─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

SEASON 3 EPISODE 13

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

System: Volii

Faction: Freestar Collective

Planet: Volii Alpha

Place: Neon

A/N: I'm sorry but I just gotta say that picture of Jimin is so breathtaking. Every picture of JM is, but that one made me stop and stare.

Just thought I'd share that. Anywho, enjoy the chapter.

☆☆☆

Jimin

The Crimson Fleet - Three weeks before the Legacy

"Oh, for fuck's sake... Just hold it still, Parkie!"

Jimin did his best to hold the panel open. They were on a UC ship with technician gear covering them alongside Cydonia's raging storms pounding against the windows. Cockpit windows broke in rare cases, so Jimin had no worries. No risk of decompression. Everything was sealed, giving Jimin a break from the annoying winds of Cydonia.

"Hurry up," Jimin said, watching as Hoseok hotwired the spaceship they had been sent in to "inspect." It had no relation to the Legacy, but being a pirate meant Jimin had to do side jobs to help bring credits in to the Fleet. The UC ship they were in was elite. Larger than most ships Jimin had seen (not that that was saying much). It'd bring in tens of thousands if not over a hundred thousand credits to the Fleet. Yay.

"Almost there..."

Hoseok knitted his brows and pressed his tongue against his lips as he finished splicing the wires together. Jimin had no clue what the man was doing, or how he could see through his mop of black curls covering his dark eyes. Then again, Jimin's hair didn't fare much better, with it being as long and black as Hoseok's. Well, Jimin had silver highlights. That made him cooler.

The ship clicked to life. Hoseok chuckled and slid out from under the dashboard with his heart-shaped smile and bright ass orange technician gear. He stood, ripping off the gear to reveal the crimson attire underneath it (including the scarf, of course), his combat boots squeaking against the ground as he resumed chewing his gum. He plopped in the pilot's seat and flipped switches Jimin didn't know the names of. Hoseok didn't bother buckling in, instead grabbing Jimin's hand and throwing him in the co-pilot's seat.

"Set course for Kryx. We're outta here, baby!"

Hoseok banged the metal dashboard and let out a whoop sound, practically howling like a dog while starting the engines. For Hoseok, it was just another day. For Jimin, he was about to shit himself. He had handled the stealing jobs the Fleet had given him, though shipjacking was out of his area of expertise. That meant he had sweaty hands and bulging eyes.

Yes, Hoseok made fun of him for that.

"Security will see the lights and try to stop us," Jimin said, and Hoseok clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, they can cry me a fucking river. That rich snob doesn't deserve this puppy anyway."

Hoseok snorted and took off without waiting for Jimin's response. Neither of them were buckled in, so Jimin went flying to the ground, rolling around until he hit the wall. Somehow, Hoseok stayed seated and laughed at Jimin's expense and probable head injury from hitting the wall so hard.

Jimin groaned and could barely hear Hoseok's joy over the rumbling, vibrating engines that numbed all his senses until they made it to space. The stars surrounded them, and UC security ships locked their weapons on them right away.

"Get us out of here, Parkie!"

Jimin grunted and trudged back to his seat, mapping out the course for Kryx just as the UC opened fire. The ship bumped and banged from the lasers making contact with their hull, but Jimin was faster. Being Y/n's co-pilot for so long gave him the experience needed to course out jumps in seconds, and that was what he did. The world bended around them in a tight knot of purples and pinks, and then, they popped out the other side about five hundred meters away from the Key.

"Fuck yeah!" Hoseok slapped the metal dashboard again, his face hidden by the dim red lights every cockpit had. He jumped up, whacked Jimin's shoulder, and laughed once more, strolling out of the cockpit to inspect the rest of the vehicle.

Jimin shook his head, sighed, and got up to follow, brushing his hand by the clean walls that had no dents or signs of wear. They had been watching that "rich snob" for weeks, and Hoseok had asked Jimin to come with him on the mission. The Crimson Fleet basically owned Cydonia, so sneaking onboard was no issue, seeing as they had fake technician IDs and uniforms the ship service lead hadn't questioned.

That was why Jimin's first mission as an undercover agent had been to go to Cydonia—more pirates than anyone could count were there. Jungkook and Commander Min had been trying their best to crack down on the pirate presence there, but the Fleet were good. Too good. They hid in plain sight.

"Look at you, Parkie," Hoseok said when Jimin stepped into the bay, which was oversaturated with white. Other than their muddy footprints, of course. "Taking to shipjacking real well."

"Let's not get carried away. We haven't parked it yet."

"Ahh, you're such a buzzkill." Hoseok popped a bubble in Jimin's face before motioning to the cafeteria portion of the ship. "Why don't we raid the fridge first, eh?"

Well, Jimin couldn't say no to free food.

That led to Hoseok and Jimin finding frozen steak meals and heating them up before eating together on the floor, not caring that there were tables in the giant space.

The cafeteria was larger than the Lodge. Okay, maybe an exaggeration, but it was close. It had a high ceiling with bright lights as white as the bay, and not a single splash of color touched the place aside from the rectangular window on his right that showed the stars and pirate ships flying by. Some shot at each other for funsies, others did barrel rolls and almost crashed into the Key.

"You love your woman, don't you?" Hoseok asked out of the blue, which had Jimin freezing as he held a piece of steak up to his lips. They ate with their hands instead of using the rich ass utensils, and that meant Jimin had juice all over his fingertips. He tossed the meat in his mouth, swallowed, and licked off his hand before turning to meet Hoseok's eyes. The man had set his plate down long ago, but Jimin hadn't noticed until that moment.

"I don't know, but she means a lot to me. She's one of the only ones who gave me a fair chance."

"Ah, why am I not surprised? Let me guess: Neon traumatized ya, eh?"

"You can say that again." Jimin put the remainder of his steak down and tucked his knees against his chest instead. "But I love Neon. Weird how that works, huh?"

"That's how I feel about Del. I've known that bastard for years and hate him, but I keep crawling back." Hoseok nudged Jimin. "Same goes for you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. I hate you, but here I am, eating a steak off the floor with you. Weird how that works, huh?"

"Oh, please," Jimin said with a grunt. "Don't lie: you're attached to me. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd rather die than lose me now."

He said it with a chuckle, but Hoseok didn't return it. Instead, the man stared at Jimin, his gaze unchanging. It didn't falter once. No frowns, no smiles, no humor. Just Hoseok peering at Jimin. Maybe Jimin was overtired from a long month of finding artifacts and superpowers, but he swore he saw Hoseok scoot closer by a hair.

"Whatever." Hoseok returned Jimin's grunt and averted his eyes. "That wasn't my point."

"Then what was?"

"My point was it's rare you find love, Parkie." Hoseok trailed off, his eyes flickering over Jimin's face before he cleared his throat and leaned back. "So when you do, fight for it."

"Since when does Jung Hoseok give advice? You're not a therapist."

"Shut up." Hoseok punched Jimin's shoulder to get him to shush. "Please just fight for your love, Parkie. The last time I fell in love, I didn't fight for it hard enough. So do anything for her, you hear me?"

Jimin didn't know why Hoseok wasn't joking around, blowing his gum (that he did, in fact, keep in while eating steak), or rolling his eyes at everything Jimin said, but he didn't question it. It was rare to see pirates doing anything other than smuggling, stealing, and killing.

"Yeah," Jimin said with a short nod. "Sure, Hobi. You mind me asking why you're telling me this? Seems a little random, bud."

"Ew. Never call me that again." Hoseok grimaced, and then peeked back at Jimin. His eyes lingered. "If you want the truth, it's because I started feeling that weak shit again."

"What? Love?"

"Yeah. Fuck me, I hate that shit." Hoseok kicked at the ground and bumped into his plate on accident. "But we can't help it. Stupid, if you ask me."

"Don't tell me you finally fell for Delgado. Took you long enough, I was wondering when-"

"No," Hoseok interrupted in a sharper tone than Jimin anticipated, his hand flying over to grab Jimin's as if that'd stop him from speaking. Jimin saw the way Hoseok averted his eyes and his breathing picked up, and Jimin stiffened at that.

"Oh," was all Jimin could manage, and Hoseok slipped his hand away.

"Yeah." Hoseok cleared his throat. "So fight for that woman, you fucking asshole."

Jimin didn't know how to respond to that. It didn't matter; Hoseok didn't give him a chance to. The man hopped up, his scarf hitting the top of Jimin's head in the process. Without a word, he walked off and left his unfinished plate of steak behind. Jimin cleaned it up in time for Hobi to dock the ship with the Key and go to the airlock with his black sea of curls bouncing on his head. Jimin got in front of him, preventing him from leaving.

"You're my best friend," Jimin said, unsure why he felt the need to tell Hobi that. He hesitated, trying to gain the will to continue. "So I'm gonna fight for you too, whether you like it or not."

Hoseok gazed at him, not speaking for a long moment. The bangs of the air conditioning were the only sounds available, but a beat later, Hoseok's sharp breath disrupted it. The pirate stepped aside and opened the airlock.

"Let's go."

☆☆☆

The scarf didn't smell like him anymore.

Jimin held it in front of him and watched the way it flew in Neon's intense winds. Rain soaked it, and the blood that had once been stained there had disappeared long ago. In Jimin's mind, though, he could still see it. Or maybe that was just on his hands.

"I don't know what to do, bud. Sorry, but I'm never gonna stop calling you that." Jimin chuckled and brought the scarf against his chest, squeezing it tighter than needed. "But forget that. I need your help. How do I help her? How do I fight for her?"

No answer. The usual.

The stars weren't visible thanks to Neon's thick gray clouds and heavy rain clogging Jimin's eyes. The fabric blowing in the wind threatened to slip by Jimin's fingers, but he didn't dare loosen his grip, not for anything.

Jimin stood on the rooftops where he did his training, but he wore his full attire that time, not his training clothes. His jacket weighed him down. If Hoseok were there, he wondered what the man would say. Probably a scolding. Something about Jimin being too pussy-whipped. Or maybe he'd give advice. For a pirate, he had strong ideas. That was why Del had relied on him so much. Whenever they needed a task done, Hoseok had done it. Didn't matter if it was small, like pickpocketing, or stealing a whole ship.

Jimin remembered those days as if they were still around. It had taken countless months to take down the Fleet. Hell, it could have been over a year, Jimin didn't know that much. All he knew was they had given him a safe place. A safe place in arguably the deadliest system in the galaxy, where pirates shot on sight and asked questions later (if ever).

But that didn't matter. What mattered was Jung Hoseok, and how the man had used to give Jimin meals. Steaks, shitty Neon chili, hot dogs, whatever. When Jimin had slept on the Key, he had often woken up to Hoseok leaving meals on his bedside table and sneaking out, thinking Jimin didn't notice.

But that wasn't the only thing.

Hoseok had gifted Jimin ammo, alcohol, and information about the Fleet. Information like how Bog had a girlfriend who left him for a Spacer, or how Jazz rejected half the Fleet, or how Shinya pretended to marry Delgado without his knowledge only to get a real reprimanding from Delgado. Nothing important. Nothing that Jimin had to report to his superiors, yet every piece he learned felt more important than the last. It reminded him that was what family was: random moments, cooking and eating together, unserious conversations that resulted in light slaps and laughs. Jimin would do anything to laugh with the Fleet again. Or to sing one last shanty with them.

"I miss my dad," Jimin said over the storms of Neon, unsure who he was talking to. It could be the stars or Y/n. He didn't know. "He would know what to say. 'Oh, Min Min, you have to keep fighting. Be the man I know you are.' Stuff like that, I think. Or maybe I don't know dad well enough."

Jimin backed off and sighed, tying the scarf around his throat and keeping it as tight as normal. Ryujin needed him. Bayu had set up everything so the execs would be out of their offices and ready for Jimin to upload the program and find out what dirty secrets they had. The last attempt had left the program fried, so Jimin had to repair it. Spoiler alert: he couldn't. It was Nyx's design, meaning Jimin didn't understand it the same way he thought he would. Yeah, that had led to an embarrassing conversation with Nyx followed by Jimin watching the man fix it without making a peep.

Everything was ready. Jimin had little time to waste, but he spent it as much as he could. Doing his job was far from easy. It required his complete focus, otherwise his powers could betray him, not aid him. But he had a plan. Sneak in, upload the program, travel through the vents, and hand the finished program to Nyx for deciphering. No biggie.

Which was what he had said last time, too.

Jimin vacated the top of Neon and went to Ryujin's entrance instead. It took ten minutes. Thanks to training, he had grown accustomed to that walk, and he shaved off a minute each time he took it.

No one greeted him when he entered. He went to Operations and passed by Imogene, who waved to him. The only person who gave him a welcome. Maybe it was required since she was his boss, but he returned the wave nonetheless.

"Don't die in the meeting, Miss Salzo," Jimin said with a chuckle, and Imogene returned it before slowing to a stop and quirking a brow.

"You know about the meeting?"

Ah, typical Jimin. Couldn't keep his fat mouth shut.

"Of course. I'm Bayu's pet, remember? He tells me everything. Alllll your dirty secrets, like how you don't wash your hands after you use the bathroom."

"Ew," Imogene said with a gag. "I have manners, thank you."

Imogene left him be after that, and Jimin took the opportunity to dash through the area and get to the back, where Imogene's office was. She wasn't an "exec" in a traditional sense; she didn't go to all the same board meetings, though Imogene was one step down from it and was the only person in the company who was one step down from becoming an exec. That made her a person of interest for who was giving Ryujin data to their rivals. So, Bayu insisted on scouring Genie's computer, too.

Jimin went into the men's room and propped the door open with the trash can. No one was inside, as expected. The Operations floor wasn't a business floor, after all. All the operatives were out doing their jobs, leaving no one behind to chill in the lounge-like area.

Before he could begin his journey, he groaned and leaned against the cool wall, rubbing his gloved hand over his sweaty forehead. He had been sweating more than usual. His nails broke easier than before. His teeth felt weaker. Tinier. Like the rest of his body; however, he couldn't focus on that, no matter how loud the headache became.

He had a mech to earn.

In the corner, after wiping off the beads of sweat, Jimin cloaked himself, and then, he departed the bathroom so the cameras wouldn't see anything suspicious. Vents and bathrooms. The only two places without cameras, though Jimin wouldn't be surprised if Bayu had cameras hidden in the bathrooms, too.

But no matter. Jimin focused on the task at hand and entered Imogene's office, which had the door open from her leaving a minute ago. Imogene had nothing to hide, Jimin knew. The scan was a waste of time more than anything, though Jimin uploaded the program regardless and didn't care if the computer screen would look weird on camera. He doubted it. The cameras were pointed away from the computers anyway.

It took twenty seconds for the program to work its wonders. The vent above Imogene's desk was open and waiting for him, and with a grav dash, Jimin flew up to it and didn't care if his sparkles showed. As soon as he hoisted himself inside, his cloak expired and left him visible to the public. He heaved and rubbed his temple, feeling his scarf pressing against the cool metal of the vent. Jimin decided to join it by placing his forehead on the metal to calm him down. It didn't work as well as Y/n putting his hand on her heartbeat, but it would due for the time being.

Several more execs to go. Yippee.

Jimin got his big boy pants on and crawled through the vents to make it to the upper level. Two bruises and a mental rant about how he hated his life later, he managed to make it there, though he didn't want to rush in. That had him stalling and hovering in front of the opening instead of jumping down. He shut his eyes and called out with his thoughts, and the Starborn answered.

"Never happened before, remember?"

I know, but any advice? You put the wise in wiseass, after all. Jimin paused to tilt his head back and forth and picture his wife. Okay, and the ass in wiseass.

"Ew. Thanks for the compliment. About the wiseness, not the... booty."

Oh, shit. Are you Universal too? Cool, cool.

"Focus. Cloak yourself. I will lend you my strength and make it last longer, but not by much. I'm too far away to help more than that."

You can strengthen my powers?

"Yes. I am one of the three most powerful Starborn, meaning only us three can do such things. Maybe you can, too, once you go through all the trials."

Do you really want me to become one of the most powerful? If I had this mind power thingy, I'd just use it to mind-fuck my wife.

She sighed. "Do your mission."

Jimin grinned and opened his eyes, cloaking himself and jumping down. No one was around to hear the bump of his boots hitting the ground. Like the operatives, no one from the execs were there. All of them were in the meeting. Some guards patrolled, but nothing more. Nothing too close to his target.

That was the easy part: the executive floor. Everyone's offices were close, aside from Masako's and Ularu's. He'd have to use special vents to get up to theirs. Bayu had given Jimin a blueprint, and Jimin had memorized it. Photographic memory, he supposed. It was something he had gained after battling Terrormorphs and pouring over Londinion's data to locate his wife.

The will to find Y/n pushed him forward, and he located the exec offices and weaved in and out of them. The added strength from the Starborn kept him cloaked for over a minute, so he did two computers at a time until all that remained was Ularu and Masako.

A special vent awaited him in the corner of Dalton's office, in the ground that time, and he entered the room, uploading the program on Dalton's computer and getting the necessary data. But right as he went to enter the vent, black splotches filled his vision, and he groaned and hit the wall, his cloaked back hitting one of the countless monitors. Sensory overload, huh? Neon had that. Jimin was supposed to be used to it, but there he was, falling to his knees while his hands shuddered.

Damn overload.

The Starborn didn't give him a moment's rest. "You and I both know it has nothing to do with the screens, Jimin."

Jimin wished he could stiffen at that, but his body wouldn't allow it, and his cloak fizzled in and out of existence. He rolled into the vent as the cloak stopped for good. A heave left him, and it hurt, squeezing his already-shriveled lungs. More sweat dripped down his head, and his vision didn't want to focus on anything. The vent went in and out of existence, and Jimin felt like he was on another planet. Maybe Akila. Maybe Jemison. Anywhere but Neon.

When he next opened his eyes, his jacket was warm. Damp. From sweat. His, no doubt. He rubbed his forehead and sat up only to bang his head off the top of the vent and collapse again.

"Fuck," he mumbled, his bare hand going to the sore spot.

"Shh," the Starborn answered. "He'll hear you."

Who?

"Dalton."

What? He's back? No, no, that's not...

"Jimin, I'm sorry, but you passed out."

Jimin shot up, again hitting his head and falling down. He kicked at the stupid metal ground and realized he was making too much noise. Despite the buzz of the air conditioning and the countless screens going on in Dalton's office, Jimin knew the man was a security expert—he had trained, sensitive ears.

Fucking dammit.

Jimin crawled forward and tried to use his grav dash to get to the end of the vent. It didn't work. His cloak came to his mind next—why it was his second thought was beyond him. It didn't matter, though. His hand sparkled, and then, it sputtered out. Sparkles left him, and he gasped at the agony breaking through his bones. A soft whimper wrenched itself out of his parched lips, and he collapsed again. Again. Again.

Seconds ticked by. He heard footsteps above him. The vent door creaking. Jimin was still in sight. Heaves and gasps wouldn't stop parting from his lungs.

No. Y/n. My mech.

Jimin burned crimson, but it didn't help his powers. The grav dash and cloak wouldn't come to him, which meant he had one option left.

He had to do it himself.

Strength didn't rise to his heart, but desperation did, and he channeled it through every cell of his fingertips, gripping the metal with his gloved hand and sweaty one, slipping due to the moisture for a moment before propelling himself forward. He flopped and floundered, his mouth coming into contact with the bottom more than he cared to admit, and he smelled his rancid bodily fluids.

But he succeeded.

Jimin turned the corner and rolled over in time for the vent cover to peel off. A hand—Jimin's gloved one, though it didn't feel that way at first—covered his mouth to prevent his harsh breaths from coming out louder than needed. No noise except the creaking air conditioner from Dalton's office filled the cramped space. So, Jimin waited, and waited, and waited. And then...

'Clunk!'

The vent closed again, and Jimin wheezed and doubled over, coughing out a mixture of drool, mucus, and vomit. It came from both his nose and mouth, and his mind garbled out a How long was I out?, though Jimin couldn't tell if he had actually thought it or not. Or if Y/n could hear him anymore.

"Six hours."

Jimin exhausted his energy getting to the end of the vent. If he hadn't, he would have screamed. Sobbed. Maybe both, and he wouldn't let Dalton know. No, Dalton couldn't spot him. Anyone but Dalton. Dalton would see Jimin had failed again, and it'd be game over for him. No more mech. No more Y/n.

So, he couldn't stop.

Two more: Ularu and Masako. He could get away with not doing Masako, seeing as she was the CEO in on the plan. But Ularu? How would he get on her computer? Of all the execs, Ularu was the most likely to kill Jimin if he breathed in her direction. Plus, she wasn't stupid.

On the bright side, Jimin knew Ularu had a major role in the data leak, so maybe he could use that to his advantage.

Any chance I can recover this?

"I like what you're thinking about Ularu. I think she might let you do it, if you charm her."

With what? A new office pen? Y/n, Ularu doesn't care about anything other than the job. How am I supposed to charm her? She's the only one in the galaxy I can't charm.

"You'll figure something out. You're Park Jimin."

Jimin didn't disagree, though he didn't feel good about it regardless. Ugh, whatever. He had no time to dwell on that. If he wasted more time, that'd lead to no mech. No mech equaled no Y/n, and no Y/n equaled Jimin no happy. So, he willed his saliva to slither down his throat, checked on his powers to see how they were doing, and began his crawl.

His powers weren't working yet. It was the effects of withdrawal, and he knew it. It wasn't that his powers weren't working, it was his mind. It couldn't focus on the symbols, and when he tried to, they appeared blurry. Like he couldn't decide what power to use. Picturing them in his head sounded like an easy task, yet there Jimin was, making it more difficult than it needed to be.

Wonderful.

Jimin managed to get back on track by crawling up the vents and making his way to the upper level, where Masako and Ularu's offices were. At least he remembered the blueprints. That led him to Ularu, and he saw the vent remained open. No voices came to him, just the click click of her typing. Of course she wouldn't speak to herself while working. What weirdo would do that?

A cloak wouldn't save him. Ularu was at her desk, so he had no choice but to straight up ask to run the program. Dalton had said it could lead to legal issues if the execs caught them uploading strange programs onto their computers, hence why Bayu had set up the meeting. Welp, Jimin had failed. Again. At least that time he had made progress, though.

Jimin dropped into the room without bothering to cloak himself. Beneath him waited a solid floor that thumped when his combat boots made contact with it, and he saw sparkles oozing off his feet. His hair floated piece by piece, though he couldn't tell if that was real or a hallucination from the withdrawal.

Speaking of...

Ularu snapped up from her desk and said something, but Jimin didn't hear it. Instead, he wobbled and grunted as his shoulder made contact with the wall closest to him. No, his hair hadn't been floating—it stuck to his head. Okay, alright, Jimin was going fucking crazy. Well... yes, sure, he knew that already, but still.

"Fuck," he mumbled, banging his head off the wall to try and snap himself back to his senses.

The office looked black instead of the regular Ryujin red color scheme. The door opened and closed, the light flickered, and when he looked at his bare hand, he saw the skin melting off because of his solar flare. He yelped and used his gloved hand to try and swat it off, but the agony ripped through him and resulted in him hyperventilating and watching his flesh give way to bone, and the bone to atom. His hand disappeared. That was his powered hand. His powers. No, that couldn't-

'Slap!'

Ularu slapped Jimin so hard he gagged and coughed out a mixture of clumpy saliva and mucus. Both were stained purple, and he wished he could chuck the substance into a different universe. But his hand wasn't gone. It was there and as sweaty as always.

Aurora was powerful, to say the least. The hallucinations were worse when he was off it than when he was on it. Hence why he hadn't taken to it when he had tried it in his youth: the withdrawal sucked. So, he had two options: sweat it out for two weeks or so, or get back on the drugs.

Option two sounded better.

"And here I thought you were focused on saving your dear wife," Ularu said, and Jimin pushed off the wall and thought of a particle beam. He tried to shoot it at her shoulder to shut her up, but it fizzled out due to his mind refusing to let the symbol show. Ularu chuckled. "Aurora does that to you. Get used to it."

"I think I'd know that better than you, Ularu. No offense, but you aren't as trash as the rest of us Neon rats."

"No offense? You complimented me."

"I didn't mean it that way." Jimin went over and slumped down in the chair in front of Ularu's desk. He rubbed his clammy temple with his gloved hand and used his bare one to fish the program from out of his pocket and flick it her way. "Please make my life easier and upload this program so I can see what shady shit you've been up to."

"You haven't done this already?"

"No. Tried to, but security caught me."

"Wow. Maybe Genie was wrong about you." Ularu plugged the program in while sitting down, and she met his gaze. He hoped, anyway. He saw four different versions of her. "You still intend to honor our partnership?"

Jimin rolled his eyes. "Ularu, I just want my fucking mech. You're offering me it, and you're offering me it early. Yes, your majesty, I intend to honor our partnership."

Ularu didn't reply. The program ran, and it finished as fast as ever. Jimin had a feeling she had planted evidence on her computer to incriminate Genie, but meh, Jimin didn't care. Instead, once he secured the program in his pocket, he got up and went to the door, but Ularu locked it from her computer before he could depart.

"The only thing you care about is finding your wife, is that correct?" she asked, and he didn't reply. "Good. Then you know how it feels to care about just one thing. For me, that thing is becoming Ryujin's CEO. Ryujin is all that matters. We have the potential to expand far beyond anything any company has ever seen, but Masako's wasting it."

"Ambitious much?"

"I am nothing but ambition, Mr. Park." Ularu chuckled again and waved her gloved hand. "But that is not where I was going with that. I wanted to ensure you knew how loyal I am to Ryujin."

"So?"

"So as long as you are loyal, you get rewarded. If there is anything you need, please let me know."

Jimin went to say a basic okay, but when he met Ularu's eyes, he saw it: she observed him. Really observed him. His bare hand in particular. That had him laughing.

"Ah, I see. You think I'm some kind of new tech, huh?"

"No. An asset. A valuable one."

"Asset," he said with a whistle, repeating the word slowly, letting it move over every inch of his tongue. "I don't mind as long as I-"

"Get your mech? Yes, I'm sensing a theme. Do your job, stay loyal, and you get whatever you want. Hell, if your wife's alive, I'll pay for all her medical expenses myself. Just use those powers for Ryujin. For me."

"Yeah, whatever, lady. Can I report to Dalton now, or are you gonna keep me in here all day?"

Ularu opened the door, and Jimin did a mock salute before exiting and retreating to the next floor down of the exec level, where Dalton's space was, along with the rest. All the execs were back in their offices, so Jimin slipped by in a hurry and made it to Dalton.

The security office had the same screens and buzzes as always, and Jimin winced upon entering. Some of the screens looked 3D and blurry, like the symbols in his mind.

"There you are," Dalton said, setting his data slate down and glaring. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Passed out in the bathroom." Jimin flicked the program to Dalton. "But I got it done."

Dalton opened his mouth, but upon receiving the data, he shut up and went to run it. Jimin leaned against the wall and waited for Dalton to scan through all his files, including files from his own computer. Jimin waited and waited, and at the end of the five minute mark, Dalton sighed and stood.

"The mole appears to be Imogene Salzo."

Shocker.

"So what do we do?" Jimin asked, wobbling a bit.

Dalton eyed him and shook his head. "We? No, there is no we. You screwed up enough, so now, I'm handling it personally. That's without going into how you're..." Dalton motioned to Jimin's whole body. "Not in the best state to do anything right now."

Ha, like he'd ever be. His two options were be high or suffer from withdrawal. Aurora withdrawals happened within hours without the drug in your system, hence why Ma had gotten hooked at the speed of light.

Dalton didn't wait for Jimin to answer. "I'll arrest her and build a case against her. In the meantime, take some time off and handle that addiction of yours."

Gee, was it that obvious?

"We don't care what you do in your free time, but could you please save the Aurora addiction for after you finish your Ryujin duties?" Dalton asked, and Jimin shook his head. "Fine, but if you lose your mech, you have no one but yourself to blame. You're dismissed."

Jimin didn't reply. He left the security office and took the familiar path down the stupid metal box of doom to the surface of Neon. With his Ryujin obligations for the day completed, he could go back to the ship and read to Cora and cuddle with her and Marbles.

Finally. Some peace and quiet.

☆☆☆

Jimin was not allowed to get his peace and quiet.

Jimin groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose—which was as sweaty as the rest of him, and he swore the walls began morphing together if he looked at them too long—halting just outside his door, hovering in the archway. He had been preparing to go to Cora's room. Shit, he had a book in his hand and everything; however, Mr. Kim had other plans, it seemed. And, no, not the hot, smart daddy. AKA: Kim Seokjin.

The other one. The one with the swan under his eye.

"Sir," Taehyung said, standing at attention (or, as best he could—he looked a bit like a flopping Neon fish, like Jimin had when he had snorted Aurora). "May I speak with you?"

"Ugh, you're using manners again."

"Gaesaeggi. Dakcheo."

"Huh?"

Taehyung rolled his eyes and dragged Jimin back into his quarters, the poor book falling to the ground in the process. "I basically said shut up you punk little bitch."

Ah, that was the Taehyung Jimin knew. Not that Jimin had time to think about that, though; Taehyung threw him on the bed and closed the door, locking it for good measure. Jimin was beginning to think Jungkook—who had no left arm until Yoongi sent a new one in a week—rubbed off on Taehyung too much. Both of them had an odd tendency to throw Jimin on his own bed.

"If you're not gonna listen to anyone else, maybe you'll listen to me: stop with the Aurora and man up."

Aurora. Yay. The thing Jimin wanted more of, yet he had a feeling his crew would throw him out an airlock if he did it any longer.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Jimin tried to get back up, but Taehyung shoved him back down. "Dude. The fuck?"

"You solar flared Jungkook's metal arm off, dude. I know you don't want to talk about your wife, but you can't be dragging us down with you. I'm done being a pushover, and I think the rest of us are, too. We're not your little minions, we're your crew, and we're supposed to be your friends."

"Whatever," Jimin said, slapping Tae's hand off him and trying to ignore the growing migraine he had had all day. "I never asked you to be pushovers. You're free to leave at any time."

"No. Don't do this bullshit, Jimin. Please, talk to us. You're dangerous now. Look at what you did to Jungkook. What if that was me, huh? Would you take off my arm? And for what, because he tried to talk to you-"

"Shut the fuck up." Jimin blasted Taehyung back with a pulse of energy he didn't know existed within him, and Jimin stood, cracking his neck and lighting up with a solar flare. "Do you want to find out how it feels to lose a limb, Kim?"

Jimin approached while Taehyung stumbled away. The boy had seen more horrors than anyone could imagine, though he was far from someone who dealt with combat. Taehyung had been smart; he had hid away on Neon, lurking in the shadows and building a tattoo parlor in the background. Taehyung hadn't seen the same gang violence that Jimin did.

That meant Taehyung had no clue how to fight. No clue how to throw a punch.

And no clue how to beat Jimin.

"It feels... good, almost. At first, anyway," Jimin continued with a tongue click, shoving Taehyung against the wall and grabbing his shoulder with the solar flare. Taehyung yelped, but Jimin shushed him. "Shh, shh. You don't want anyone to hear us... 'chatting,' do you?"

"Jimin, let me go." Taehyung swallowed, his eyes darting between the solar flare and Jimin's crimson gaze. Jimin could see the red reflecting off Taehyung's face. "You know you don't want to hurt me."

"Maybe I do. Then what?" Jimin's grip tightened on Taehyung. His blinking slowed as he held onto Taehyung as if the man was the only one keeping Jimin in reality. Every three blinks, he swore he saw Hoseok's face instead of Taehyung's. "You gonna slap me? Punch me? Kill me? Whatcha gonna do, Tae?"

"Jimin..."

"But I wasn't finished," Jimin said with a laugh, Taehyung's red jacket's shoulder sleeve beginning to hiss from the heat. Or maybe it was navy blue. Jimin couldn't tell. "It feels like you're about to die, and it's incredible." Jimin came closer until his nose almost brushed against Tae's. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "And then... bam. Pain to remind you that you don't get to die yet." Jimin tore off the entire sleeve of Taehyung's jacket and watched it fizzle to dust in his bare hand. He flicked his eyes back to Tae. "So, Tae, would you like to feel that for yourself?"

Taehyung stiffened in his spot and peered at Jimin. A second passed. Two. Three. And then, Taehyung stormed by without another word.

Welp, so much for not being a pushover.

The door shut, and Jimin slumped down in bed with his hands over his head and his boots digging into the mattress. He couldn't remember the last time he had cleaned his sheets. Or himself. He stank of Neon's polluted air. Rotten fish was mixed in there, too. Not strawberries. Not in over seven months.

"Jimin..."

His mind numbed as the female voice "gifted" him with her presence. He wished he could chuck his stupid brain out of existence and trade it in for anyone else's—shit, Jimin would even take Jungkook's dumbass brain—though he was stuck with the one he had, and that one had a Starborn up his ass.

And not in the fun way.

"What do you want, Y/n?" Jimin asked, finding it somehow easier to speak out loud than in his mind.

"You don't know?"

"Yeah, I was rough with Tae, I get it, but-"

"No. Well, yes, but I tried reaching out to you during that. You didn't hear me. I... I couldn't reach you. It was like you were blocking me from speaking to you."

"No offense, but you were the last person I needed to hear in that moment. If I heard my wife's voice in the middle of that, I probably would've killed the poor bastard," Jimin said with a snort.

"You don't seem bothered by that."

"Should I be?"

"He's your friend."

Jimin clenched his jaw. "So was Hobi."

No words came after that.

Jimin chewed on his nails and paced. More sweat soaked his head, and he patted it down. His eyes twitched, and he wanted to run off the ship. Only one thought hit his mind. The thing that could stop his headache, stop the sweat, stop the brittleness of his body. But he couldn't go, and that was due to the Starborn's insistence on talking to him.

"Jimin, can I ask you something?"

"I can't stop you," Jimin said.

"You just did."

Okay, fair point. He didn't know how he had done that, but he wished he did. If he could learn it, he could block her out. Something he needed to do more often those days. Hearing Y/n's voice was therapy, but it was torture, too. Like he had to hear her voice but couldn't touch her. Hug her. Make love to her.

"Do you miss who you used to be?"

Jimin stopped and pressed his back against his door. "What?"

"Before the artifacts. Do you miss that Jimin?"

"I..." Jimin went to bite on his nail but chomped on his finger instead, and he winced and recoiled. He wanted to trash the room, throw everything in sight, and maybe solar flare someone to get his mind off what the fuck Y/n said, but all he could think of was one thing. The one thing that could help. "Fuck this."

Jimin stomped out of his room, flung off the armless Jungkook who waited not too far away, and sprinted out, fleeing the ship and descending to the surface of Neon once more. Rain soaked him with lighting tearing up the skies. Jimin ignored all of it, at least until Y/n called out to him again.

"Where are you going?"

Oh, the urge to scream at her. To rip her out of his mind. Maybe he'd make her real and a physical being he could touch, or maybe he'd toss her away and never see her again. He didn't know. But, he knew one thing, and that was the answer to her question, even though it was an answer she wouldn't like.

"To get more Aurora."

☆☆☆