Midnight and Dawn (1/13)
Title: Midnight and Dawn (1/13)
Authors: e and hopeandmemory
Rating: NC-17 (for sex and violence)
Overall Word Count: 36283
Warnings: Whatever you'd reasonably expect to see on western television in a crime drama will be found in this fic. If you are easily triggered by material referenced (but rarely explicitly shown) in these kinds of programs, you might want to tread carefully.
Summary: In 2006, Kim Heechul put Kim Youngwoon behind bars. He became a legend almost immediately--the guy who watched Star King instead of doing work, drank more than his fair share of the shitty office coffee, and managed to drive off every partner he'd ever been assigned. And then in 2009, Kim Jungmo joins the force, a new case leaves Special Ops Department 1315 grasping helplessly at straws, and everything changes. Heechul/Jungmo
Authors' Notes: This fic is complete. One chapter will be posted every day for the next thirteen days.
This story was inspired by and is dedicated to the lovely _harmlessthings .
I.
After the legendary capture of UrsaCorp Industries’s CEO Kim Youngwoon by an almost ingenious use of subterfuge, pop music, and crossdressing, Kim Heechul was promoted three pay grades. That was, of course, to be expected, and Department 1315 hosted a party in his honor. Even stingy Lieutenant Lee Hyukjae caved and commissioned an ice-sculpture for the occasion. The case had taken over five years to close; everyone was in the mood to celebrate.
What was totally unexpected, however, was the hurried transfer of Heechul's partner, Jay Kim, to the administrative department (aka "The Basement"). For weeks after, Kim Heechul lounged about the office, holding court by the floor's water-cooler, and spreading various and contradictory rumors about Jay's personal life, work habits, and sexual proclivities. No one knew quite what to believe, and even the department's resident gossips gave the whole thing up as yet another mysterious inside job and moved on.
And yet, ever after, any individual assigned to join Kim Heechul in any fieldwork exercise had a shocking change of heart and quit the force soon thereafter, new recruits and senior staff alike.
That is, until July 2009, when Kim Jungmo joined the force. And then everything changed.
--
The day Lee Hyukjae calls Heechul into his office begins like most other days in the Police Department do: someone has called in a tip about the jewelry thief making his rounds around the neighborhood, Heechul has proclaimed very loudly that the dog did it (he was right, once, and has never let anyone forget how they mocked him for his suggestion), and someone drew the lousy straw of going to check it out. Choi Siwon, this time.
"Heechul, the boss wants to see you," the secretary says in his typically impossible to understand accent. Heechul sometimes wonders aloud why the floor's translator is also Hyukjae's personal assistant, but the guy ignores him. Or possibly doesn't understand. Either way, Han Geng seems perpetually immune to Heechul.
So Heechul strolls over to Lee Hyukjae's stereotypically hideous excuse for an office (always smelling vaguely of eau du sock), shuts the door behind him and lounges gracefully against a wall, because there is someone else in the chair facing Hyukjae's desk. Someone blond. Someone who Heechul has never seen before.
"Heechul, take a seat. I have two."
"Both of which seem to be occupied, actually. One by this guy," Heechul jabs his finger at the newcomer, "and the other by paperwork." Heechul shrugs almost apologetically, but everyone, especially Lee Hyukjae, knows that Heechul apologizes as often as the Moon become sentient and starts throwing disco parties in the sky.
Hyukjae sighs. "Right. Well. Let me introduce you to our latest addition to the force--Kim Jungmo. He's just graduated the institute's training program--first in his class, actually, with scores to rival Satoshi Ohno's." Lee Hyukjae paused for a moment, observing the customary thirty seconds of silence when discussing the best agent the SM Police Force had ever had. He'd left to join a boyband called Arashi, of all things, which Hyukjae claimed was a cover for a massive inside exposé of Johnny's Entertainment, because everyone knew that Ohno was much smarter than he appeared on television. Heechul thought that even two bricks could more competently answer interview questions.
"Regardless," Hyukjae continues, voice oddly nasal, "he'll be your new partner for fieldwork. And from now on, you'll also be training him, getting him up-to-date on all of our ongoing cases, and teaching him the rules of the office." Hyukjae's brow furrows and then shakes his head. "Scratch that, you don't follow any of the rules. I'll get someone else to go over those." Hyukjae presses the intercom button on his phone. "Geng? Can you call Siwon in?"
"He's just left. Checking out that tip we got this morning."
"All right. Donghae?"
"He's in one of his Moods, so he’s just coming back from practice at the firing range." Donghae had lost his father, 1315's previous lieutenant, during a particularly tricky undercover mission. Sometimes he couldn't forgive himself for it, even if no one blamed Donghae for breaking cover. Inevitable, they said.
"Right. Uhm. Sungmin?"
"I'll send him in."
Sungmin saunters through the door, clothing slightly disheveled. "You wanted to see me, boss?"
Hyukjae winces. "Yeah. Take Jungmo here and run through the rulebook with him, okay?"
"Sure thing."
Jungmo stands, turns around, and Heechul finally gets a good look at the boy--he has a round, sullen face, doesn't look much older than twenty-five, and a head of shocking bleach-blond hair. He tilts his head courteously toward Heechul and leaves without a word.
"He's a bit quiet," Heechul says when the door closes behind them.
"It'll be good for you. Now sit. I am really sick of having to replace staff members every few weeks, you know."
"You could just confine me to my desk? That way I won't need a partner?"
"But you just eat lollipops and watch variety shows online all day. Illegally, I might add. You do no work whatsoever. You haven't even solved a case since we put Youngwoon behind bars."
"I predicted that the dog did it in the museum murder."
"You pulled that out of your ass, Heechul. Now listen. Jungmo is going to be your partner. You will work well and productively together, and I won't have to tell Park Jungsoo that I've lost another staff member to you ever again."
"You know, it isn't my fault if he quits. He could just see the light, realize the force isn't really what he's always dreamed it was."
"Oh no he won't. This kid has balls. But regardless, if he quits, you'll be let go."
Heechul blinks. "Excuse me. You won't fire me, I was the one who put Youngwoon behind bars. Practically single-handedly, too. I'm a legend."
"You'll be an ex-legend. And everyone will like the story a bit more if they don't have to see how depressing a figure the real Kim Heechul cuts, how much coffee he drinks, and how little work he actually does. Now get out of my office. Seeing you has turned exactly three of my remaining black hairs grey and I need to calm down."
Heechul examines his nails, sighing dramatically. "I can't believe you pulled me away from Strong Heart for this. Your melodrama gets really boring after the first few times, you know. If you interrupt my fabulous life of leisure again, I swear you'll regret it."
"Regret what? Hiring you? Oh believe me, I already do."
--
Lee Hyukjae is a total bastard, Heechul thinks as he returns to his desk. Sungmin is still MIA, presumably towing Jungmo around and showing him the layout of the building. They’d moved to the nine-level structure just after Heechul had been recruited, so it still gleams in places and looks almost overwhelmingly impressive.
The top of the building was ironically known as The Basement, since all of the administrative departments (or the “unskilled laborers,” according to Heechul) were housed upstairs. The only person upstairs he deigned to acknowledge was Jessica, the head of HR, who had almost the same outlook on her job as he did, save the fact that she actually did what was asked of her on a regular basis. The other half of the seventh floor was reserved for the Chief of Police, a complete basket case called Park Jungsoo, and his personal assistant Seo Joohyun (who had a fabulous wardrobe, unlike the majority of the force, which sort of made up for her being a psychotic bitch. Heechul often told her that, which was apparently why Jessica Jung’s position was created in the first place).
Sandwiched between The Basement and Homicide was Department 1315, SMPD’s Special Operations team (i.e. the only department which somehow seemed to always get shafted in terms of the coffee budget. Heechul has always suspected that Lieutenant Hyukjae pocketed the difference. I mean, really, Nescafé? ). There were only eight people in the entire office (including the illiterate Chinese PA, Han Geng) but they got a whole floor to themselves because they were Actually Fucking Important and were given Real Guns.
Homicide was led by a guy everyone called Kangta who was totally crushing on Lieutenant Victoria Song from SVU on the third floor. Even if it hadn’t initially been true, Heechul had made perfectly sure that everyone knew and made their first few dates as awkward as humanly possible by intercepting the flowers Kangta was sending her with the help of Kim Kibum in reception. Heechul sort of liked the kid, actually, for all that he dressed like Heechul’s grandmother (surprisingly hard to do whilst wearing the required uniform of “all black all the time” but Kibum was clearly Special).
The fourth floor was home to the Narcotics division, headed by Boa Kwon. Since Narcotics mainly kept to themselves, Heechul didn’t have much of a problem with the Lieutenant he never saw, but her PA, Lee Jinki, was a well-known candidate for the Darwin Awards and managed to embroil the entire force in Huge Personal Crises but was apparently indispensable because he was, allegedly, good at the tiny amount of shit PAs had to do. Her reporting sergeant was a try-hard beefcake called Choi Minho who was desperate for a promotion to 1315 but was clearly too brain-dead to make the jump in rank.
SVU ran the third floor with the highest number of fabulous upper thighs in the entire force, save one pair: Victoria Song’s PA. Henry Lau was the only male member of the taskforce in charge of responding to sexual assault, kidnapping, rape, and related calls. According to people who gave more of a shit than Heechul, the girls were professional, fierce, and dedicated. In other words, supremely uninteresting gossip material.
The vice squad took up the second floor and most of the building’s weight allowance was diverted there thanks to Lieutenant Shindong’s housewife/PA Kim Ryeowook. Ryeowook seemed to think that one of his professional responsibilities was ensuring that the force would have to buy wider chairs and brought in enough food to feed the entire building every day. He clearly never ate any of it himself, judging by his overly slender, girlish frame. The guy made Heechul extraordinarily uncomfortable, because no guy should look like he could impersonate his little sister without even changing into a dress.
The worst part of Heechul’s day was undoubtedly when he had to walk into the building. Traffic took up half of the first floor because everyone secretly wished they’d just give up and get the fuck out. Heechul’s animosity was completely unbiased, of course, and had nothing to do with the obnoxious way they’d fined him when he got flagged for testing his SLK-R171 Mercedes’ maximum horsepower. Sadly, despite his best efforts to drown them in piles of unsigned hate mail, the Life Trolls had trolled on, issuing speeding citations and summarily ruining people’s lives. The department was run by Lieutenant Kim Jonghyun who had been fucking his PA, Shin Sekyung, since day one. No one had needed a memo from Heechul to tell them that.
The underground portion of the building was comprised of two levels: the actual basement for the manual laborers masquerading as IT and Communication specialists, and the gymnasium; and the sub-basement for the indoor shooting range and weapons arsenal, monitored by a sleepy-eyed chick called Amber Liu who luckily never said anything about the extraordinary amount of time Heechul and Donghae spent down there.
Reflexively, Heechul’s eyes snap to Donghae’s desk. The boy is bent over, studiously completing a round of paperwork with his right hand, while his left index finger obsessively practices the slide from safety gauge to trigger. Heechul turns back to his computer screen uncomfortably, stomach churning. He knows that gesture; he remembers the day Donghae showed it to him. But while he’s often watched Donghae practice on a real gun, seeing him subconsciously mimic the movement always feels unsettling and voyeuristic.
--
By the time Sungmin gets back with Jungmo, Heechul’s been e-mailed with a case file and a location. That’s the real problem with having a partner, he decides. Suddenly everyone thinks you’re going to pitch in. He cracks his knuckles and prepares to terrorize the fuck out of the new guy.
“We’ve got a case,” Heechul says loftily, chucking him the printed files and his car keys. Jungmo manages to drop both of them in quick succession. “And by the way, you do the driving.”
“Heechul doesn’t do speed limits,” Sungmin explains. “He takes public transportation to work and just leaves his car here.”
“It’s not a stick-shift, is it?” Jungmo asks Heechul, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I can’t drive stick.”
“Mercedes doesn’t even make stick-shift cars, idiot.”
“Oh that’s cool. All I’ve got is a beat-up Hyundai. Well. Used to. I let my sister have it. Yours is probably a better investment, ours breaks down all the time--”
“Just so you know,” Heechul interrupts, “this is probably the most expensive thing you have ever touched and if you so much as scratch the paint I will make you buy me a new one.”
“Heechul also doesn’t do people,” Sungmin adds, laughing.
--
Jungmo drives absurdly carefully, and it takes him ten minutes to park, reversing and pulling back and carefully accounting for every single angle before checking the address four times nervously, folding and unfolding the small To Do list he’d written himself in the office, and putting the car in park. “Do we need to bring anything?”
Heechul stares at him blankly. “We?”
“Yeah. Inside. I remember that domestic abuse cases are particularly delicate--we have to get careful recordings and photographs and statements, right?”
Heechul unbuckles his seatbelt and taps his finger on the dashboard. “Jungmo. I don’t think you quite understand how this works. We do not do anything. I don’t care if you go inside and take photos or if you drive around the block eight times and then turn back and just tell Hyukjae that you took the photos. But I will be sitting here inside of this nicely air-conditioned car watching the rest of this episode of ‘Goong.’”
Jungmo opens his mouth.
“And if you spoil it for me I will actually kill you. With my gun. Just so you know.”
Jungmo’s mouth clicks shut. After a moment, he clears his throat and tries again, weakly. “But this is our job? You’re also an officer. And didn’t the Lieutenant just say that he’d fire--”
“I am Kim Heechul,” Heechul corrects. “I am a legend. I don’t need to work. And they would never fire me.”
“But you’re the senior partner on--”
“Kid,” and Heechul’s voice is low and serious, “shut up.”
After a moment, Jungmo gets out of the car. He walks into the house nervously, tapping his pen against his jeans’ pocket, and smiles at the woman who lets him into the house. He’s nervous, Heechul thinks, but not angry. Recently, his partners had all been wannabe 1315 transfers, and had been horrified by Heechul’s refusal to accompany them during calls. They’d whined about protocol, the Code, and Heechul had given them scathing glances and just laughed. But Jungmo was too new to care, apparently. Fine. New tactic, then.
On his screen, Yoon Eun Hye begins yet another episode by acting like a five-year-old child, and Joo Ji Hoon gets to ride around in a limo. Lucky bastard, Heechul thinks. He’d have been the best idol ever.
Jungmo clambers back into the car around the half-hour mark.
“Did it go well,” Heechul asks breezily.
“It was okay.” Jungmo leans back in the seat and Heechul sees that his hands are trembling. “I’m not good at dealing with people, to be honest. It was my biggest problem at the academy.”
Heechul hums noncommittally.
“I’d hoped you would come in and help me. I thought you’d show me what to do. Were you testing me? What do you say to people like that? People who are too scared to be honest, maybe, about something really horrible that happened to them because they don’t want their friends and neighbors to judge them. So they cling to a fantasy until it’s all too much and--”
“Shut up,” Heechul spits, feeling his throat close. “I couldn’t give the smallest fuck about your whining. Get used to it. Most of our cases are like this. People and their stupid problems.”
“How could you--”
“Just drive.” Heechul stares moodily out the window, headphones on, and watches the world blur past. His hand tightens over his iPhone.
--
When they get back to the office, they find that Hyukjae has called for a meeting. Heechul crumples up the note left on his desk and sighs. “Melodramatic fool.”
“Are you coming?” Jungmo stops at Heechul’s desk, clutching his memo almost nervously. He gestures toward the line of people filing into the conference room and clears his throat, adding, “meeting starts in five minutes.”
Heechul sighs, checks that his iPhone has enough battery for an hour of gaming, and joins the queue.
The conference room is just a glorified office room with too many chairs, not nearly enough space, and a whiteboard jammed into the corner. Heechul grabs his usual seat towards the back of the room, opposite Hyukjae, so he can play Angry Birds underneath the table despite knowing that everyone can see him.
Hyukjae clears his throat. “As you’ve all probably noticed, we’ve had some staffing changes in the last few weeks.”
“Yeah, those whiners are gone,” Kyuhyun sniggers, typing something into a command window on the computer in the corner.
Heechul pauses the game and turns around. “Kyuhyun. What are you even doing here? You don’t even work for 1315.”
“And you don’t do any work. It’s a fair trade. Plus I’m fixing another laptop that you fucked up.”
“He just likes having fresh gossip,” Changmin offers.
“You don’t work for this department either,” Hyukjae replies weakly. “You both work in IT. This is confidential material.”
Kyuhyun stares. “Are you serious. Nothing 1315 does is confidential. Heechul mass e-mails the entire force after every meeting to let us know what’s happening.”
Hyukjae takes a few deep breaths and pinches the bridge of his nose helplessly. “Right,” he says. “Well. Changmin. Why don’t you make coffee or something.”
“I’m not paid to do that, you realize. Actually, I’m not paid at all. I have never been paid. And I’ve worked here for a year.”
“You’re an intern,” Kyuhyun says dismissively. “No one cares.”
Siwon clears his throat. “Can we stop the fighting, please? ‘Whoever hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him.’ First Epistle of John, chapter three, verse fifteen.”
Half of the people in the room roll their eyes. Jungmo looks lost. Heechul just stares. “You do realize that we’re all murderers right? Like, that being our job and all.”
Siwon whimpers.
“Right,” Hyukjae says after a long pause, drawing out the word. “Well. JYJ have officially terminated their employment at SMPD, so we’re a little short-staffed, which means everyone is really going to have to pull their weight around here. And I mean everyone.”
Heechul can feel Hyukjae’s eyes boring into his forehead while everyone breaks out into furious whispers, comparing case-loads. Sungmin doesn’t bother whispering.
“And they think we’re paid any better? Man, I just can’t believe that Homicide, Vice, and Narcotics can’t handle their own problems--why do we have to take up the slack?”
“Everyone thinks they left because we kicked Jung Yunho out, and it’s not like we’ve got much going on, otherwise.”
Heechul freezes. He remembers Jung Yunho excruciatingly well. The guy had been Jay’s first replacement, and they’d been sent out to recover their contact from the Youngwoon mission. Someone had called in a tip saying that they’d sighted Kim Kibum (not the receptionist, who everyone just called Key), and given the location. This would finally be the end of Youngwoon, Heechul had thought. Donghae would be able to meet the guy whose fault his father’s death really was, and everything would go back to normal.
But the mission had gone terribly wrong when Yunho had decided that Heechul had enough glory to his name and locked him in his own car. “It doesn’t look like there’s anyone here. I’m just going to have a look around,” Yunho had said, sticking the keys in his pockets and grabbing his rifle. But it was a trap--and Yunho had walked straight into it. Three men had taken him down in seconds, and they’d rounded on the car where Heechul was sitting, completely defenseless. He’d radioed in for help and then clutched at the seat. Yunho had even taken his gun.
They’d fired on the car, glass shattering around Heechul as he’d remembered Youngwoon, nights alone, whiskey and shots of tequila and memories that weren’t his, that were hers, and he flattened himself against his seat, throwing packets of pretzels and popcorn at his attackers. They’d come closer and closer, lowering their weapons. He thought he’d even heard one of them call his--her--their name. Heehee. Is that you?
Another shot had rang through the air, and one of Heechul’s assailants had dropped to the ground. A second later, his partner had followed suit. Heechul had peered out the window to see Sungmin running toward the car.
“Heechul,” Sungmin had gasped, grabbing at him. Heechul couldn’t tell whether the car was shaking or whether that was him. And then he’d blacked out.
“Don’t you dare assign me to someone else,” Heechul had told Hyukjae later, when the shock had worn off and Sungmin was beating the crap out of Yunho in the lobby. “I’m done with partners.”
“The Code mandates that all field agents--”
“So stick me to paperwork. But don’t fucking pull this again.”
But Hyukjae had ignored him, paying more attention to Seohyun’s memos about wasted potential and stuck him with new recruits, newly promoted agents, transfers, and even senior staff. They’d all folded eventually.
“He was an idiot,” Sungmin spits. “I was this close to killing him.”
Jongwoon nods. “And I’ve got a huge backload of reading to do. The military sent over a box of files on the latest explosives being manufactured, plus the new disposal protocol, and the switch-over is in less than a month--ridiculous. You’d think they’d give us more notice!”
Heechul plays with his phone underneath the desk and ignores the lot of them. Jungmo leans in and nudges Heechul’s arm.
“Who are these JYJ people?”
“Ask them yourself.” Heechul slings another bird at the wooden tower and curses under his breath when he misses one of the evil pigs. He has only a vague recollection of the JYJ team--they’d started around the same time as Heechul, but filed a lawsuit a few months into his undercover mission, furious that despite their seniority and almost flawless record, they’d never been promoted past entry-level salaries. By the time Heechul returned to the force, two and a half years later, huge shifts in personnel had occurred. Lee Soo Man was no longer the director of SM Police Force, and somehow an aging neurotic madman called Park Jungsoo had smooth-talked his way into the position, despite completely lacking any management capabilities whatsoever (as Seohyun once said, all Jungsoo knows how to do is paint walls white and hide under desks, whimpering helplessly). Luckily for Jungsoo (and everyone else, for that matter), Seohyun abandoned her post in Operations, waltzed into Jungsoo’s office with three books, a desk calendar, and a gigantic expandable file folder, and rescued him from under his desk where he was trying to paint the entirety of his office white. With white-out. He hired her on the spot, and the office had run as smoothly as it could (with Jungsoo as chief, anyway) ever since.
In two and a half years Heechul has managed to miss thousands of small changes, tiny shifts in power and personality, and has come back to an entirely new cast of people, a new recruit all over again. The first time he’d entered the office, he was no one. Just another new recruit to break in with thousands of unpaid overtime hours.
This time he came back as one of the most highly paid staff members. His name was whispered between cubicles and mentioned in conjunction with medals and awards. Everyone wanted to know how he’d done it--how he’d brought Kim Youngwoon to justice, when, for five years, every other mission had failed.
Heechul had known better than to tell them, and when Youngwoon had taken the proffered plea bargain, knowing that he could never have convinced a jury of his innocence, the story had been buried, files locked away.
He had returned as king of the water cooler. He started every nasty rumor, and spilled every single secret. He was the reason why SMPD had to ban Twitter, and why Kyuhyun even needed an intern--to keep up with the massive amount of damage Heechul was inflicting on the force’s computer security systems.
But Sungmin had never been this outgoing, and Heechul had to hear third-hand about the coming out party where Sungmin had decked a coworker in Narcotics for mocking his bisexuality. Siwon was a completely new addition to the team, as was Han Geng. Donghae was, as expected, a completely different boy--nothing like the cheery, enthusiastic, but sometimes sloppy trainee that he’d been under his father’s direction.
Heechul tries to focus. “I just want to know where they got the office space from,” he drawls. “Certainly not on the salaries Hyukjae pays us.”
Hyukjae flushes. "Jung Yunho, uhm, apparently owns a huge building downtown. Which he is renting to them."
Heechul cackles. “That idiot owns a building? The guy who called himself ‘U-Know Yunho’ and talked in the third person?” He tries not to let the name bother him.
“It’s not like your English is any better,” Han Geng mutters.
“Han Geng,” Hyukjae sighs, “please speak Korean during group meetings. So everyone can understand you.”
“I hate Korea.”
“I miss Satoshi,” Hyukjae continues, staring at the ceiling mournfully. “He spoke Japanese and Chinese and English and Korean.”
“Zhou Mi does too, you realize,” Han Geng protests uselessly.
“And he never interrupted me.”
Everyone falls silent, heads bowed slightly.
After exactly thirty seconds, Seohyun pipes up, waving the original copy of a memo from Jungsoo that she’d transcribed for everyone, given his propensity for writing in white ink on white paper. “Speaking of JYJ, the Chief would like to remind you that ‘I love you all very, very much, and if anyone, anyone is having issues and wants to talk to me, my door is always open. And you are all still contracted to SMPD. All of you.’” She looks around the table, her eyes narrowing sternly. “If any of you take him up on that offer to talk, I can personally assure you that you will see the error of your ways reflected on your next paycheck.”
It was common knowledge around Department 1315 that Seohyun had an in with the payroll manager, Sooyoung, who had legs up to her neck and once drop-kicked Kim Jongwoon, 1315’s explosives expert, for insinuating that she was “da bomb” and needing some “dismantling.” If the gossip was true, and Seohyun had managed to talk her way into quarterly rather than annual pay raises for herself, she could certainly wrangle a salary cut for anyone who put any amount of stress on Jungsoo.
Everyone is silent. Seohyun sits back in her chair and returns to making slightly edited notes of the meeting for the Chief to read. Heechul had once been very amused to find that Jungsoo apparently believes that they all sit and share deep feelings of friendship and love before the start of every session.
Hyukjae rattles off a new list of cases, reminds everyone to try not to consume more than their fair share of the coffee (“We will have to resort to rationing! Remember The Budget!”), and slowly the meeting devolves into groups making evening plans and trading weekend stories. Jungmo is quiet and fiddles with his hands, turning to Heechul occasionally, opening his mouth and then shutting it desperately. Heechul would indulge him, really, if he cared.
Too bad he was more interested in flying solo.
→ II
Authors: e and hopeandmemory
Rating: NC-17 (for sex and violence)
Overall Word Count: 36283
Warnings: Whatever you'd reasonably expect to see on western television in a crime drama will be found in this fic. If you are easily triggered by material referenced (but rarely explicitly shown) in these kinds of programs, you might want to tread carefully.
Summary: In 2006, Kim Heechul put Kim Youngwoon behind bars. He became a legend almost immediately--the guy who watched Star King instead of doing work, drank more than his fair share of the shitty office coffee, and managed to drive off every partner he'd ever been assigned. And then in 2009, Kim Jungmo joins the force, a new case leaves Special Ops Department 1315 grasping helplessly at straws, and everything changes. Heechul/Jungmo
Authors' Notes: This fic is complete. One chapter will be posted every day for the next thirteen days.
This story was inspired by and is dedicated to the lovely _harmlessthings .
I.
After the legendary capture of UrsaCorp Industries’s CEO Kim Youngwoon by an almost ingenious use of subterfuge, pop music, and crossdressing, Kim Heechul was promoted three pay grades. That was, of course, to be expected, and Department 1315 hosted a party in his honor. Even stingy Lieutenant Lee Hyukjae caved and commissioned an ice-sculpture for the occasion. The case had taken over five years to close; everyone was in the mood to celebrate.
What was totally unexpected, however, was the hurried transfer of Heechul's partner, Jay Kim, to the administrative department (aka "The Basement"). For weeks after, Kim Heechul lounged about the office, holding court by the floor's water-cooler, and spreading various and contradictory rumors about Jay's personal life, work habits, and sexual proclivities. No one knew quite what to believe, and even the department's resident gossips gave the whole thing up as yet another mysterious inside job and moved on.
And yet, ever after, any individual assigned to join Kim Heechul in any fieldwork exercise had a shocking change of heart and quit the force soon thereafter, new recruits and senior staff alike.
That is, until July 2009, when Kim Jungmo joined the force. And then everything changed.
--
The day Lee Hyukjae calls Heechul into his office begins like most other days in the Police Department do: someone has called in a tip about the jewelry thief making his rounds around the neighborhood, Heechul has proclaimed very loudly that the dog did it (he was right, once, and has never let anyone forget how they mocked him for his suggestion), and someone drew the lousy straw of going to check it out. Choi Siwon, this time.
"Heechul, the boss wants to see you," the secretary says in his typically impossible to understand accent. Heechul sometimes wonders aloud why the floor's translator is also Hyukjae's personal assistant, but the guy ignores him. Or possibly doesn't understand. Either way, Han Geng seems perpetually immune to Heechul.
So Heechul strolls over to Lee Hyukjae's stereotypically hideous excuse for an office (always smelling vaguely of eau du sock), shuts the door behind him and lounges gracefully against a wall, because there is someone else in the chair facing Hyukjae's desk. Someone blond. Someone who Heechul has never seen before.
"Heechul, take a seat. I have two."
"Both of which seem to be occupied, actually. One by this guy," Heechul jabs his finger at the newcomer, "and the other by paperwork." Heechul shrugs almost apologetically, but everyone, especially Lee Hyukjae, knows that Heechul apologizes as often as the Moon become sentient and starts throwing disco parties in the sky.
Hyukjae sighs. "Right. Well. Let me introduce you to our latest addition to the force--Kim Jungmo. He's just graduated the institute's training program--first in his class, actually, with scores to rival Satoshi Ohno's." Lee Hyukjae paused for a moment, observing the customary thirty seconds of silence when discussing the best agent the SM Police Force had ever had. He'd left to join a boyband called Arashi, of all things, which Hyukjae claimed was a cover for a massive inside exposé of Johnny's Entertainment, because everyone knew that Ohno was much smarter than he appeared on television. Heechul thought that even two bricks could more competently answer interview questions.
"Regardless," Hyukjae continues, voice oddly nasal, "he'll be your new partner for fieldwork. And from now on, you'll also be training him, getting him up-to-date on all of our ongoing cases, and teaching him the rules of the office." Hyukjae's brow furrows and then shakes his head. "Scratch that, you don't follow any of the rules. I'll get someone else to go over those." Hyukjae presses the intercom button on his phone. "Geng? Can you call Siwon in?"
"He's just left. Checking out that tip we got this morning."
"All right. Donghae?"
"He's in one of his Moods, so he’s just coming back from practice at the firing range." Donghae had lost his father, 1315's previous lieutenant, during a particularly tricky undercover mission. Sometimes he couldn't forgive himself for it, even if no one blamed Donghae for breaking cover. Inevitable, they said.
"Right. Uhm. Sungmin?"
"I'll send him in."
Sungmin saunters through the door, clothing slightly disheveled. "You wanted to see me, boss?"
Hyukjae winces. "Yeah. Take Jungmo here and run through the rulebook with him, okay?"
"Sure thing."
Jungmo stands, turns around, and Heechul finally gets a good look at the boy--he has a round, sullen face, doesn't look much older than twenty-five, and a head of shocking bleach-blond hair. He tilts his head courteously toward Heechul and leaves without a word.
"He's a bit quiet," Heechul says when the door closes behind them.
"It'll be good for you. Now sit. I am really sick of having to replace staff members every few weeks, you know."
"You could just confine me to my desk? That way I won't need a partner?"
"But you just eat lollipops and watch variety shows online all day. Illegally, I might add. You do no work whatsoever. You haven't even solved a case since we put Youngwoon behind bars."
"I predicted that the dog did it in the museum murder."
"You pulled that out of your ass, Heechul. Now listen. Jungmo is going to be your partner. You will work well and productively together, and I won't have to tell Park Jungsoo that I've lost another staff member to you ever again."
"You know, it isn't my fault if he quits. He could just see the light, realize the force isn't really what he's always dreamed it was."
"Oh no he won't. This kid has balls. But regardless, if he quits, you'll be let go."
Heechul blinks. "Excuse me. You won't fire me, I was the one who put Youngwoon behind bars. Practically single-handedly, too. I'm a legend."
"You'll be an ex-legend. And everyone will like the story a bit more if they don't have to see how depressing a figure the real Kim Heechul cuts, how much coffee he drinks, and how little work he actually does. Now get out of my office. Seeing you has turned exactly three of my remaining black hairs grey and I need to calm down."
Heechul examines his nails, sighing dramatically. "I can't believe you pulled me away from Strong Heart for this. Your melodrama gets really boring after the first few times, you know. If you interrupt my fabulous life of leisure again, I swear you'll regret it."
"Regret what? Hiring you? Oh believe me, I already do."
--
Lee Hyukjae is a total bastard, Heechul thinks as he returns to his desk. Sungmin is still MIA, presumably towing Jungmo around and showing him the layout of the building. They’d moved to the nine-level structure just after Heechul had been recruited, so it still gleams in places and looks almost overwhelmingly impressive.
The top of the building was ironically known as The Basement, since all of the administrative departments (or the “unskilled laborers,” according to Heechul) were housed upstairs. The only person upstairs he deigned to acknowledge was Jessica, the head of HR, who had almost the same outlook on her job as he did, save the fact that she actually did what was asked of her on a regular basis. The other half of the seventh floor was reserved for the Chief of Police, a complete basket case called Park Jungsoo, and his personal assistant Seo Joohyun (who had a fabulous wardrobe, unlike the majority of the force, which sort of made up for her being a psychotic bitch. Heechul often told her that, which was apparently why Jessica Jung’s position was created in the first place).
Sandwiched between The Basement and Homicide was Department 1315, SMPD’s Special Operations team (i.e. the only department which somehow seemed to always get shafted in terms of the coffee budget. Heechul has always suspected that Lieutenant Hyukjae pocketed the difference. I mean, really, Nescafé? ). There were only eight people in the entire office (including the illiterate Chinese PA, Han Geng) but they got a whole floor to themselves because they were Actually Fucking Important and were given Real Guns.
Homicide was led by a guy everyone called Kangta who was totally crushing on Lieutenant Victoria Song from SVU on the third floor. Even if it hadn’t initially been true, Heechul had made perfectly sure that everyone knew and made their first few dates as awkward as humanly possible by intercepting the flowers Kangta was sending her with the help of Kim Kibum in reception. Heechul sort of liked the kid, actually, for all that he dressed like Heechul’s grandmother (surprisingly hard to do whilst wearing the required uniform of “all black all the time” but Kibum was clearly Special).
The fourth floor was home to the Narcotics division, headed by Boa Kwon. Since Narcotics mainly kept to themselves, Heechul didn’t have much of a problem with the Lieutenant he never saw, but her PA, Lee Jinki, was a well-known candidate for the Darwin Awards and managed to embroil the entire force in Huge Personal Crises but was apparently indispensable because he was, allegedly, good at the tiny amount of shit PAs had to do. Her reporting sergeant was a try-hard beefcake called Choi Minho who was desperate for a promotion to 1315 but was clearly too brain-dead to make the jump in rank.
SVU ran the third floor with the highest number of fabulous upper thighs in the entire force, save one pair: Victoria Song’s PA. Henry Lau was the only male member of the taskforce in charge of responding to sexual assault, kidnapping, rape, and related calls. According to people who gave more of a shit than Heechul, the girls were professional, fierce, and dedicated. In other words, supremely uninteresting gossip material.
The vice squad took up the second floor and most of the building’s weight allowance was diverted there thanks to Lieutenant Shindong’s housewife/PA Kim Ryeowook. Ryeowook seemed to think that one of his professional responsibilities was ensuring that the force would have to buy wider chairs and brought in enough food to feed the entire building every day. He clearly never ate any of it himself, judging by his overly slender, girlish frame. The guy made Heechul extraordinarily uncomfortable, because no guy should look like he could impersonate his little sister without even changing into a dress.
The worst part of Heechul’s day was undoubtedly when he had to walk into the building. Traffic took up half of the first floor because everyone secretly wished they’d just give up and get the fuck out. Heechul’s animosity was completely unbiased, of course, and had nothing to do with the obnoxious way they’d fined him when he got flagged for testing his SLK-R171 Mercedes’ maximum horsepower. Sadly, despite his best efforts to drown them in piles of unsigned hate mail, the Life Trolls had trolled on, issuing speeding citations and summarily ruining people’s lives. The department was run by Lieutenant Kim Jonghyun who had been fucking his PA, Shin Sekyung, since day one. No one had needed a memo from Heechul to tell them that.
The underground portion of the building was comprised of two levels: the actual basement for the manual laborers masquerading as IT and Communication specialists, and the gymnasium; and the sub-basement for the indoor shooting range and weapons arsenal, monitored by a sleepy-eyed chick called Amber Liu who luckily never said anything about the extraordinary amount of time Heechul and Donghae spent down there.
Reflexively, Heechul’s eyes snap to Donghae’s desk. The boy is bent over, studiously completing a round of paperwork with his right hand, while his left index finger obsessively practices the slide from safety gauge to trigger. Heechul turns back to his computer screen uncomfortably, stomach churning. He knows that gesture; he remembers the day Donghae showed it to him. But while he’s often watched Donghae practice on a real gun, seeing him subconsciously mimic the movement always feels unsettling and voyeuristic.
--
By the time Sungmin gets back with Jungmo, Heechul’s been e-mailed with a case file and a location. That’s the real problem with having a partner, he decides. Suddenly everyone thinks you’re going to pitch in. He cracks his knuckles and prepares to terrorize the fuck out of the new guy.
“We’ve got a case,” Heechul says loftily, chucking him the printed files and his car keys. Jungmo manages to drop both of them in quick succession. “And by the way, you do the driving.”
“Heechul doesn’t do speed limits,” Sungmin explains. “He takes public transportation to work and just leaves his car here.”
“It’s not a stick-shift, is it?” Jungmo asks Heechul, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I can’t drive stick.”
“Mercedes doesn’t even make stick-shift cars, idiot.”
“Oh that’s cool. All I’ve got is a beat-up Hyundai. Well. Used to. I let my sister have it. Yours is probably a better investment, ours breaks down all the time--”
“Just so you know,” Heechul interrupts, “this is probably the most expensive thing you have ever touched and if you so much as scratch the paint I will make you buy me a new one.”
“Heechul also doesn’t do people,” Sungmin adds, laughing.
--
Jungmo drives absurdly carefully, and it takes him ten minutes to park, reversing and pulling back and carefully accounting for every single angle before checking the address four times nervously, folding and unfolding the small To Do list he’d written himself in the office, and putting the car in park. “Do we need to bring anything?”
Heechul stares at him blankly. “We?”
“Yeah. Inside. I remember that domestic abuse cases are particularly delicate--we have to get careful recordings and photographs and statements, right?”
Heechul unbuckles his seatbelt and taps his finger on the dashboard. “Jungmo. I don’t think you quite understand how this works. We do not do anything. I don’t care if you go inside and take photos or if you drive around the block eight times and then turn back and just tell Hyukjae that you took the photos. But I will be sitting here inside of this nicely air-conditioned car watching the rest of this episode of ‘Goong.’”
Jungmo opens his mouth.
“And if you spoil it for me I will actually kill you. With my gun. Just so you know.”
Jungmo’s mouth clicks shut. After a moment, he clears his throat and tries again, weakly. “But this is our job? You’re also an officer. And didn’t the Lieutenant just say that he’d fire--”
“I am Kim Heechul,” Heechul corrects. “I am a legend. I don’t need to work. And they would never fire me.”
“But you’re the senior partner on--”
“Kid,” and Heechul’s voice is low and serious, “shut up.”
After a moment, Jungmo gets out of the car. He walks into the house nervously, tapping his pen against his jeans’ pocket, and smiles at the woman who lets him into the house. He’s nervous, Heechul thinks, but not angry. Recently, his partners had all been wannabe 1315 transfers, and had been horrified by Heechul’s refusal to accompany them during calls. They’d whined about protocol, the Code, and Heechul had given them scathing glances and just laughed. But Jungmo was too new to care, apparently. Fine. New tactic, then.
On his screen, Yoon Eun Hye begins yet another episode by acting like a five-year-old child, and Joo Ji Hoon gets to ride around in a limo. Lucky bastard, Heechul thinks. He’d have been the best idol ever.
Jungmo clambers back into the car around the half-hour mark.
“Did it go well,” Heechul asks breezily.
“It was okay.” Jungmo leans back in the seat and Heechul sees that his hands are trembling. “I’m not good at dealing with people, to be honest. It was my biggest problem at the academy.”
Heechul hums noncommittally.
“I’d hoped you would come in and help me. I thought you’d show me what to do. Were you testing me? What do you say to people like that? People who are too scared to be honest, maybe, about something really horrible that happened to them because they don’t want their friends and neighbors to judge them. So they cling to a fantasy until it’s all too much and--”
“Shut up,” Heechul spits, feeling his throat close. “I couldn’t give the smallest fuck about your whining. Get used to it. Most of our cases are like this. People and their stupid problems.”
“How could you--”
“Just drive.” Heechul stares moodily out the window, headphones on, and watches the world blur past. His hand tightens over his iPhone.
--
When they get back to the office, they find that Hyukjae has called for a meeting. Heechul crumples up the note left on his desk and sighs. “Melodramatic fool.”
“Are you coming?” Jungmo stops at Heechul’s desk, clutching his memo almost nervously. He gestures toward the line of people filing into the conference room and clears his throat, adding, “meeting starts in five minutes.”
Heechul sighs, checks that his iPhone has enough battery for an hour of gaming, and joins the queue.
The conference room is just a glorified office room with too many chairs, not nearly enough space, and a whiteboard jammed into the corner. Heechul grabs his usual seat towards the back of the room, opposite Hyukjae, so he can play Angry Birds underneath the table despite knowing that everyone can see him.
Hyukjae clears his throat. “As you’ve all probably noticed, we’ve had some staffing changes in the last few weeks.”
“Yeah, those whiners are gone,” Kyuhyun sniggers, typing something into a command window on the computer in the corner.
Heechul pauses the game and turns around. “Kyuhyun. What are you even doing here? You don’t even work for 1315.”
“And you don’t do any work. It’s a fair trade. Plus I’m fixing another laptop that you fucked up.”
“He just likes having fresh gossip,” Changmin offers.
“You don’t work for this department either,” Hyukjae replies weakly. “You both work in IT. This is confidential material.”
Kyuhyun stares. “Are you serious. Nothing 1315 does is confidential. Heechul mass e-mails the entire force after every meeting to let us know what’s happening.”
Hyukjae takes a few deep breaths and pinches the bridge of his nose helplessly. “Right,” he says. “Well. Changmin. Why don’t you make coffee or something.”
“I’m not paid to do that, you realize. Actually, I’m not paid at all. I have never been paid. And I’ve worked here for a year.”
“You’re an intern,” Kyuhyun says dismissively. “No one cares.”
Siwon clears his throat. “Can we stop the fighting, please? ‘Whoever hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him.’ First Epistle of John, chapter three, verse fifteen.”
Half of the people in the room roll their eyes. Jungmo looks lost. Heechul just stares. “You do realize that we’re all murderers right? Like, that being our job and all.”
Siwon whimpers.
“Right,” Hyukjae says after a long pause, drawing out the word. “Well. JYJ have officially terminated their employment at SMPD, so we’re a little short-staffed, which means everyone is really going to have to pull their weight around here. And I mean everyone.”
Heechul can feel Hyukjae’s eyes boring into his forehead while everyone breaks out into furious whispers, comparing case-loads. Sungmin doesn’t bother whispering.
“And they think we’re paid any better? Man, I just can’t believe that Homicide, Vice, and Narcotics can’t handle their own problems--why do we have to take up the slack?”
“Everyone thinks they left because we kicked Jung Yunho out, and it’s not like we’ve got much going on, otherwise.”
Heechul freezes. He remembers Jung Yunho excruciatingly well. The guy had been Jay’s first replacement, and they’d been sent out to recover their contact from the Youngwoon mission. Someone had called in a tip saying that they’d sighted Kim Kibum (not the receptionist, who everyone just called Key), and given the location. This would finally be the end of Youngwoon, Heechul had thought. Donghae would be able to meet the guy whose fault his father’s death really was, and everything would go back to normal.
But the mission had gone terribly wrong when Yunho had decided that Heechul had enough glory to his name and locked him in his own car. “It doesn’t look like there’s anyone here. I’m just going to have a look around,” Yunho had said, sticking the keys in his pockets and grabbing his rifle. But it was a trap--and Yunho had walked straight into it. Three men had taken him down in seconds, and they’d rounded on the car where Heechul was sitting, completely defenseless. He’d radioed in for help and then clutched at the seat. Yunho had even taken his gun.
They’d fired on the car, glass shattering around Heechul as he’d remembered Youngwoon, nights alone, whiskey and shots of tequila and memories that weren’t his, that were hers, and he flattened himself against his seat, throwing packets of pretzels and popcorn at his attackers. They’d come closer and closer, lowering their weapons. He thought he’d even heard one of them call his--her--their name. Heehee. Is that you?
Another shot had rang through the air, and one of Heechul’s assailants had dropped to the ground. A second later, his partner had followed suit. Heechul had peered out the window to see Sungmin running toward the car.
“Heechul,” Sungmin had gasped, grabbing at him. Heechul couldn’t tell whether the car was shaking or whether that was him. And then he’d blacked out.
“Don’t you dare assign me to someone else,” Heechul had told Hyukjae later, when the shock had worn off and Sungmin was beating the crap out of Yunho in the lobby. “I’m done with partners.”
“The Code mandates that all field agents--”
“So stick me to paperwork. But don’t fucking pull this again.”
But Hyukjae had ignored him, paying more attention to Seohyun’s memos about wasted potential and stuck him with new recruits, newly promoted agents, transfers, and even senior staff. They’d all folded eventually.
“He was an idiot,” Sungmin spits. “I was this close to killing him.”
Jongwoon nods. “And I’ve got a huge backload of reading to do. The military sent over a box of files on the latest explosives being manufactured, plus the new disposal protocol, and the switch-over is in less than a month--ridiculous. You’d think they’d give us more notice!”
Heechul plays with his phone underneath the desk and ignores the lot of them. Jungmo leans in and nudges Heechul’s arm.
“Who are these JYJ people?”
“Ask them yourself.” Heechul slings another bird at the wooden tower and curses under his breath when he misses one of the evil pigs. He has only a vague recollection of the JYJ team--they’d started around the same time as Heechul, but filed a lawsuit a few months into his undercover mission, furious that despite their seniority and almost flawless record, they’d never been promoted past entry-level salaries. By the time Heechul returned to the force, two and a half years later, huge shifts in personnel had occurred. Lee Soo Man was no longer the director of SM Police Force, and somehow an aging neurotic madman called Park Jungsoo had smooth-talked his way into the position, despite completely lacking any management capabilities whatsoever (as Seohyun once said, all Jungsoo knows how to do is paint walls white and hide under desks, whimpering helplessly). Luckily for Jungsoo (and everyone else, for that matter), Seohyun abandoned her post in Operations, waltzed into Jungsoo’s office with three books, a desk calendar, and a gigantic expandable file folder, and rescued him from under his desk where he was trying to paint the entirety of his office white. With white-out. He hired her on the spot, and the office had run as smoothly as it could (with Jungsoo as chief, anyway) ever since.
In two and a half years Heechul has managed to miss thousands of small changes, tiny shifts in power and personality, and has come back to an entirely new cast of people, a new recruit all over again. The first time he’d entered the office, he was no one. Just another new recruit to break in with thousands of unpaid overtime hours.
This time he came back as one of the most highly paid staff members. His name was whispered between cubicles and mentioned in conjunction with medals and awards. Everyone wanted to know how he’d done it--how he’d brought Kim Youngwoon to justice, when, for five years, every other mission had failed.
Heechul had known better than to tell them, and when Youngwoon had taken the proffered plea bargain, knowing that he could never have convinced a jury of his innocence, the story had been buried, files locked away.
He had returned as king of the water cooler. He started every nasty rumor, and spilled every single secret. He was the reason why SMPD had to ban Twitter, and why Kyuhyun even needed an intern--to keep up with the massive amount of damage Heechul was inflicting on the force’s computer security systems.
But Sungmin had never been this outgoing, and Heechul had to hear third-hand about the coming out party where Sungmin had decked a coworker in Narcotics for mocking his bisexuality. Siwon was a completely new addition to the team, as was Han Geng. Donghae was, as expected, a completely different boy--nothing like the cheery, enthusiastic, but sometimes sloppy trainee that he’d been under his father’s direction.
Heechul tries to focus. “I just want to know where they got the office space from,” he drawls. “Certainly not on the salaries Hyukjae pays us.”
Hyukjae flushes. "Jung Yunho, uhm, apparently owns a huge building downtown. Which he is renting to them."
Heechul cackles. “That idiot owns a building? The guy who called himself ‘U-Know Yunho’ and talked in the third person?” He tries not to let the name bother him.
“It’s not like your English is any better,” Han Geng mutters.
“Han Geng,” Hyukjae sighs, “please speak Korean during group meetings. So everyone can understand you.”
“I hate Korea.”
“I miss Satoshi,” Hyukjae continues, staring at the ceiling mournfully. “He spoke Japanese and Chinese and English and Korean.”
“Zhou Mi does too, you realize,” Han Geng protests uselessly.
“And he never interrupted me.”
Everyone falls silent, heads bowed slightly.
After exactly thirty seconds, Seohyun pipes up, waving the original copy of a memo from Jungsoo that she’d transcribed for everyone, given his propensity for writing in white ink on white paper. “Speaking of JYJ, the Chief would like to remind you that ‘I love you all very, very much, and if anyone, anyone is having issues and wants to talk to me, my door is always open. And you are all still contracted to SMPD. All of you.’” She looks around the table, her eyes narrowing sternly. “If any of you take him up on that offer to talk, I can personally assure you that you will see the error of your ways reflected on your next paycheck.”
It was common knowledge around Department 1315 that Seohyun had an in with the payroll manager, Sooyoung, who had legs up to her neck and once drop-kicked Kim Jongwoon, 1315’s explosives expert, for insinuating that she was “da bomb” and needing some “dismantling.” If the gossip was true, and Seohyun had managed to talk her way into quarterly rather than annual pay raises for herself, she could certainly wrangle a salary cut for anyone who put any amount of stress on Jungsoo.
Everyone is silent. Seohyun sits back in her chair and returns to making slightly edited notes of the meeting for the Chief to read. Heechul had once been very amused to find that Jungsoo apparently believes that they all sit and share deep feelings of friendship and love before the start of every session.
Hyukjae rattles off a new list of cases, reminds everyone to try not to consume more than their fair share of the coffee (“We will have to resort to rationing! Remember The Budget!”), and slowly the meeting devolves into groups making evening plans and trading weekend stories. Jungmo is quiet and fiddles with his hands, turning to Heechul occasionally, opening his mouth and then shutting it desperately. Heechul would indulge him, really, if he cared.
Too bad he was more interested in flying solo.
→ II