"This is a very bad idea."

Taeyong glanced over at Mark with a look of absolute distaste painted over his sharp features. "And you're only getting that now?" he asked bitingly, more sarcasm in his voice than disbelief. "Not when Taemin recruited you, not when we were given the assignment, but now?"

Mark glanced away almost guiltily. The two of them had been sitting behind the wheel of a taxi cab, park innocently across the street from a club. It had been two hours since they had first taken up their positions, awkward and waiting for a certain someone so they could apprehend him and get the hell out, in Taeyong's words.

But Lady Luck seemed like she hated them. Not really surprising, considering their past failures.

It wasn't their first mission, and it wasn't like they had failed the other ones—they had ticked off the objectives, but had somehow managed to mess up one thing or the other every time. He couldn't help but feel that this time, it was going to end just as badly.

Taeyong bounced his knee impatiently, a slight scowl marring his features as he glanced out of the rolled-down window and to the world beyond. The only difference from the previous scene was the increased inflow of people as the sky had grown darker. As far as they knew, there were no cameras around, which made it easier for them with their bad spy imitation.

"Can I wear the mask now?" Mark asked suddenly, biting his lip and looking imploringly at the older man.

"No."

"It's been two hours!"

"I said no." Taeyong cast at him a glare powerful enough to shut him up, straightening in his seat and regretting it immediately. Pain flared up the muscles in his back and abdomen, coating the torso around his wrist in a layer of flame that stuck as slickly as oil on water. "Ouch."

The black-haired male glanced over at him with an empathic look, like they were partners in not only the mission, but also the pain. The rigorous training the members of the unnamed superhero team had to undergo every day for a few hours without fail was probably the one thing that united them, even if it was against the motion.

"How much longer?" Taeyong muttered, more to himself than out loud. Unlike his partner, he was still pretty hung up on having been assigned Mark as a partner, considering both the age difference and the difference in attitude. If Taeyong was a cynic, then Mark was Snow White.

"I have no idea," the Snow White in question replied, glancing down at his watch disappointedly. They hadn't been assigned more than a handful of devices that could provide them with much-needed help, and it had disappointed Mark most of all. Even now, he played with a small metal sphere in his lap, brooding in a way that almost made him look endearing.

"Stop doing that," the blue-haired male muttered, his eyes cutting to the window again—and widening. "That's him."

The target was a man of average height, slightly potbellied and hugely bling-ed out. Heavy gold rings decorated his hands and chains hung around what Taeyong assumed was his neck. When he smiled, a gold tooth winked in the street lamps' light.

"Where?" Mark was at the window in a split second like an excited puppy, thrusting his head out with an eagerness that Taeyong was sure would get them killed. He grabbed the scruff of the younger's jacket and pulled him back, ducking slightly.

"Mask," Taeyong murmured in a low voice, though he knew that no one was close enough to hear. "Get the flash."

"But dude, we could just get him with a smoke bomb!" Mark protested, lower lip jutting out slightly, no doubt excited by the comic book prospects in his mind. "Smoke the rest of them out, and like, pick the guy up."

Taeyong rolled his eyes, though he was internally considering the idea. The two exited the car as inconspicuously as they could in their all-black gear that cloaked them into the night. Their outfits were something of a cross between Power Ranger spandex and G I Joe uniforms, consisting of fitted fabric with multiple pockets and holsters that accommodated more than just body parts, tailored to their powers. They were probably the only thing Taeyong liked about the whole project.

He pulled the mask over his face and rolled the cloth down over his neck, completing the ensemble. He looked sideways at Mark, who had gone whiter than a sheet, and was checking his pockets with a hasty fear.

Taeyong frowned. "Don't tell me you forgot the—"

"Found 'em!" Mark exclaimed in relief as he pulled something out of his pocket—a little too enthusiastically. The small metal sphere he had been playing with earlier flew through the air and landed on the sidewalk, rolling under one of the cars parked before the building. Coincidentally, this was the car their target was now walking towards.

Taeyong stared at the car, then glanced back at Mark. "What did you just do?"

Before he had even finished speaking, the car exploded.

It wasn't a big explosion, powered by force rather than fire, but the heat generated by it rippled the air around them. It blew apart in a small, almost contained inferno of fire which would have blinded him if it wasn't for the mask. Parts of the car flew everywhere—a door here, a fender there—but there didn't seem to be any serious casualties, owing to the lack of population. When the light faded, the car sat there, burning almost merrily.

"Good job," Taeyong said dryly, and Mark's ears turned pink as he hurried to slip on his mask. "You stay here. I'll be back in a moment."

He rushed towards the scene with Mark hot on his heels despite his clear order. The haze didn't bother him much, due to the suit, and he stepped right into the clear ring burned out by the explosion. Their target, a trafficker who went by the atrociously tacky alias 'Geronimo', was pinned to the ground by the fender, pushing and pulling with all of his might.

"I can't believe you're that weak," Taeyong muttered as he and Mark grabbed one arm each and pulled him out from under it. His voice, which had been deepened because of a tiny device no bigger than a band-air plastered to the suit at the base of his throat, sounded tinny and alien to his own ears.

"You're so going to get your butt kicked," Mark said to the man, the giddiness in his voice contrasting with the artificial deepness of his voice comically. Geronimo stared up at the two of them with wide eyes, and Taeyong suddenly felt self-conscious. "Is he going to faint?"

The blue-haired male pushed back his blue hair. The mask only concealed the lower half of his face, going from one ear to the other and reaching his cheeks just below the eyes, but covered his nose, rising up from the bridge to join his forehead in a band that went around the circumference of his head.

"Do you think we look like Kaneki in Tokyo Ghoul? Except, like, we don't have our eyes covered." Mark went on, oblivious to both the dealer's and Taeyong's discomfort. "Yo, do you think they're gonna kill him?"

"Shut up and keep dragging," Taeyong snapped, holding on tight as Geronimo began to fight against their grip, probably because of the 'kill' comment. He reached into his pocket and brought out an object that resembled a power bank, and tasered the man, who then went limp. "At this rate, we're going to be seen."

"I still don't get why we can't be seen," Mark said, dragging the man as zealously as he possibly could. "I mean, we have masks and everything. And we could be, like, the city's resident superheroes or something. And then all the bad guys are gonna be drawn to us 'cause, like, that's what bad guys do, and then we're gonna get rid of them all—"

"Mark, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but could you please shut up?" Taeyong barked. "I'm already getting a headache with all the smoke."

"The smoke at this distance won't get through the mask, though."

Taeyong glared again, and the younger felt silent. They dragged the man across the street as fast as they could. He pulled open the back door of the cab, and they stuffed the man inside, turning around to find a flash zeroed in on his face.

He flinched, raising a gloved hand to cover his eyes. At first, confusion buzzed around his head, but then his eyes adjusted to the light, then widened. The police weren't here, thankfully, but cameras had miraculously found them with the supposed speed of light, and about six of them were aimed at the two of them.

"Oh, fuck," Taeyong exclaimed softly.

Mark glanced at him from the driver's seat. "What?"

If it hadn't been for the mask, his dead look would have made the answer obvious enough. Taeyong exhaled, as if gathering the nerve to break some pretty bad news.

"Paparazzi."

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i am bacc (kinda)

thoughts on this chapter? i've been gone so long i have my doubts about this, but well. improvising is key, as i always say (not really) but i hope you guys are still enjoying this AND SHARING IT WITH EVERYONE YOU KNOW BECAUSE A BITCH HAS LOW SELF ESTEEM jk but i have had problems recently

ok imma stop bothering y'all for now

love and hugs,

manx.