never enough to be a major priority in comparison.
Add in the mask, the theatrics, and boom. A public menace without actually trying.
Everyone had been guessing on who the Velveteen actually is. Everyone has been saying it must be someone older; experienced. Considering he is a world-class hacker, and parkour, they even guessed a military brat.
Foreign, perhaps.
Jimin will never forget the way his heart stopped as he took off the mask of the white rabbit, staring into a pair of large brown eyes that could probably stop traffic if you used correctly. Youthful face, pierced brow, and ears lined in piercings as well.
He never expected such a youthful face staring back at him. Smooth, tawny skin, well-defined body thick with muscles that rippled under the leather jacket and thicker thighs from constantly working out and parkour.
High cheekbones, pretty pink lips that were thin, but suited his face. Big nose that wiggles when irritated, a freckle hidden under his bottom lip, and bigger front teeth that chewed on his bottom lip.
How could that be Velveteen?
Well, his attitude certainly matched. Just thinking about his smug comments was enough to make Jimin’s blood boil in his veins and anger to fester in his gut like an open wound.
He was eager to throw Jeongguk in the slammer. The little prick deserves it, considering how condescending and cheeky the piece of shit was. Jimin has been fighting against assholes like him almost all of his career, and it was him that caught him.
So, yes, there was a hell of a lot of satisfaction as Jimin goes through the motions of paperwork, getting together his file, gathering evidence of everything he has done, and making sure it was all in order.
“Detective Park.”
Glancing up, Jimin pauses in his typing as he catches sight of the Captain of the Sinchon police precinct standing in front of his desk. His hazel hair was brushed back, off of his face, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and his suit and tie pressed nicely.
“Captain,” Jimin says, standing and bowing. “Good morning.”
“Have you been here all night?” he wonders, eyeing the multiple coffee mugs lining his desk that was usually more kept than now.
“Um, what time is it?”
“A little past eight in the morning,” Kim Namjoon replies kindly.
Jimin flinches, shifting his weight. “Ah, well, then. Yes. I have been here all night gathering up data for the Velveteen case.” He gathers the thick binder, smiles, and holds it out. Namjoon takes it, flipping through it. “I have pretty much everything together. He is in cell four, currently, and ready for questioning. His attorney has been ordered already.”
“I see. Well, shall we bring him to the questioning table?” Namjoon asks, closing the binder and handing it back. Jimin nods once. “Also, I hope you don’t mind, but I was wondering if I could take the lead on this.”
Jimin hesitates. “Of course, sir. But I do have it handled.”
Namjoon instantly nods. “Yes, of course, you do, Park. You may be a rookie to this precinct, but your files and accomplishments from Busan outweigh that,” he agrees knowingly, dimples flashing from his smile. Jimin settles. “This isn’t about any of that. Merely… I have some questions of my own for him.”
“Oh, I see!” Jimin chirps, nodding his head. “Well, I will go get him and bring him to the table. His attorney will be around shortly.”
“Great. Thank you, Detective.”
Bowing his head, Jimin scurries off towards the jail cell.
Jeongguk was exactly where he had left him, curled up on his cot, hand squished under his cheek, and eyes closed as he slept. His raven hair messy and slightly greasy, body trying to make it seem smaller than it was.
He bangs his binder against the bars. He smirks as Jeongguk scrambles awake, nearly tumbling off his cot in his haste to jerk around with large eyes and locking on Jimin’s frame from behind the bars.
Jeongguk glowers. “That’s just cold, Jimin-ssi. A man is trying to get some beauty sleep and you come banging. Next time try kissing me awake. I’m a lot more agreeable.”
“There won’t be a next time, Bugs Bunny.” Grabbing the keys, he dangles it. “Stand up, hands where I can see them, and face the wall.”
“So, demanding, baby. Makes me feel all tingly.” Jeongguk obeys, stumbling slightly from sleep but does as he is told. “What now? More handcuffs? So early too.”
Ignoring the snide remarks, Jimin enters the cell, grabs his wrists, and locks the handcuffs on. Jeongguk just remains pliant, letting the Detective drag him from the cell and through the corridors.
“So, Jimin-ssi, think you can hook me up? Some coffee, a cigarette, or somethin’?” Jeongguk slurs, eyes hooded and face puffy. Jimin hated the fact he looks somewhat charming with a languid grin on his face, nose scrunched. “Hungry.”
“I think I like you better when you’re still half-asleep. You’re less annoying,” Jimin mutters, shoving him into the closed off questioning room.
Jeongguk stumbles, barely managing to catch himself with a whine.
“Mean,” Jeongguk breathes, grunting as he is forced in the chair, hands brought to the front, and clicked back to the metal in front of him. He pouts at it, tugging experimentally at the metal. “Already tying me back up. You are something else, Jimin-ssi.”
“Detective Park,” Jimin corrects, striding towards the other end of the room and leaning against the wall. “That’s my name to you. Detective Park. I worked my ass for that title; you will use it.”
Jeongguk smacks his lips, yawning, and then looking around the room. “Hm, pass. Jimin-ssi is more fun. It makes you angry. I like it.”
“Jeongguk-ssi, I mean it.”
“Jimin-ssi, so do I,” he rebukes, dark eyes flickering briefly towards Jimin’s face and that familiar cocky smirk curling at his thin lips. “Is there where I am ‘ppose to confess?”
“It’s where you’re going to be questioned, yes.”
Jeongguk nods, metal clanging in a steady rhythm. “Right. Let’s see… when I was five years old, I stole some kid’s toy train. He cried for ages, so I told him to stop being a baby.” Jimin scowls. “There was also that time when I was, like, fourteen, and I wanted to kiss a girl, but I got too shy to ask, so I ended up running into a wall. That sucked.”
“That’s not the kind of confession we want, Carrots.”
“Oh, but I am irritating you, so I say I’m on the right track!” Jeongguk chirps, wiggling in his chair like a gleeful, tired slug. “Get me a cigarette or coffee and maybe I’ll tell you something meaningful.”
“No.”
Jeongguk pouts. God, was this kid really five years old? “Fine. You’re no fun early in the morning either. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the desk.” He sniffs, then cocks his head. “Alright, how about this. Twenty questions. You answer one of mine, and I answer one of yours.”
“No.”
Jeongguk sighs. “You’re disagreeable. It’s not an attractive quality, babe.” He tilts his head, licking his lips. “Go ahead. Ask me a question. I’ll answer it. Honestly.”
Debating internally in his mind, Jimin wonders if he should actually take him up on the offer. It was the first time Jeongguk had shown any sign of wanting to cooperate, but he was also not liking the idea of answering any of his questions.
Deciding to test the theory, Jimin shrugs. “Why did you steal the train from the kid?” Surprise touches the corners of Jeongguk’s dark eyes. He blinks, mouth parting ever slightly, and Jimin felt a surge of pride that he caught the kid off guard.
“Out of all the questions to ask, you chose that one?” he asks, snickering. Jimin shrugs, then waves his hand for him to answer. Jeongguk’s nose scrunches. “He had plenty of trains. A whole set. I took one, let Yoongi have it since he liked trains, but didn’t have one.”
Interest sparks in Jimin’s mind. The fact that Jeongguk didn’t steal the train for himself was an itch in the back of his mind. It was actually uncommon of a five-year-old to give up a toy so easily, but Jeongguk even stole the toy for his brother.
Half.
He files this information away for later, just in case he needs to touch further into Jeongguk to understand him. Not that he did understand him. The kid was a criminal, a thief and a bad person.
“My turn,” Jeongguk continues, “how old are you, Jimin-ssi?”
“Older than you,” he deflects, eyes flickering away.
Jeongguk clicks his tongue, eyes narrowing. “That is not the way this works, Jimin-ssi. I answered you honestly. Do your part.”
Sighing, Jimin rubs his temple. “I’m 26.” Jeongguk hums, nodding with a pleased expression on his face and settles back in his chair. “My turn. Is Yoongi really your brother?”
“You suck at this game,” Jeongguk muses tiredly. “But, yes. He is. Half, anyways. Why do you care?”
“He just- never mentioned you,” he admits quietly.
“Shocking,” Jeongguk deadpans. Before either one of them could continue, the door opens and Namjoon and Yoongi step inside. Jeongguk scowls at seeing the familiar face, then schools it just as quickly. “Game over.”
“Good morning, Jeongguk-ssi,” Namjoon says kindly, striding over and settling into the chair across from Jeongguk. Yoongi eyes his brother, who pointedly ignores him, and joins Jimin’s side behind Namjoon. “I trust your accommodations were acceptable?”
Jeongguk shrugs, cuffs rattling. “Very cell-like.”
“Wonderful,” Namjoon breezes, opening Jeongguk’s file but never once glancing at it. “Your name is Jeon Jeongguk, correct?”
“No, it’s Justin Seagull. Caw, caw,” he rumbles blandly.
Yoongi’s brow ticks, mouth curled downwards, but he doesn’t say anything. Namjoon only nods simply, hands folding over themselves and smiling his dimpled smile. “My name is Kim Namjoon. I am the Captain of this precinct. I have heard a lot about you and Velveteen.”
“Congrats.”
“We are here to question you today, but this line of questioning right now will not require your attorney, who is waiting outside. I merely wish to speak to you, is that okay, Jeongguk-ssi?” Namjoon continues calmly, professionally.
Jeongguk tugs a bit harder at his chains. “Well, I certainly am not going anywhere, now am I, sir? Might as well.”
“Jeongguk-ah, please,” Yoongi hisses through clenched teeth.
“Detective Min, please wait outside,” Namjoon says. Yoongi balks, looking like he wants to protest, but Jimin nudges his arm. Grunting, the Detective slips out of the room. Jeongguk doesn’t glance at him. “I understand that Min Yoongi is a relative of yours?”
Jeongguk’s smile is all syrup. “Something of that nature.” He gestures vaguely. “Ask away, Captain, oh my Captain.”
“Are you aware of the criminal activity that is basing around an alias of Hitman Bang?” Namjoon questions simply.
Jimin blinks as he watches Jeongguk go still at the mention of the name, nose wiggling subtlety.
“Is there anyone who doesn’t know that name?” Jeongguk rebukes airily, head cocking to the side. “Why are you asking me to begin with?”
“Because you have quite the toe over these lines. Never going far enough as murder, or rape, but nothing as simple as assault or petty thievery. Honor amongst criminals,” Namjoon states, leaning back in his chair. “You’re big enough to be known, but not as cold-hearted as some of the others. So, perhaps you know some things.”
“And what if I do?” Jeongguk asks vaguely. “No offense, Cap, but even if I do know things, or hear whispers in my line of work, why in God’s name would I tell you shit? Seems rather damning to me.”
“Excellent point,” the captain concedes, nodding his head. “Which is why I am asking you; Do you know something of value to us?”
Jeongguk is quiet. Jimin watches as his eyes examine Namjoon’s face. Eyes his features, the glasses, the tick to his jaw, and the lack of tension within his posture. A picture of ease, and face nothing but genuine honesty.
Tattooed fingers scratch at the wood of the table.
“I’ve heard things. Rumors. Whispers on the wind, passed along.” He tilts his head. “Know some people, as all people in my line of work do.” His smile his humorless. “Why? Gonna be added to my sentencing.”
Namjoon shakes his head. “No. The opposite, really.”
“Oh?”
“I am here to offer you a once in a lifetime deal, Jeongguk-ssi,” Namjoon starts. Jimin tenses, cutting the captain a sharp look that he doesn’t notice. “You’re in a lot of trouble with the law. I am sure you understand that. But you also may be our only ticket to catching Hitman Bang.”
Jeongguk’s eyes narrow into slits. “What of it?”
“I want you to help us. I am offering you to be let off of jail time, and instead, a complete reformation. No jail time, but instead, you will have to attend a therapist, join the police force, complete training, and help us catch the most notorious crime lord.”
Jimin balks, stepping forward as anger burns hot in his gut. “Captain! You can’t be serious? He is a fucking criminal, who was caught for so much shit, and you’re just going to let him off?”
Namjoon turns his head, gaze hard. “Detective Park, I need you to calm down and carefully consider how you plan to proceed,” he says sternly. Jimin froze, heart hammering. “I will not tolerate being yelled at by my subordinate. Do you understand me?”
“I- I apologize, sir,” Jimin grunts, bowing his head and stepping back despite how much strength it took to do so. “I did not mean to offend.”
“You will never question my authority again, Park Jimin. This has been your warning.” Namjoon faces the blank-faced Jeongguk. “Of course, this will not be easy. It’s not all peaches and cream. You will have to wear an ankle tracker, and you won’t have it removed until you have completed police training which will not be until after you help us catch Hitman Bang. You will become a full police officer, under my direct care, and monitored frequently.”
Silence filters throughout the room. Jimin watches Jeongguk’s face; the sudden grey undertone to his skin, the chapped lips, and dark eyes wry as they flicker uneasily around the room before returning to Namjoon.
“Pardon, but are you fucking nuts?” Jeongguk finally blurts, collapsing against his chair and staring at Namjoon with a baffled look.
Jimin almost chokes on his own spit, barely managing to rein in his choked sound in his throat. Namjoon, however, only smiles a bit wider.
“Maybe a bit. But, do tell, what makes you think I am crazy?”
“You think I would subject myself to you and this hall of the law as a get-out-of-jail free card?” he questions, voice fragments of shrapnel. “If I joined you, they would kill me. Hunt me down, slaughter me in my sleep with my own intestines. Why would I do that to myself? You don’t fucking know me, Cap, and you reading my file isn’t going to tell you jack.”
Using his foot, Jeongguk kicks the chair nearest to him so it slams up against the wall. Namjoon barely flinches, but Jimin ducks his head at the sound of metal against metal on his ear and the dull ringing that follows.
“You’re right. I don’t know you, Jeongguk-ssi. Merely that your brother told me that you were a good kid. Just confused, that this is all a misunderstanding. He helped stand in front of a court and jury to fight for this right to keep you out of jail and instead start anew,” Namjoon states calmly. Jeongguk looks bewildered. “If it was up to Detective Park, or even me, you would be in jail right now without even a court ruling.”
“Then fucking do it, Captain. I won’t do it. I can’t.”
“And why not?” Namjoon questions, the gentle tone wavering to a harder one. Granite. Jeongguk grits his jaw, turning his face away. “Don’t fuck up your life, kid. This is a chance to get away from the life you’re leading.”
“I never had a problem with the life I lived,” Jeongguk snaps, handcuffs clanging loudly. “You all spout bullshit about justice, and equality, and it’s nothing but fucking bullshit. I won’t have any part of it. Any part of what you call “justice”. You don’t protect the people. You don’t even fucking look at them, you sack of shit. Toss me in a jail cell and be done with it. Captain.”
Jimin’s gut clenches at the way Jeongguk glares down at the table, face twisted with raw anger and hands shaking on the table. Namjoon stares at him for a drawn-out moment, sighs, and stands.
“Park, please escort Jeongguk back to his cell. We will proceed with usual procedure in a couple of hours. Make sure he has food and access to a shower before he meets with his attorney. I’ll schedule his hearing.”
“I- yes, sir,” Jimin says, bowing his head.
“Good day, Jeongguk-ssi.”
“Fuck you,” he seethes through clenched teeth.
Jimin winces, watching as Namjoon nods once and exits the room in a few strides of his long legs. For a moment, neither one of them speak until Jeongguk raises his head and locks his eyes on Jimin.
“Well, Jimin-ssi, looks like you get your wish. Congrats. You caught the rascally rabbit,” he says dully, holding up his chained wrists and smile clipped. “I would like my phone call, as well. Got some groveling to do before I’m shipped off.”
Jimin sighs, walking over and unlatching him. Jeongguk doesn’t fight it. He resembled more of a ragdoll, just letting Jimin do as he wishes as they start their journey back towards the cells.
“Why didn’t you do it?” Jimin whispers, side eyeing the younger man.
“What? Take my death sentence?”
“It was a genuine offer,” Jimin corrects sharply. Jeongguk snorts. “You could have a new life! No criminal ever gets off like that, and you could have- “
“Could have what, Princess of Justice?” Jeongguk interjects coldly, halting his steps to glare heavily towards Jimin. “Joined you and your Scooby gang to follow the clues and catch the bad guys? Been constantly monitored, watched, as I hunt down innocent people, or join in your sick idea of justice? Sweetheart, don’t tell me you really believe this system saves people.”
Jimin blinks. “Of course, it does! That’s why it’s here.”
Jeongguk chuckles drily. “No, Jimin-ssi. It’s here to give an idea of justice. Everyday killers are let loose back onto the streets, or lawyers paid off to overlook crimes, and yet some poor girl who is raped, what about her? Some asshole with a tiny dick and something to prove because he is so great gets let off. Who cares about her? Or the guy who kills someone who had stolen a life. Or tried to steal his own. What about justice for them?”
“I- but that’s…”
“Different, right? Don’t worry, babe. I heard it all before,” Jeongguk concludes, shrugging. “I’m done chatting. I want to sleep now.”
Jimin continues leading to him to his cell, goes through the motions of unlocking his handcuffs. “Look, I don’t like you. You’re the biggest asshole I have ever met, and in my line of work that is damn right impressive, but I think you’re being stupid not taking the deal.”
Jeongguk rubs his wrists absently, settling on his cot and glancing up through his raven fringe. “Do you, now? Duly noted. I’ll be sure to inform my secretary of such grievances.”
Glaring, Jimin swings the cell door closed. “I’ll have someone get you for your phone call, then.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
*****
“Your phone call is ready.”
Jeongguk looks up from what is supposed to be an egg sandwich of some sort, but it taste is unsalted and bland. A bit soggy. Too cold.
However, seeing his half-brother’s face made it even harder to keep in his belly when Yoongi was staring at him like he was trying to piece together when everything went wrong for poor little Jeongguk.
“The food tastes like shit,” Jeongguk remarks, staring down at his half-eaten soggy sandwich with a grimace. “I want to send a complaint to HR.”
Yoongi sighs. “Eight years later and you’re still as sarcastic as ever.” He jerks his chin over his shoulder. “You know the drill.”
“Incest is illegal. A little disturbing, if I may add.”
“Jeongguk. I am not playing with you today,” Yoongi growls, hands fisting by his sides. Jeongguk shrugs absently but stands and follows procedure. The cell unlocks. “You didn’t take the deal.”
“Nope.”
Yoongi slaps cuffs on his wrists, looser than Jimin did, but still enough that he winces at the ache and phantom itches it leaves along the flesh.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Reasons.” Jeongguk cuts a look over his shoulder, smirking weakly at the sulky expression over his brother’s face. “D’aw. You care!”
“I always cared,” Yoongi grunts, shoving him forwards. Jeongguk walks slowly, remaining near Yoongi’s side even though he was wishing he could just book it. He wouldn’t make it, of course, but it was always nice to think about.
“Sure, you did. If that’s what you need to hear to feel less guilty at night so you can sleep, have at it. I won’t ruin it for you,” Jeongguk replies, shrugging.
Yoongi shoves him on a chair, crossing his arms over his chest as pointedly looks at the ancient landline on the desk. The only thing on the desk.
Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk leans over and plugs in the number he has memorized and waits as the dial tone starts. His leg was bouncing unconsciously with each ring, anxiety spiking. Where the hell was the bastard?
“Mario’s Pizzeria and Abortion clinic where your loss is our sauce, this is Van Gogh, how may I help you?”
Jeongguk’s hand tightens on the phone at the familiar deep timbre that was chipper and bright on the other line, and snorts at the greeting. “It’s me.”
The line crackles. “Bun. This isn’t your number,” V comments airily, though there was a lingering hint of suspicion touching the tone.
“Needed a change of tune,” Jeongguk states casually, leaning back in his chair. He could V take a sharp inhale on the other line, their code-phrase not alerting Yoongi who was listening intently. “I’m closing up shop. Think you can handle it?”
“Hm,” V drawls slowly, nails tapping against the receiver. “Consider it closed.” There was a drawn-out pause. “Did something happen?”
Jeongguk flickers his eyes towards Yoongi, who raises his brows back towards Jeongguk with a pursed mouth. Returning his stare to straight ahead, he sighs low. “Caught in a rabbit trap. Got offered a deal. Turned it down.”
V hisses. “What deal?”
“Join ‘em to track the streets or hike it to the castle.”
Another length of silence. Yoongi was frowning, adjusting the headphones and casting a warning glare towards Jeongguk, but he only winks and looks away as he waits for what he was sure was coming.
“Take it.”
Jeongguk blanches visibly. “What? No. I am not taking it.”
“I mean it. I don’t care what your main malfunction is about it,” V snaps harshly into the voice, deep voice taking on a lower octave. “Take it. Square up, if you need to. Castle is no place for you, Bun. You’ll be eaten alive.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy,” Jeongguk bites out through gritted teeth. “Feeling the love here.”
“Get over yourself,” V replies, “and take the deal. I’m not shitting with you. Take it and figure out the rest later.”
“I can’t,” Jeongguk whispers, fingers tightening until he can hear the device crack slightly at the force of his grip. He quickly loosens the hold. “I’ll be dead. If I talk, if I hunt, I’ll be dead.”
“Ask for their protection, I don’t care what you do, but fuck, Bun, if hyung catches wind that you’re on the hike, a whole new problem arises,” V grunts. “Take it. Do what they want. Be a good little bunny and avoid bars for life.”
“This is a terrible idea,” Jeongguk mutters low. Tiredly. He was exhausted. He wasn’t sure he could do this. “I fucking hate City Kitties.”
V laughs. Loud, boisterous, and full. It was a familiar sound, even if it made Jeongguk want to chuck the phone against the wall and watch it shatter to a bunch of pieces.
“I know, Bun. Don’t we all?”
“Fuck you. Don’t make me do this.”
“Do. It.” Jeongguk groans louder, ending the note on a long-drawn-out whining noise. “You overgrown man-baby. I’ll catch you on the flipside.”
The line went dead. Jeongguk stared at it blankly, already feeling Yoongi’s stare as the Detective removes the headphones and place the phone back down. Jeongguk keeps his eyes averted, lips pursed.
“Your buddy said you should take the deal,” Yoongi muses, settling on the edge of the desk.
“And?”
“Are you?”
Jeongguk wants to scream. Bounce up and down, full body tantrum, and maybe punch Park Jimin straight in the handsome face for catching him. For getting him here.
He doesn’t, of course. But damn if he doesn’t want a cigarette.
“Fine. Fucking god damn it all to hell and back. I’ll do it. I’ll take the stupid deal.”