[D75] CLIMB OVER THE PARALLEL LINES (2/3)
Prompt Code: D75
Title: Climb Over The Parallel Lines
Jongin seems to have resigned himself to staying here for a while but there’s complete silence between them in the days that follow. He doesn’t talk to Kyungsoo, barely emerging from his room if only just to skirt into the kitchen for food before retreating inside again, clearly avoiding him. Kyungsoo can’t blame him.
He sits on the couch stiffly, still uncomfortable from the stitches and stays on the news channel most of the time, for lack of anything else to watch. There’s all the usual reports, a consistent stream of crimes and an endless trail of open case murders. His way may not be perfect, nor traditionally ethical, but at least it’s effective.
At one point there’s a segment on the hospital, reporting a number of bullets being found at the hospital carpark though no bodies were found. Jongin stiffens when the segment comes on, having just been on his way back to the bedroom from the kitchen. He freezes, not looking at Kyungsoo before heading back to his room.
Kyungsoo’s been having trouble sleeping at night, opting to sit on the ledge by the fire escape instead, feeling hollow. There’s a cool breeze coming through the gap underneath the window and Kyungsoo shivers but doesn’t move.
The sound of something hard sliding on the floor behind him startles him and he turns to find Jongin getting down on his knees silently, tugging the med kit box in front of him.
“Lift up your shirt,” he instructs him quietly, taking out a fresh roll of gauze. Kyungsoo obeys, holding his shirt up as Jongin takes off the old dressing to replace it with a clean one. The wound still hurts but Jongin’s touch is gentle.
“When I was a kid, I used to go kick a ball around in the park with my best friend, Chungho,” Jongin starts casually, his eyes still focused on the gauze. Kyungsoo listens attentively, holding as still as possible.
“We’d go every day after school, whenever we had the time. Sometimes we’d challenge the other kids in the park to a match,” Jongin says, smoothing down the tape over the edges of the dressing. “We even had a college picked out to go together.”
He looks down, packing up the medkit again. “We didn’t get many drive-by’s in my area but the one time we did, they got Chungho.”
Jongin finally looks up at him, his eyes filled with old grief and a new sort of resolve. His expression is calm, missing the anger Kyungsoo had seen the last time they spoke.
“I used to wish something terrible would happen to the man who shot Chungho but instead he only got a few years behind bars,” Jongin manages a small smile. “That’s when I realized I wanted to do something with myself that would help people, to save them when they’re in trouble because of these kinds of people.”
Kyungsoo drops his shirt back down, shifting to sit on the floor in front of Jongin, bringing them to the same level.
“We have different views on these things,” Jongin goes on stoutly. “And I realize it’s not the black and white polar opposites I thought it was. I guess I’m saying I see why you do it.”
He falls silent, suddenly looking a little unsure of himself.
“I don’t do this for fun,” Kyungsoo murmurs and Jongin nods, looking like he desperately needed to hear that.
“It’s not for the money either,” he adds and Jongin bows his head apologetically at that.
“But you don’t regret it.”
“No. I don’t.”
Jongin drags a hand through his hair, frowning.
“When you put it the way you do, it’s almost hard to argue with your logic even though I still can’t seem to get on board with it,” Jongin sighs finally. “I don’t know. Everything is so fucked up anyway, maybe the world needs this. A little bit of both to balance it out.”
Kyungsoo blinks in surprise at that, startled that he’s finding a compromise in the whole situation where they can come to an understanding they can both deal with.
“For what it’s worth, your argument is solid too,” Kyungsoo tells him. “I think about it the same way every time, trying to figure out what’s reasonable. It’s just that- I need to do more than just wait for them to actually hurt someone.”
“How many?”
Kyungsoo stares down at his his hands, feeling a sudden spike of shame for the first time since he started doing this. “Eight.”
Jongin sucks in a deep breath, nodding slowly.
“Were they bad?”
“The worst” Kyungsoo says darkly. Rapists, murderers, child traffickers, all the like.
Jongin swallows, seeming to try and make his peace with all this.
“Thank you,” Jongin says instead. “For saving my life.”
“You too,” Kyungsoo says, feeling another painful twinge in his side from the stitches.
“Doesn't it get lonely?” Jongin asks suddenly, staring at him intently. “Trying to take responsibility for them yourself?
Kyungsoo thinks about the cold walls in his empty apartment and the silence he’d come home to everyday, filled with nothing but memories of every past task and every other to come.
“Yeah,” he says, holding Jongin’s gaze. “It does.”
▸
There isn’t much to do around the house while they’re laying low. Kyungsoo is still too weak to even consider sneaking out at night to see what’s happening on the other side. At least they have a TV with enough channels to keep them entertained for a while.
Jongin sits on the lumpy armchair at first, bearing with the broken springs under the cushion until he gives in and settles down on the small couch beside Kyungsoo.
“You know I haven’t asked yet, but why did you get this place when you already have an apartment?” Jongin asks one afternoon during the commercial break.
“Guess I knew something like this might happen,” Kyungsoo hums, flicking a stray crumb off the couch cushion.
“That you would be forced into cohabitation with the person you were supposed to kill but didn't?” Jongin says and Kyungsoo turns to him, alarmed, but Jongin has a smile on his face, clearly taking the situation a lot more lightly now, however morbid.
“More on the lines of me being hunted down, but you’re not too bad for company I suppose,” Kyungsoo says, returning with a quirk of a smile himself.
Jongin scoffs, turning back to the TV, seizing the remote and changing the channel himself.
Jongin has to borrow Kyungsoo’s clothes for a while since he doesn't have anything else with him but the clothes he had on the night Kyungsoo saved him and brought him here. Most of them are way too small for him but it’ll have to do. Kyungsoo has to keep himself from spluttering with laughter when Jongin walks in with one of Kyungsoo’s T-shirts stretched tightly across his chest and his sweats stopping a few inches over his ankles.
Jongin flushes, looking down at himself self consciously and Kyungsoo looks apologetic, not knowing what’s come over him. It’s been a long time since he’s laughed this freely, maybe even at all, nor felt this kind of lightness in his chest; ironic considering the situation they’re in.
It’s starting to feel like they’re almost back at that place they were before any of this mess happened, before Kyungsoo got Jongin’s picture and before Jongin knew everything about him. It feels like they’re back at the grocery store, talking about things as mundane as cookie crumble ice cream. It’s just good to see Jongin smile again. Smiling at him.
He’s taking all of this into stride surprisingly well, especially after the rocky start they had the first couple of days. It’s not easy to stomach Kyungsoo’s secrets once they’re out there and Kyungsoo is just infinitely grateful that Jongin is somehow looking past them enough to not be distant from him like he’d expected. Laying low is a lot easier with someone to pass the time with, at least till he’s healed enough to move properly without tearing something open.
“So what’s the plan exactly?” Jongin asks finally, turning to him and sits cross-legged on the couch. “How long do we have to stay here?”
Kyungsoo mulls over it, not having a definite answer, though it’s all that’s been on his mind since they got here.
“I can’t do anything yet till I’m better,” he says, gingerly patting the wound on his side. “I need to figure out why they needed you dead so badly.”
Jongin swallows nervously at that.
“What about you?” Jongin asks. “You said they were helping you with your brother.”
“I’ll have to figure that out by myself,” Kyungsoo murmurs grimly, realizing he’s being thrown back to square one.
▸
Kyungsoo's wound finally starts to heal enough that he can walk without trouble. Jongin took the stitches out the day before though he warns him firmly that he still needs more rest. They're running a little lower on food that Kyungsoo is comfortable with, having stocked the place up with one person in mind, but they've still got some to go before Kyungsoo has to risk sneaking out to go get more.
When he emerges from his bedroom, Jongin is already in the kitchen, hunched over something on the table. Kyungsoo steps closer, peering over his shoulder and catches sight of a banana lying on its side with its skin open. Jongin is tugging at something, so focused on it that he doesn't hear Kyungsoo coming up behind him.
"What are you doing?"
Jongin jumps at the sudden sound of his voice, dropping the objects in his hands. Kyungsoo sees the needle and thread lying on the table, connected to what look like stitches on the banana's skin.
"You startled me," Jongin glares at him, picking up the needle again and a pair of specialized scissors to hold the needle in.
Kyungsoo sits down in the chair beside him, looking at him curiously. Jongin sighs and offers a small smile, staring down at the half stitched up banana peel.
"I practice sutures on bananas when I'm feeling on edge or stressed out," he admits and Kyungsoo bows his head guiltily, knowing that he’s had a hand in making him feel that way.
He swallows, trying to find something to say to distract from the thought.
"They look really neat," he says nodding his chin at the banana.
Jongin smiles, looking pleased. He glances up, looking at the fruit bowl and pauses before grabbing another banana.
"D'you want to try it out?" he says, holding it out to him.
"What, me? Doing that?" Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows in surprise, staring down at the fruit Jongin sets down in front of him.
"Yeah, come on, I'll show you," Jongin beams, sliding his chair over closer to Kyungsoo's. He breaks open the banana peel, leaving an open slit along the length to work on and hands the needle and thread over to Kyungsoo, showing him how to position the needle driver.
The needle wobbles in the driver and Kyungsoo looks at Jongin uncertainly. Chuckling, Jongin leans closer, reaching out to steady his hand with his own and murmurs instructions on how to push the needle in and drag it out.
"Just twist your wrist a little," Jongin says, pressing his thumb into Kyungsoo's pulse point to shift the angle of his hand and Kyungsoo lets him, following his lead. Jongin's fingers are soft and gentle on his, but Kyungsoo is more distracted by his warmth pressing into his side as he leans in closer to get better access to his wrist.
The first suture comes out a little wonky and Jongin chuckles, encouraging him to try the next one. Kyungsoo obliges, surprised at how shaky his hands are considering his line of work. He has to breathe out a laugh at the awful, messy job he does with the next three sutures and Jongin hides his own grin behind his hand.
"Well. You're on the right track," Jongin's voice is thick with barely contained amusement, his eyes curved upwards with his laugh.
Kyungsoo mirrors his smile, setting the tools down and pushing the banana away. Clearly he won’t be considering medicine as a future career path any time soon. Jongin slides the banana over to his own side of the table and picks up the needle again, finishing the rest of the sutures tidily with practiced ease. Kyungsoo watches the way his hands move and the expression on his face as he works, feeling something heavy setting in his chest because he's taken all this away from him.
"I'm sorry," he says again, feeling like it’s a million times too little for this kind of apology. "For doing all this to you."
Jongin must have sensed a change of tone coming because he's unfazed by Kyungsoo's words, focusing on tying a knot in the thread when he's stitched the whole banana skin up.
"You know, maybe I got lucky that I was meant to be your hit," he says, getting up to clean the tools and put them back in the medkit. "Technically, if it weren't for you, I'd actually be dead."
He turns around and leans back against the sink, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes meet Kyungsoo's again, keeping them fixed on him and Kyungsoo almost wants to bow his head and look away, but he knows Jongin's actually right.
He thinks back to when Chuwon first gave him the pictures of Jongin, feeling a weird bubble of thankfulness swelling in his chest now that he was in Kyungsoo's hands or he wouldn't be there standing across the room with a hint of a smile growing on his lips.
▸
Kyungsoo has been glued to his laptop day and night, going over every file and document Seungsoo left behind. This is everything he’s got left from his brother, having gotten to sweep his apartment before the police got to it. Kyungsoo found the hard drive next to Seungsoo’s laptop, making a copy of his for himself and leaving everything else in for evidence that might help the police’s case in convicting the man who killed him.
He’s been through these documents a thousand times over, flipping through the files on his screen again and again, reading through the words and numbers to find some sort of correlation somewhere, but he’s still coming up empty.
He’s been losing sleep over this, spurred on by a sense of urgency since he turned on Chuwon and the organization so abruptly. Now that he’s cut off from their resources, he has to figure this out by himself. Seungsoo had a jumble of documents with records of strange transactions and funds moving, reports of imports and exports that don’t seem to make sense and blueprints of steel containers. He can’t figure out what exactly Seungsoo was looking into. It feels like it should be obvious, but he’s missing the key part.
He doesn’t even hear the door opening until Jongin is right beside him, idly leaning over the back of the couch to peer at the screen.
“It’s 3am,” he says, his voice a little huskier than usual from sleep. “Are you still reading those?”
Kyungsoo breathes out a sigh, dropping his head back against the couch tiredly.
“I keep hitting a wall,” he murmurs, feeling desperate and hopeless.
Jongin hums, rounding the couch to sit down next to him.
“That’s weird.”
Kyungsoo turns to look at him, seeing Jongin frowning at the laptop screen.
“What is it?”
“Over here,” he says, pointing at one of the addresses on a document he has pulled up from the exports file. “That’s the exact same area the John Doe’s were from. I noticed the name on their charts before I was sealed out of the archives.”
Kyungsoo stares at him, confused staring back at the screen. He’s got the blueprints pulled up again and he stares at them, thinking about everything else he’s been staring at for the past few months. It suddenly falls into place and Kyungsoo feels his chest tighten, going cold when it hits him.
They’re linked. Jongin being targeted for trying to report the dead bodies is linked to whatever his brother was looking into. The government wanted Jongin dead to keep him quiet. Traces of Plutonium in the bodies’ bloodstreams. Radiation poisoning. Export reports. Kyungsoo flips the screen over to the blueprints and finally recognizes the machinery designs. Containment tanks for radioactive, nuclear material. They’re making nuclear weapons and selling them.
“Seungsoo knew,” he breathes in shock, his hands falling away from his laptop. “He- you- they wanted you dead to keep you quiet. These documents, it’s not some private organization, it’s theirs, Seungsoo knew what they were doing, they-”
They’re the ones who killed him.
“They killed him,” Kyungsoo whispers, his chest constricting and suddenly he can’t breathe. They lied to him, sending him on a wild goose chase with made up leads, they manipulated him, they-
“I helped them,” he chokes out, feeling dirty. “Fuck, I thought they were- I helped them.”
“Kyungsoo, breathe,” Jongin says urgently, taking the laptop away and kneels up in front of him.
“They killed my brother and I shook their hand,” Kyungsoo’s entire body is shaking, feeling his fingers going numb, nauseous to a point where he thinks he might actually throw up. He can’t tell if he’s going dizzy from the panic or if his eyes are just blurring over from tears, but his limbs feel too heavy to move. His ears are ringing, everything swirling in his vision and he can hear his blood pumping in his head.
“Easy, hey,” Jongin’s pierces through the calamity in his head. “Just focus on me okay, focus on my hand.”
Kyungsoo registers the press of Jongin’s fingers around his wrist, pressing into his pulse point. He helped his brother’s killers, he did their work for them; he can’t breathe-
“Kyungsoo, listen to me. I’m going to tap on your wrist, just breathe with me, okay?” Jongin’s face swims into his vision again, his expression concerned but calm. Kyungsoo anchors on to that image.
“I’ve got you,” Jongin murmurs, tapping his fingers against Kyungsoo’s pulse, setting a slow pace and Kyungsoo fights to breathe through the tightness in his chest, to match the pace. “You’re okay.”
Kyungsoo lets his words wash over him, listening to the soothing tone of his voice to block out the sound of his thundering heart in his ears. The tapping grounds him, and he follows Jongin’s pace until he stops feeling like his chest is about to burst open.
Jongin reaches over, brushing a few stray tears away from his cheek and draws him up from the couch, tugging him into his room and lays down on one side of the bed, patting the other to draw Kyungsoo down too.
He doesn’t break the silence and Kyungsoo appreciates it, needing more time to sort through the chaos in his head, to reconcile what he’s been doing these past few months. He feels a spike of guilt surging up his throat again, the wave of grief washing over him again, tinged with anger. Lying down helps him think better and breathe more easily, finally feeling less like the earth is crumbling beneath him.
“We’ll get them,” Jongin says quietly, finally breaking the silence. “The hospital has all the records, we can get them and figure out what the hell is going on together, right? We can fix this.”
Kyungsoo turns to look at him, eyes settling on the softness of his expression. He offers a small smile and nods, feeling too exhausted to try for words. The ache in his chest settles gradually as his eyes begin to droop.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” Jongin says quietly.
Kyungsoo closes his eyes. “Me too.”
▸
Kyungsoo takes him up on his word to head back to the hospital the next day, dressing up in dark clothes and covering their faces warily the moment they step out of the house. It’s a lot harder to stay hidden on Kyungsoo’s bike but they’ll have to make do with what they’ve got.
“Watch out for the cameras,” Kyungsoo murmurs when they step inside, keeping his head low.
Jongin nods, already familiar with where they are. He tugs Kyungsoo into one of the locker rooms, snatching up a pair of white lab coats for them both. Jongin slips on a white facemask to cover the lower part of his face, and Kyungsoo settles for his own thick rimmed glasses.
They get through the main corridor without attracting any attention to themselves, slipping through the bustle of gurneys and rushing doctors with ease. They make their way to corner leading to the reception counter where the records computer is. Jongin hisses and takes a step back behind the wall right before they round it, grabbing one of the files off the shelves and pretends to be checking the patient’s charts.
“What’s wrong?” Kyungsoo says, falling into the act with him to look natural.
“The nurse at the counter knows me,” Jongin groans, flipping a page over and pointing at a random word.
Kyungsoo bites his lip, thinking it over for a moment before reaching into his pocket.
“Okay, here,” he says, slipping a small thumbdrive into Jongin’s hand. “You do the extraction from the computer instead, and I’ll distract her. Just copy everything you can on it.”
Jongin nods, handing him the file to use as a distraction and Kyungsoo goes forward first, heading up to the counter. The nurse smiles up at him in greeting and he returns it.
“Hey, do you mind looking over this with me? There seems to be a few pages missing,” he says, holding the chart open and moving to one end of the counter so she’ll follow. He draws her out further, coaxing her over to the shelving unit away from the counter to grab another handful of charts.
He watches Jongin emerge from behind the wall, slipping behind the high counter the moment the nurse’s back is turned, ducking low so he can’t be seen by anyone else.
Kyungsoo buys more time, dropping the files in his hand to scatter the papers on the floor between them. It’s enough to keep the nurse busy as she scrambles to gather them back up, helping her to put them back in the right files.
He keeps an eye on the counter with bated breath until Jongin finally slips out with a nod and Kyungsoo gathers the files up quickly, ending the conversation with the excuse that he’s being paged.
Jongin is waiting for him a short way ahead, falling into step with him when Kyungsoo catches up. They ditch the lab coats before heading out of the building through the back, back to where Kyungsoo left his bike in the car park.
There are voices up ahead and Kyungsoo holds a hand out in front of Jongin warily, ushering him behind one of the parked cars as they catch pieces of a conversation. The smell of smoke wafts in towards them, carried by the wind; it’s just a pair of doctors on their smoke break.
Kyungsoo almost stands back up to get going until he catches some of the words clearly.
“-lot easier now that Kim isn’t around anymore.”
Jongin’s eyes widen, listening to them talk about him.
“They’s going with the story that he quit, right?” the other man says, following it with a derisive laugh. “Like Kim Jongin ever knew how to quit.”
“Where do you suppose he is now?”
There’s a pause. “They’ve probably taken care of him by now. You know they don’t like keeping problems like him around when he’s meddling in their business.”
Kyungsoo watches recognition and confusion swimming in Jongin’s eyes, his mouth falling open at the realization that the staff in the hospital has been compromised too.
“Let’s head back.”
They both stiffen when they hear the footsteps coming closer but they turn in the other direction.
“You know them?” Kyungsoo asks delicately. Jongin still looks shocked.
“Yeah,” he breathes out. “My supervisors. They’re on the board.”
Kyungsoo gets to his feet, helping Jongin up to make their way to Kyungsoo’s bike.
“I can’t believe they were in on this too,” he says, looking lost as he climbs on the bike. “It’s no wonder they were so adamant on taking me off the case.”
“The government has their claws in everything,” Kyungsoo says, knowing full well how far their reach is. He starts the engine, pulling out of the carpark to take them back home.
The pull up the files Jongin had extracted on Kyungsoo’s laptop, perched on his lap. Jongin leans over to get a look at the screen curiously, shifting closer to him on the couch.
“They’ve been encrypted,” Kyungsoo mutters, opening up a decryption program he’s had since he was in the force, hoping it will work on this.
“It’s why I couldn’t access the files anymore,” Jongin says.
The progress bar loads the decryption, finally reaching 100% and the full files open up across his screen.
“There,” Jongin points immediately to the column of numbers on the charts indicating the level of chemicals found in the bloodstream. “High levels of plutonium. They were all dying of radiation poisoning, but the actual cause of death was a gunshot wound.”
“Their bodies look like they’re in tact,” Kyungsoo frowns through the photographs from the morgue. “Why are they still John Doe’s?”
“Their fingerprints were burnt off,” Jongin says darkly. “And their teeth didn’t match with anyone in any database. It’s like their identities were completely erased off the system, like they never existed.”
“They probably were,” Kyungsoo muses. “It matches with Seungsoo’s findings.”
He swallows over his brother’s name, breathing in slowly before going on. Jongin doesn’t push.
“If those blueprints are right, they’re dealing with enough nuclear material to raise a lot of red flags.”
“Weapons?” Jongin asks.
“Bombs even,” Kyungsoo pulls up the export reports that were buried till Seungsoo found them.
“And they’re selling them,” Kyungsoo says grimly, staring at the fund movements bouncing between multiple different accounts. “I just can’t figure out who’s getting paid.”
He pushes the laptop away, setting it down on the coffee table.
“I’m going to go check it out,” he decides, getting to his feet.
“Well, I’m coming with you,” Jongin declares, standing up with him and Kyungsoo gapes at him incredulously.
“Jongin, it’s way too dangerous, these people are trying to kill you,” he says, frowning.
“They’re trying to kill you too, aren’t they?” Jongin retorts calmly, his face determined.
“I can take care of myself.”
“So can I.”
Kyungsoo stares at him in disbelief but Jongin just stares back at him, standing his ground. He sighs exasperatedly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”
Jongin looks satisfied, offering a grim smile.
“These people have turned my life upside down trying to kill me,” he sighs, the exhaustion and strain finally showing on his face. “I just want to be there to see exactly what’s going on, so I can be part of it when we take them down. I owe it to every John Doe in the hospital too.”
Kyungsoo’s chest swells a little when he says ‘we’, feeling a somewhat misplaced mixture of relief and contentment that Jongin thinks of them as a team together. He sighs, coming back to the matter at hand, wondering if he should teach him how to hold a gun first, or use a knife. It can’t hurt to be prepared if he absolutely has to come. Kyungsoo understands where he’s coming from, aware that he would do the exact same thing if he were in Jongin’s shoes.
He decides to just show him some self defence moves instead, tugging him out from behind the couch to the open space of the living room. Jongin complies easily, letting Kyungsoo instruct him on how to move and lets him position his arms and legs.
“Right, like that and just-” Kyungsoo leans in to shift Jongin’s hips more sideways to finish the stance. He’s aware of how close he’s standing to Jongin, with his hands still on his hips and pulls away quickly, swallowing through his dry throat. Jongin looks a little pink but he’s staring at the floor instead, holding up the position.
Kyungsoo moves on to the next move quickly, opting to show Jongin how to get out of a chokehold and disarm someone who’s behind him. It takes a few tries and it’s still fairly sloppy, at best, but Jongin is a quick learner and he manages it well enough with the right coordination.
“Okay, I think that should be enough,” Kyungsoo pants, setting his hands on his hips to catch his breath. He’s still not too happy about Jongin coming with him, thinking about everything that could go possibly go wrong while they’re there. He might not be able to save him a second time if they’re spotted.
He realizes belatedly how this must look for Jongin, that Kyungsoo would know these moves with such practiced ease and who he must use them on because Jongin looks at him strangely.
“What is it?” he says, gearing himself up to see the disgust in Jongin’s eyes again and his harsh, true words.
But Jongin just shakes his head, with a small smile. “You’re just different from what I thought you’d be like.”
Kyungsoo hesitates before talking again. “Do I scare you?”
They’ve been staying together in the same apartment for a while now but they’ve never actually gone back to address the issue of what Kyungsoo’s done and how Jongin feels about this whole situation.
“No,” Jongin says sincerely, looking straight at him. “You don’t.”
Kyungsoo manages a small smile, thinking to himself that he really should be, even though he realizes deep down that he desperately doesn’t want Jongin to be. It’s probably why his chest finally feels a whole lot lighter when Jongin says that.
▸
They wait until it’s dark to head out to the marked area in Seungsoo’s files, driving out on Kyungsoo’s bike, way out of town, into a more desolate, depressed area. It takes a while to actually find what they’re looking for once they’re there, since both Jongin’s reports and Seungsoo’s findings only mentioned the general area rather than specific coordinates.
Eventually they come across an old run down factory further isolated from the rest of the residential houses. Kyungsoo notices the new looking containers off to the side that indicate it’s definitely being used despite what the rest of the building may look like from the outside.
Kyungsoo kills the engine a short way away to avoid making noise and alerting whoever’s inside that they’re here. Jongin follows close behind him as Kyungsoo treads carefully on site, looking out for any security cameras or motion sensors.
“It doesn’t look like anyone’s around,” Jongin whispers, keeping his eyes peeled.
“The workers might have gone home but there’s definitely security in there,” Kyungsoo says, looking for any point of entry that they can take without risking being seen.
He catches sight of the parked trucks sitting by the side of the building, spotting an opening along the roof of the factory if they can get close enough to the vehicles.
Nudging Jongin forward, they stay low as they make their way too them, wary of triggering any sensors that might be in place. It’s a brilliant cover, setting up whatever operation it is they’re running here in such a remote area. This place would just look abandoned to anyone just passing by, not even listed on the maps after having gone out of service years ago.
The trucks are a lot bigger up close, shipment trucks meant for bulk delivery. Kyungsoo spots the faded logo on the side of the truck, though he can’t quite make it out in the dark. He pulls out his phone, risking a little light from the built in torch and flashes it across the image quickly.
He recognizes the logo immediately. Soviet.
“They’re selling weapons to the Russians,” Kyungsoo hisses, snapping a few shots of it with his phone before stuffing it back into his pocket.
“How the hell are we even going to prove that with just a logo?” Jongin asks, linking his hands together to give Kyungsoo a leg up to the top of the truck. His height gives him an advantage, climbing up on the tire and grabbing onto the edge by himself before Kyungsoo helps haul him up.
“I’m working on it,” Kyungsoo mutters, pulling out a steel case that was latched onto his belt. He opens it carefully to show Jongin the tiny devices inside. “We can start by bugging the place.”
He tacks a tracking device onto the truck for good measure and moves on to jump onto the low wall on the side of the building. It leads right around to the side where the windows are and they slip inside carefully, unnoticed judging by the lack of shrieking alarm bells.
The inside of the factory is a complete contrast to its exterior, packed with high tech machinery and generators. The containers Kyungsoo had seen in the blueprints are set up along the length of the factory, lined up in a row. No one is around where they are, making it easier for them to slip down onto the railings and walk along the path unnoticed. Kyungsoo takes the chance to slip the rest of the bugs in his case along the tanks, hiding them inconspicuously around the railings and in behind bolts on the steel walls, making sure he has ears around the whole place when he listens in.
Jongin works on taking pictures of whatever he can, focusing on the tanks and the generators down below.
“Can’t believe they’ve managed to keep all this hidden,” Jongin mutters. Kyungsoo hums in agreement, looking around at the vast operation they’ve managed to get going on under everyone’s noses.
A sudden noise jerks him into attention and he grabs onto Jongin’s elbow, tugging him away from the main path as the sound of echoing footsteps comes closer. They slip into the narrow space between two large steel containers, hiding from view in the shadows. It’s too crammed in here to even have enough breathing space between them, pressed up very close together, almost nose to nose until the footsteps disappear.
There’s a heavy silence between them and Kyungsoo’s heart rate picks up a little at the proximity though he tries not to let it show on his face. Jongin doesn’t quite manage it, looking down shyly, though he’s tall enough that looking down doesn’t really hide his face from Kyungsoo. He can see the pink of his cheeks perfectly from where he is.
They get moving again, filling out the main areas where Kyungsoo hasn’t left any bugs yet before deciding it’ll have to be enough as it is. They sneak out the same way they came in, managing to avoid running into any other patrolling security guards.
It’s late when they finally get back to the house but neither of them is sleepy enough to turn in, both settling down on the couch to mull over the pictures Jongin took. Kyungsoo
“So you think that guy, Chuwon, is in on this whole thing?” Jongin asks, flicking through the pictures.
Kyungsoo nods, gritting his teeth at the name. “Seungsoo must have been about to report it but they got to him before he could.”
They’re going to need a lot more concrete proof than a couple of photographs and blueprints to expose them, he muses. Chuwon is just the right hand man, the contact on the outside overseeing that the operation goes smoothly. He’s answering to someone else, someone bigger, with more power deep within the government. The question is who.
▸
They keep the stream coming through from the bugs on throughout the day, not wanting to miss anything useful that might come through. Most of the noise that comes through is from the workers themselves, calling out to each other over the sounds of the hissing machinery.
Kyungsoo monitors the stream most of the time, eyeing the red dot of the tracking device he’d left on the truck on his laptop screen, still unmoving. They haven’t shipped out another load yet. Occasionally, a new set of voices filters through the bugs, more authoritative, calling out orders. They’re clearly the ones in charge, likely running the operation from this end while they answer to someone else, Chuwon probably. It’s still not enough to be incriminating though. Kyungsoo runs a hand through his hair in frustration, wondering if this is even going anywhere like this.
Jongin takes over for him every now and then to give him a break, pushing him over to the couch to sit in from of the TV with a plate of food that Jongin drops in his hands. Kyungsoo smiles appreciatively, ravenously taking a bite out of the sandwich. He pulls Jongin down with him on the couch, muting the TV even though Jongin has the headphones on to listen to the audio more clearly. They don’t talk but Kyungsoo feels more settled sitting here like this, even without the sound from the TV.
He hadn’t registered how bone tired he was till he’s jerked out of the nap he hadn’t realized he was taking on Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin is shaking him awake, unplugging the headphones from the laptop to let the sound flow out through the speakers.
“-another one dropped out.”
Jongin mimes the phone with his hand to indicate that they’re on a phone call. There’s a pause while whoever’s on the other end of the line speaks, inaudible to them.
“Cha Youngjin,” comes through the speaker again. “How should we proceed?”
A pause again and Kyungsoo scrambles to look up the name frantically, searching in the police database he still has access to since his days in the forse, praying that his identity hasn’t been erased just yet.
“We’ll deal with him, sir.” They must be talking to Chaewon.
“If he dropped out, then he might be willing to help us,” Kyungsoo mutters, typing furiously.
He gets a hit on the name, skimming through the details quickly, finding an address.
“That’s on the outskirts of the city,” Jongin says. “Can we even make it in time?”
“We’ll have to try,” Kyungsoo grunts, snatching up his keys.
Jongin clings to Kyungsoo’s middle the whole ride there as he drives way past the speed limit, swerving dangerously fast around the corners on his bike. There’s no time to worry about being spotted.
By some miracle, they find the right address almost immediately, pulling up in front of the house. It’s a small, rickety place, almost the size of a large shed. Kyungsoo has noticed that about a lot of the houses around this area.
The door is still locked when he tries it, in tact too which means there’s a chance that they’re the first ones here. He picks the lock without too much difficulty, swinging it open slowly. It’s dark inside and the air is stuffy and musty, smelling faintly of vomit. Jongin closes the door behind them quietly, following Kyungsoo deeper into the house.
A floorboard creaks under Kyungsoo’s shoe and he freezes immediately, hissing under his breath.
“You know, it’s polite to knock when you come to a man’s home to kill him.”
A hoarse voice comes from the bedroom up ahead and Kyungsoo sighs, dropping the prowling.
He looks back at Jongin who coaxes him forward into the bedroom. The elderly man the voice belongs to is lying in his bed, covered in his sheets. His eyes are bloodshot and he seems to be having trouble breathing properly, too weak to even move his head much to look at them when they come in.
“Cha Youngjin?”
“In the flesh,” the man croaks. “So, Chuwon sent you to clean up after himself?”
Kyungsoo perks up at the name, confirming his assumption that he’s at least partially behind this whole thing.
“We’re not working for Chuwon,” Kyungsoo says grimly. “We’re trying to stop him. But he has sent others to kill you, they’re probably on their way now.”
Youngjin peers up at him suspiciously, staring between him and Jongin like he can somehow see through them to find the truth.
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t do much to help,” he says, seeming to accept that they’re not here to kill him, at least not yet. “I’m dying, boy. Radiation poisoning or something fancy like that.”
He dissolves into a fit of coughing and Jongin rushes over to his side to help him sit up a little straighter, holding up a glass of water to his lips.
“You can help us,” Jongin says quietly after Youngjin’s breathing settles again. “You could tell us everything you know, anything that will help us incriminate them. We just need proof.”
Youngjin looks up at him doubtfully. “He’s a smart guy, Chuwon. Good at covering his tracks. I’ve never even seen the guy, let alone know who gives him orders.”
“Anything you can tell us will help,” Jongin urges him.
Youngjin heaves out a raspy sigh, and Kyungsoo holds his breath, waiting for his answer.
“Can’t hurt, I suppose,” he says and Kyungsoo exhales in relief. “Might as well do something right so this wasn’t all just a waste.”
Kyungsoo jerks into motion, taking his phone out and pulling up the voice recorder, setting it down on the nightstand close to Youngjin. He nods, letting him know that he can start talking.
“My name is Cha Youngjin. I’ve been working in the old factory outside the city.”
Jongin nods in encouragement and he goes on, detailing everything about the nuclear operations loud and clear, his words broken only by more bouts of coughing.
“They told us the government sanctioned it but I’m not stupid,” Youngjin goes on, scoffing. “No way any of this is legal. I served my time in the army, I remember the Soviet crests. Guess we’ve come full circle, selling nuclear arms to the Russians now.”
He stops to take a breath and Kyungsoo glances out through the window anxiously, keeping an eye out for any more visitors. He closes the curtain to make sure no one can look, or shoot, inside.
“They’re smart, you know,” Youngjin goes on. “Making us sign NDAs to keep us quiet. It’s not like we have any other options out here; we need to survive somehow. Can’t afford to break contract and get evicted and sued on top of that. No one else was hiring and I needed the money.”
He coughs again, the sound is painful, coming from deep in his chest.
“I don’t have much time left, so it doesn’t matter anyway. If I go down, I’m damn well going to drag them down with me.”
“I don’t know who the big boss is. We only ever answered to some guy called Chuwon and I only know that because I overheard a phone call,” Youngjin’s breathing is starting to get wheezy, struggling to get through the words. Jongin steps in closer to Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo feels him slip his finger around one of his own, squeezing for comfort.
“What I do know is when their next shipment is going out. The 21st of this month, down by the docks; they stick to a pattern, bi-weekly. Not sure how helpful this is but they mentioned something about a ‘Rindigo’. Heard them say it while I was loading the trucks.”
He stops, done talking, and Kyungsoo ends the recording, saving the file safely. He gives Youngjin a grateful nod, pocketing his phone securely. This is more than enough to help nail them.
“S’pose I’m done here, then” Youngjin whispers weakly, starting to drift off. His eyes fall shut, leaning back into his pillow and he exhales one more time before going completely still, just like that.
Kyungsoo swallows, taking the rest of Jongin’s hand into his own and squeezes it tighter. They stand there a few more seconds before leaving, aware that someone is still on their way there.
It’s a quiet ride home, and they’re both lost for words when they get back inside the apartment. Jongin immediately heads into the bathroom and Kyungsoo hears the shower running.
He settles back on his laptop again, staring at all the old documents and wondering where ‘Rindigo’ comes in. He tries cross referencing the word with locations and coordinates but he comes up empty. Trying to unscramble the letters into different words doesn’t work either.
Jongin emerges from the bathroom, wiping the back of his neck with a towel, sweeping his wet bangs out of his face, looking much fresher now. He settles down beside him and Kyungsoo smells the ginger scent of his shampoo.
“Anything?”
Kyungsoo shakes his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Can’t find any links to this ‘Rindigo’ word.”
Jongin sighs through his nose, leaning down to slump on Kyungsoo’s shoulder and Kyungsoo forgets about the word for a moment, distracted by the proximity and Jongin’s warmth against his side.
“Honestly, it just sounds like some weird nickname.”
Against his better judgement, Kyungsoo nearly leans down to press his lips into Jongin’s hair until his words suddenly ring clear in his ears.
“Wait, what?”
Jongin straightens up, blinking at him.
“The word,” he says, jutting his chin out at the screen where the word is displayed. “I just thought it sounded like a nickname for something.”
“Holy shit,” Kyungsoo gasps, kicking himself for not seeing how obvious it is. He pulls up Seungsoo’s reports on the fund transfers and tracks it through the timeline Youngjin mentioned, cross-referencing it against the word ‘Rindigo’ in the database. The result shows up on the screen in seconds.
“It’s a shell company,” Kyungsoo gapes in disbelief, digging deeper to unravel the rest of the thread. “That’s where the funds are being laundered through.”
“Who owns it?” Jongin asks and Kyungsoo is already on it, trying to find who it’s signed to. The name shows up at the bottom of the page a number of clicks later.
Yun Sangjun.
Jongin’s jaw drops, gaping at the screen. “Holy fuck. Isn’t that-”
“The Minister of International Trade,” Kyungsoo ends breathlessly, stunned by how deep within the government this goes. He’s seen this guy all over the news, meeting with important foreign officials and signing deals with other countries and nations. He’s credited with bring a new, high level of modernity and development for their country, praised for all his work overseas. There’s a whole line of dirty government officials and employees connected to this, including probably at least half the board in the general hospital. After all, he’s the one who funded the development of the hospital in the first place.
Jongin looks at him wordlessly with hope in his eyes, an edge of triumphance in his smile and Kyungsoo beams back at him. They’ve finally got it.
Part 3