"Do you think you can get up?"

Ten sagged against the pillar, feeling boneless and muscle-less but somehow very human. Just a few seconds ago, he had been about to go ka-splat on the asphalt, and now by some medical miracle, he was sitting unharmed (well, physically unharmed) on the floor of a pavilion just a few dozen feet away from the building.

"I think so," he said, in answer to the question, and tried to rise to his feet. Unfortunately, neither his body nor his mind had recovered from his missed meeting with death-by-drop, and he stumbled forward, but was caught just before he hit the floor. Ten let out a shaky breath, knees feeling like they were filled with jelly, and half-collapsed back into his previous sitting position. "On second thought, no."

"Take your time," Taemin replied. He looked as calm and unruffled as ever, the only evidence of his jumping off buildings visible in his wind-tousled blonde hair.

Using his powers of super-speed, Taemin had basically run across the vertical walls to reach Ten, using the added momentum to push himself off the surfaces and reach him faster. Ten had never appreciated super-speed as much before, but it seemed like a neat power to have now.

"You know, you technically saved me from falling twice." Ten chuckled, shaking his head, and his smile faded into blankness. "And I'm not sure why that's so funny."

"It's expected," Taemin replied. "You're disorientated from the fall, so it's gonna take a few minutes for you to get back on your feet."

"I'm just..." Ten blew air out of his mouth, suddenly feeling high-strung and jittery. It seemed like a much more appropriate reaction to almost falling to his death and being saved by a superhero. A fellow superhero, he had to remind himself. He wasn't entirely useless himself, just...mostly. "I can't believe you did all that."

"It was my first time running over walls, too, if that's what you're talking about," Taemin said, sounding amused. "Thankfully, the distance wasn't much to cover, or I would've been claimed by gravity too."

"It's cool," Ten said. He pressed his hands against the pillar he had been leaning against, and tried to stand up. Taemin supported him, and Ten's knees still shook when he finally rose to his feet, but it was definitely better than tripping over his own feet. "Your power, I mean. It makes you practically invincible."

"Every incredible power has an incredible downside," Taemin replied with a shrug, still holding him up. "My speed just means I tire out much more quickly. Use my energy up, in a way, use up all the fuel I have without realizing it. I need more nutrition and rest than the average human."

Ten nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I get it. Sometimes I fade without realizing I'm invisible. It's attuned to my emotions, so it takes effort to be visible, too, sometimes." He frowned. "It's that way with everyone, isn't it? Taeyong has to strain himself because he has more bodies to control, Baekhyun's lightning burns his energy up, and Kai doesn't always know how to control his ability. It slips out of him. I noticed it when we were drinking together," he added. "He accidentally made me drink two bottles extra."

"It's a way to balance out the privilege of powers."

"I guess," Ten mused, then frowned. "But Lucas—"

"Absorbs too much energy," Taemin said before he could complete his statement. He looked far away, a distant look in his eye even as he looked at Ten. "I worry he might shoulder too much to bear."

His tone was muted, worried even. It was surprising for Ten, who had never seen the billionaire anything but reserved. He didn't exactly seem like sharing type. Before Ten could respond, though, Taemin spoke up, voice cleared of any emotion that had previously been there.

"Seeing as you can stand up now, I think we should go," Taemin said. "Not that I don't want to give you more time to rest—I wish I could, but we can't rest. Not right now."

Ten nodded, turning away to hide his wince. "I still have no idea what's happening in there."

"Unfortunately," Taemin said, "I think I do."

|

I think I know what happened here.

Mark made his way up the service alley just next to the east wing of the building, glancing around the entrance to the parking lot. The Four had left this place unguarded—possible they had missed its existence while inspecting the building for use, which wasn't actually surprising. The parking lot wasn't actually supposed to be there, since the building was still in construction, but Mark had taken one look at the alleyway nestled between this and the adjacent office building and realized that the lot was shared.

And therefore, already built.

It was completely dark underground, so he had to switch on the concentrated beam of light in his Bracelight which wasn't supposed to be used for flashlight purposes. The light revealed a lot of things about the lot that had been hidden in the dark, namely, the parked cars collecting dust and the uncleared trash spread generously among them.

This place hadn't been visited by a living soul in a very long time, even by cleaners, judging by the condition of the place. This meant that neither of the buildings were in use—one because it hadn't been built completely, and the other because...

Because what? Mark asked himself, still glancing around. He could stay and investigate a bit more, but he didn't have time. All he knew so far was that the place had been abandoned, and he was more likely to find the answers within the building itself.

He navigated his way using the obscured signs hanging from the ceiling of the lot and finally found an entryway which used stairs instead of elevators, which he knew wouldn't work. If the downloaded blueprint was correct—and there was no reason for it not to be—then the stairs would lead him directly to the main hallway of the east wing, and he wouldn't have to work to hard to go into stealth mode.

As he had predicted, the stairs let him out into the main corridor. Mark stuck to the walls and doused his light, peering carefully into the corner every turn he took to make sure he wasn't running smack into some villainous guard dog. No blips had appeared on his screen when he had been watching this area for the team, but he knew better than to assume and be rash. One wrong assumption could mean the difference between life and death.

At last he came upon the door at the end of the hallway, a simple white door with no placards or nameplates decorating the front of it. Mark pushed it open slowly, wincing when it produced a low-pitched whining sound upon being moved. He pressed himself flat against the wall behind the door and waited for a minute, but no one came out. Then he took a deep breath and went inside, making sure to shut the door behind him.

The room was utterly and disappointingly empty, save for a single chair and table. It hadn't even been folly constructed—sprung wires hung from holes in the wall, and wooden shavings and curls lay everywhere, every step producing plumes of dust which made the inside of his nostrils tickle. Mark bit his lip, wondering if the signal risk was worth giving the place a good scan, but then he spotted the jacket.

His spirits lifted immediately. The jacket itself was simple and unpromising enough, a black leather item which lay in the lap of the chair, having been hidden from his view earlier by the tabletop. Mark moved towards it, scrutinizing it for a long moment before he decided it was unlikely that it hid any booby traps, and seized it up.

Thankfully, there were no alarm bells. That could be because this jacket wasn't worth guarding and Mark's theory had been wrong, but he didn't want to be pessimistic now that he had risked it all just entering the building. He rummaged through the pockets of the jacket, but came up with nothing.

"All for nothing," Mark muttered under his breath, and sighed. The jacket had felt oddly heavy at a few spots, but he guessed it was because of all the metal chains and loops attached to it. He put down the jacket, trying to remember the way it had been left earlier so he could arrange its position, and accidentally pulled on the hem.

Mark blinked. The seam had come unstitched at one place along the inside, but there were no loose threads lining it to indicate that it was because of an accident. He narrowed his eyes, pushing his index and middle finger into the rip, and felt along the inside.

Aha.

It wasn't a rip after all, but a carefully made laceration. Mark grinned triumphantly and put his hand into the small pocket created in the seam, drawing out three tubes. No—not tubes. Capped syringes.

Mark put two into his pocket, and raised the third into the light for further inspection. The plastic tube was clear, showing a greenish liquid inside it, watery and runny. "What the heck...?" he whispered, frowning, and was about to take a better look when his earpiece crackled.

He was instantly alert, pressing his fingertips against the earpiece and tilting his head to listen better. Silence.

Mark's lips pressed together. He waited a few more seconds, setting the jacket straight, and slipped the third syringe into a safe pocket.

Then he ran out of the room.