Chapter Text
41
Jeonghan
Pattering rain.
Cracking ice.
A voice, comforting in its familiarity, “Jeonghan!”
He sounds distressed. Scared.
Jeonghan walks out of the darkness and into the sterile light of the lab with its metal machines and brutalist technology. He has just a moment to orient himself, to realize that something feels strange and missing within his body, before Seungcheol reaches him.
“What were you thinking?” He asks, anger masking the intense fear that Jeonghan can see in the pinch of his brows and at the corners of his lips. “You had no idea what would happen if you went in there.”
“I’m sorry. I just needed to—“
Seungcheol pulls him into a tight embrace, and something pleasantly warm settles in Jeonghan’s chest, soothed in the safety of Seungcheol’s arms.
“I know I can’t protect you from everything,” he says, his voice muffled in Jeonghan’s hair, “but next time, at least give me a chance?”
“I don’t think there will be a next time,” Jeonghan replies quietly, pulling away gently to meet Seungcheol’s gaze.
“What do you mean?”
Before Jeonghan can respond, the rift flickers. He turns his full attention toward it just as the tendrils begin to converge, closing the tear, lacing it back together.
There’s a burst of cheering from the control panel, where Joshua has scooped Seokmin into a victorious hug. Nearby, Jihoon rolls his eyes, but it does little to cover up his small smile. Sparking, frost-crusted husks of dozens of robots litter the ground around him, and no more seem to be descending from above.
Jun and Minghao stand a few steps away, watching as the chandeliers of crystals that had grown on the ceiling disintegrate in motes of ashy or glowing dust.
Between Jeonghan and the celebration at the control panel, Seungkwan is sitting on the damp floor, exhausted. He’s talking to Vernon, who is rubbing his back soothingly, their words too soft to hear.
Where are Wonwoo and Mingyu?
Jostling Chan, Soonyoung leaps down from the seemingly docile spider robot and asks loudly, “So what are we doing with this guy?”
He gestures with a grimace at Jeonghan’s father, who has unsteadily risen to his feet. The man’s voice is low with malice as he lets the inhibitor bullet that had been in his shoulder fall to the floor, “If you think you can stop me so easily, you’re wrong. I made those, I know how they work.”
Seungcheol lets go of Jeonghan, placing himself between him and his father.
“Your robots have been destroyed, your partner has been apprehended, and the Association task force is on its way. You have nothing left. Give up.”
The man laughs, confident in his own perceived cleverness and authority, “Never.”
He lashes out at Seungcheol, but unwilling to dodge out of the way and let the man get to Jeonghan, Seungcheol deftly catches the fist against his palm, stopping it effortlessly. There’s a moment of shock shared between them, and Jeonghan allows himself a peaceful moment of relief.
It worked.
Seungcheol arches an eyebrow, “Last chance.”
Jeonghan’s father scowls and lets out the last-resort half-shout, half-cry of a cornered animal before wrenching his hand away and trying again.
This time, Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate. With one swift punch, the man drops to the floor, wheezing, curling in around his stomach.
Seungcheol walks a few yards away where he picks up the severed metal cable from a robot, then returns to Jeonghan’s father and restrains him.
“Stay down. Don’t say anything,” Seungcheol says, his voice void of emotion. “It’ll only be in your best interest.”
Soonyoung lets out a low whistle, “Right well, I’m glad that’s over with. Now what?”
“We wait for my mom to show up?” Chan asks from his seat still atop the robot.
Jeonghan raises his voice so the others can hear him, “We need to find Wonwoo and Mingyu. Does anyone know where they went?”
“I saw them head upstairs,” Seokmin says, pointing toward the viewing platform. “But then Mingyu flew into one of the ceiling hatches.”
“They weren’t there,” Jun adds, glancing at Minghao for confirmation.
Minghao frowns, “Those walkways could’ve taken them anywhere.”
“We split up and look for them, then,” Jeonghan says. “Chan, what exactly did you tell your mother?”
“Our location, and that we might need help. A lot of it.”
“Good. Anyone who needs to rest can wait here for the task force and watch these two,” Jeonghan says, glancing at the older man and his father, both restrained. He then brushes his wet hair back, wishing he could tie it up out of his face. “Let’s turn these sprinklers off.”
While Seokmin and Chan tackle the sprinkler problem, Jun and Minghao volunteer to stay behind with them and the prisoners, and the rest of their battle-haggard friends begin to sort themselves into groups.
As Jeonghan starts toward the lab door, ready to descend into the labyrinth of hallways, Seungcheol catches his wrist.
“Jeonghan, we need to talk.”
“Can it wait? Wonwoo and Mingyu might be in danger.”
Seungcheol’s lips press into a tight line for a moment, indecision in his eyes, “What happened in the rift? Why are your father’s powers different?”
Jeonghan suddenly understands why no one seems to know anything about the rifts. He remembers what happened, every word said and sensation felt like they’re etched into his memory with an elegant ink-tipped quill, yet he can’t seem to bring himself to describe it. Like the descriptions of the events themselves are beyond his ability to speak about them.
He shakes his head, “What happened isn’t important. My father doesn’t have powers anymore.”
“He doesn’t?”
“No. And…neither do I.”
A few seconds of uncertain silence pass between them as they search each other’s expressions, trying to read emotions, trying to find appropriate reactions to console and support. But Seungcheol and Jeonghan have always been able to see through one another, and maybe that unique type of intimacy is the reason Jeonghan has always trusted Seungcheol.
Maybe it’s why Jeonghan trusts him, even now, even when Jeonghan, himself, doesn’t know how he feels about the loss.
He doesn’t regret it. Of that much he’s certain, but there is still a whisper of grief inside him. Jeonghan lost part of himself, something that he’d come to rely on. Not only that, but what does this mean for his future? Will he still be able to protect and help his friends? Will the Association rescind its pardon and offer of support?
Will Seungcheol still love me?
Jeonghan feels like a fool the instant he thinks these words. The spark between them was never about lightning. So, catching himself in his own embarrassment, Jeonghan can’t help but give Seungcheol a small yet genuine smile.
This seems to take Seungcheol by surprise, but he hesitantly returns the smile anyway, “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m ready to listen.”
“Thank you,” Jeonghan says quietly, and above them, the sprinklers finally shut off.
“Oh thank god,” Soonyoung groans. He gives his head a quick shake, spraying Chan with water from his hair. “I hate getting wet.”
Jihoon smirks, “Bet you’re pretty jealous of Chan’s raincoat now, huh?”
“Shut up.”
Seungkwan
Seungcheol finishes his private conversation with Jeonghan and speaks to the group, “Alright, we’re looking for Wonwoo and Mingyu. Don’t do anything stupid. If you see anything weird or dangerous–”
“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Seungkwan interrupts, waving off the concern. “This isn’t the first time we’ve done this.”
Vernon arches an eyebrow, “You didn’t tell me you broke into a supervillain’s lab to rescue your friends and save the world before.”
Seungkwan smacks his shoulder.
Vernon simply grins.
“Just please be careful,” Seungcheol says, completely serious. “We’re all tired and hurt, and we don’t know what else could be down here.”
“Use your best judgment,” Jeonghan nods. “We’ll find them.”
As they turn toward the door to the lab, as if on cue, it opens.
“Oh thank god,” Joshua says, but his words are immediately overshadowed.
“Wonwoo!” Soonyoung shouts, sounding equal parts excited and relieved.
The only thing stopping one very tired technopath from getting affectionately mauled by a tiger is Mingyu, who steps between them and takes the tight hug like a punch to the chest.
“What? You’re not happy to see me too?” Mingyu accuses, scrunching his nose.
Soonyoung grins up at him, “I’m hugging you, aren’t I?”
“Only because I got in the way–let go!” Mingyu fidgets half-heartedly, trying to hide a laugh.
“Make me.”
As they bicker and wrestle, Wonwoo steps around them, glancing around the lab before pushing up his cracked glasses, “Well, I have news.”
“Good news, hopefully?” Seungkwan says, wincing.
“Depends on how you look at it. We found the Echo servers.”
“Here?” Seungcheol asks.
“It would make sense, considering what else my father was hiding,” Jeonghan says, glancing at the dripping, scorched machines around the lab.
Wonwoo hums, then nods, “I’ll need more time to comb through the files, but…I think this is it. This is where we’ll get whatever information we need to destroy the Echo project.”
Jeonghan takes a deep breath, “Then let’s see what we can find. Seungcheol, Jihoon, let’s go back with Wonwoo. It’ll be better to have more eyes on this information. Everyone else, stay here and recover.”
“Gladly,” Seungkwan says, unceremoniously sitting down on the damp concrete. He’s already soaked through, so what’s a little more water?
A few seconds pass before Vernon gently takes a seat beside him, “Still cold?”
Seungkwan hums, and Vernon holds his hand out, letting a small fire blossom to life in his palm. The warmth of it is gentle, soothing. Seungkwan scoots closer so that he can rest his head on Vernon’s shoulder.
Their friends that remain talk quietly around them, the exactness of their words lost to the now vast silence of the lab. Jeonghan’s father and the older man have been moved onto the silicone mat where Wonwoo had been imprisoned. Soonyoung stands over them, watching silently, his striped tail flicking behind him.
“Are you still mad at me?” Vernon asks softly, almost hesitant.
Seungkwan sighs, “No. I just worry about you. A lot.”
It’s not that Vernon can’t take care of himself. He’s proven that at least ten times over. Seungkwan is just…protective.
Because that’s what happens when you love someone.
The thought brings a warmth to his cheeks that’s completely separate from the fire in Vernon’s hand.
I need to tell him.
The ache in Seungkwan’s heart that’s followed him around for years seems to have lessened, replaced by a tentative tenderness. After losing Vernon in the factory, no matter how short their separation had been, something clicked into place in Seungkwan’s brain.
Even if he still feared unrequited love in an instinctive, habitual way, it doesn’t matter.
Seungkwan would much rather face the possibility of rejection, or of this all being a silly dream, than face the regret of never telling Vernon how he truly feels.
“Sorry,” Vernon says, and Seungkwan can picture the small frown on his lips. “I know I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not.”
Vernon chuckles, teasing, “But you’re always the first person to call me dumb.”
“Because you know I don’t mean it,” Seungkwan says, matter-of-fact. “So take it back.”
“Okay, I’m not an idiot.”
As usual, Seungkwan has fallen back into the strange language they’ve created, words between words and a way of knowing without ever saying and saying yet not knowing. It’s a language that’s easy in its familiarity but brings Seungkwan no closer to what he actually wants.
But…what do I want?
It’s a big question with a simple answer.
Seungkwan smiles, watching orange and yellow flames dance in Vernon’s palm.
I want to tell him.
“Vernon?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
The fire flickers blue, washing them both in summer-sun warmth before it returns to normal.
Vernon’s smile is clear in his voice as he replies softly, “I love you too.”
Minghao
Minghao watches his friends leave, bound for the Echo server room.
“Relax, Hao. We’ll be okay.”
The pearl-sized light inside of his chest glows as Jun gives him a small smile, but Minghao sets aside the feeling of pleased contentment. He has other things to think about.
“I’m going to find a first aid kit.”
Jun huffs a small laugh, “You think a secret lab is going to be labor code compliant?”
Minghao doesn’t reply, instead turning to find the nearest shadow. He begins to phase into it, but a gentle shift of light stops him.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Minghao says, exasperated.
His gaze lowers to the scratches across Jun’s face and neck and the deeper, blood-smeared lacerations along his arms from where he’d held Minghao. It’s an awful reminder of the day they’d had to flee their mountain village, when Minghao lost control and destroyed what precious little their people had left.
Jun approaches him with sympathy in his eyes, “It’s not your fault, you know.”
Once again, Minghao doesn’t reply, looking away to conceal his shame and guilt. His effort is likely futile, as Jun always seems to know what’s in his heart, but that doesn’t mean Minghao can’t buy himself a few more moments.
Light stirs around him, like faint stars glittering in the air, intangible, yet somehow comforting. Jun stops in front of him, touching a finger under Minghao’s chin. Their gazes meet.
“I’ll be fine, my shadow,” Jun says, just shy of a whisper, like a secret. Or a promise.
Their lips meet in a chaste kiss before Jun disappears in a flash of light. Outside of his corporeal form, he won’t lose anymore blood. He’ll be okay, but the quiet pull inside of Minghao’s chest yearns for him anyway.
“Minghao?” It’s a voice he doesn’t expect.
He turns to look at Chan, who flusters immediately. Minghao tries to soften his expression.
“I don’t know exactly how Jun’s powers work but…would this help?” He offers what looks like a palm-sized glow stick. “You just press the button there and, uh–yeah.”
The stick illuminates with a cool-toned white light.
“It was super useful while I was crawling through some vents earlier,” Chan explains, talkative in his nervousness. He continues, but Minghao is distracted as the glow brightens just a touch.
My light.
The pull inside of Minghao lessens as his worry eases.
“Thank you,” he says, possibly interrupting, but Chan seems relieved. “This does help.”
Wonwoo
“Here we are,” Wonwoo says, his tone lackluster as the door slides open.
The server room is deceptively colorful with its arcade-like blinking lights against sleek dark floors and walls. Wonwoo leads the way to one of the computer terminals, the glass of the large touchscreen cool beneath his fingertips.
Mingyu’s wings flap excitedly. Wonwoo can feel the brush of feathers and air beside him, and it makes him smile despite the ache in his bones and the throbbing pain behind his eyes. Mingyu is here. His friends are safe. The rift was closed.
Now all we need to do is take care of this.
“What made you so sure these are for the Echo project?” Jihoon asks, glancing around warily.
“The biotech signature is almost identical,” Wonwoo explains. “And this.”
He pulls up the schematic on the screen, large enough for all five of them to see. It had been the first thing he’d found in the files while initially probing around, a carefully drawn, painstakingly labeled, intricately dissected Echo device.
Seungcheol lets out a long, tired exhale, “Yeah, that’s definitely what we’re looking for.”
“So we have Jeonghan electrocute everything and destroy it, right?” Mingyu asks.
“No, this might be where they have the servers, but this doesn’t look like where they’re producing the devices themselves,” Jihoon says.
Wonwoo continues tapping on the screen, trying to bypass the security codes with minimal invasiveness. Whatever the rift machine had done to him hadn’t made him dizzy like trying to manipulate biotech, but he still wants to be cautious. There’s no need to tempt fate any more than they already have.
Mingyu groans, “Then we’re still stuck?”
“We have a list of the buyers from the Yoon Technology main office building,” Jeonghan replies, “but unless my father decides to tell us exactly where the manufacturing plant is and has records of which devices are currently active, then we still have more investigating to do.”
“At least there won’t be any crazy supervillains with armies of robots chasing us,” Mingyu laughs, but the bright sound cuts off. “Oh. Sorry Jeonghan.”
“For what?”
“For calling your dad a supervillain.”
Jeonghan chuckles, “No offense taken. He kind of is.”
Wonwoo hums, drawing their collective attention.
“Find something?” Seungcheol prompts.
Wonwoo steps away from the screen to let them have a closer look at the clusters of windows with small, dense text.
“Transportation records,” Wonwoo explains succinctly. “Facilities lists.”
“Can we print these out?” Jihoon asks, skimming the words on the screen.
Wonwoo flicks his hand, glad for the simple task and easy code. He winces as his headache momentarily sharpens, but the pain diminishes back to a tolerable level after a few moments. The computer terminal whirrs and a sheet of paper begins to slip out of a slot below the screen.
“Fancy,” Mingyu whispers, then giggles.
“I can also look for active devices,” Wonwoo says. “If these servers are communicating with them, then there should be a list of them too.”
“And maybe names and locations,” Seungcheol suggests, his tone hopeful.
As soon as Jihoon takes the printed sheets, Wonwoo steps back up to the terminal and begins searching.
He can feel the warmth of someone standing close, watching curiously over his shoulder, a tickle of breath on Wonwoo’s neck.
“Mingyu.”
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing?” Wonwoo asks, mostly teasing.
“Watching, duh,” Mingyu playfully snipes back. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”
“Will you two focus?” Seungcheol grumbles. “We still don’t know how dangerous this place is and I’d rather not wait around to find out.”
“Sorry,” Mingyu mutters, sheepishly stepping away.
Wonwoo doesn’t reply, trying to ignore the blush sitting high on his cheeks.
As he continues searching the database, his friends quietly discuss the information they already have behind him. Minutes pass uneventfully. But then there’s a strange scratching at the door.
“What’s that?” Mingyu asks. “A robot?”
“It would probably be able to get in here by itself,” Seungcheol says, putting an arm protectively in front of Jeonghan. “Stay back.”
The scratching continues, followed by a deep, intimidating growl.
Jihoon scoffs, “I know what that is. Wonwoo, can you open the door?”
It slides aside to reveal a tiger. He stares at Jihoon for a beat, then pounces, nuzzling affectionately.
“Hey, get off, ow–stop it!” Jihoon tries in vain to push Soonyoung away, but it just means he’s jostled more.
Mingyu smothers a laugh.
Seokmin appears in the threshold holding a neatly folded bundle of clothes, “Sorry to interrupt, but the Association is here. They’re making a plan to search the place more thoroughly and I thought I’d give you guys a warning…”
He grimaces.
Probably a force of habitual reluctance, working with the people who had previously deemed him a villain. Wonwoo can’t blame him.
“Are those Soonyoung’s?” Mingyu asks, referencing the clothes. At this point, Wonwoo turns back to the terminal.
“Yeah. He was the only one who could sniff you guys out and he didn’t want to walk around naked afterward.”
“Makes sense.”
“I don’t want anyone else in this room,” Wonwoo says as he pulls up the registry he’s looking for, pages and pages and pages of acronyms, locations, and notes. These are the victims, the people, with active Echo devices. A queasy feeling twists in Wonwoo’s stomach. There are so many of them. “Only people we trust.”
“Wonwoo’s right,” Jeonghan says without hesitation. “We may be working with the Association, but we know these people are potentially corruptible.”
Like the Assistant Director…
“And I’d rather not have this information compromised,” Jeonghan continues.
“Mingyu, Jeonghan, stay here with Wonwoo.” Seungcheol nods toward the door as Jihoon hands him the printed papers, “The rest of us will go meet the task force.”
They depart, the door sliding closed behind them.
After a few seconds of tense silence, like they’re on the edge of some great abyss, Jeonghan asks, “Couldn’t you just shut down the servers and wipe the code?”
“I’m not sure,” Wonwoo admits. “Biotech is so delicate and dangerous. What if shutting this down cold erases people’s memories? Or worse, what if they’re unable to escape and something terrible happens to them because they’re no longer under the Echoes’ control? Imagine the kind of widespread panic and devastation that could cause. And yet…how can I leave them like this? We can’t just hunt them down one by one.”
The distress must be clear on his face because Mingyu puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, “This isn’t just on you, Wonwoo. You’re not making this decision alone.”
“I know,” Wonwoo says, even though he still feels like it is.
He’s the technopath, the only one who can thread this proverbial needle, the only one who could solve or exacerbate this problem with a tug of a string of code.
The server towers blink around them, thousands of little lights like a microcity, hundreds of people trapped somewhere in their own minds.
“Do you think you’d be able to issue commands from here?” Jeonghan asks tentatively.
“Possibly. I would assume this is where they would upload software updates en masse.”
Jeonghan hums, thinking, his eyebrows pinched and his lips pursed in a slight frown. There’s something confident yet soft about his presence, something that makes Wonwoo want to trust him. It’s in moments like these that he can appreciate why so many people have chosen to follow Jeonghan’s lead.
“What if we were to tell them all to do something?”
“Like what?”
“Escape. Come to a predesignated location where we would be able to help them,” Jeonghan says, an idea lightning-bright in his eyes.
“I’d need some time to work on it,” Wonwoo replies, letting the gears of his own mind meditate on the topic. “Figure out how to change things without creating errors.”
“Okay. In the meantime, I’ll think of where we might be able to send them.”
“And I’ll stand guard,” Mingyu declares with a grin.
Seungcheol
By the time they return to the lab, the Association task force is already setting up a basecamp of sorts, administering first aid, taking statements, and examining the machines. It seems they’ve already escorted out Jeonghan’s father and the older man with the scar on his jaw.
Good riddance.
Seungcheol glances around, taking a headcount of his friends and the Association staff members. Naturally, worry weighs down on his chest. Who are these people? Can they be trusted to handle such a sensitive matter?
He spots the Director near the control panel, overseeing the activity of the task force. This puts him a bit more at ease. Chan stands nearby, picking nervously at the cuff of his raincoat sleeve. Seungcheol approaches them.
The Director’s stern expression softens subtly when she sees him, “Ah, there you are. Chan told me all of you were safe, but I’m glad to see it for myself. Are you in need of immediate medical attention?”
Seungcheol is sure he should see a doctor at some point, but he’s been working through the pain this far. It can wait a bit longer.
“No,” he says, casting a quick glance at Chan, who gives him a small, nervous smile. He’s probably okay. Seungcheol looks back at the Director, “We should talk.”
“I was just about to suggest a private conversation,” she replies with an approving nod, then turns to her son. “Will you make sure no one leaves this room? I picked people who aren’t keen on snooping around without permission, but I’d rather not take chances.”
The Director casts a distasteful look at the piles of melted and destroyed human-sized spiders, now rendered nothing more than menacing scrap metal.
“Sure thing,” Chan shrugs, not making eye contact with his mother.
“Chan,” she says firmly, causing him to look up. They’re about the same height, but he’s always seemed shorter than her. Maybe he’s trying to make himself smaller. His mother puts a hand on his shoulder, a brief but grounding touch, “I’m proud of you, you know. What you did today helped a lot of people, and I…I can see how much you’ve grown. Keep your chin up. You deserve respect from others, and you deserve to respect yourself.”
“Thanks mom,” Chan says, obviously embarrassed but equally pleased. The nervousness in his smile dissipates slightly, and the Director gives him a curt nod before gesturing for Seungcheol to follow her.
They ascend to the viewing platform, far away from any prying ears. From here, Seungcheol can see all of his friends, Jihoon, disgruntled, holding up a towel for privacy as Soonyoung changes back into his human form and dresses himself; Minghao closely watching the medic who is bandaging Jun’s wounds; Seungkwan getting treated for small burns while another medic checks his breathing; Vernon, Joshua, and Seokmin speaking separately to the Association staff members, likely giving their statements; and Chan standing near the control panel, watching vigilantly, answering questions as staff members approach him.
“We found the Echo project servers,” Seungcheol says quietly despite their distance from possible eavesdroppers. “Wonwoo is gathering information now.”
The Director gives a hum of acknowledgement. Her gaze remains on the floor below them, watching the task force as she replies, “If he needs anything, let me know.”
“Just confidentiality.”
“Understood,” she says. “Now tell me about this rift machine.”
“On record, or off record?”
“Off.”
Seungcheol does his best to explain what happened in the bits and pieces he knows. He tells the Director about the facility, the lab, what Jeonghan’s father did to Wonwoo, and how the older man with the scar on his jaw was involved.
“Ah, yes. That’s one of the Assistant Directors, in charge of the Association branch you came from, if I’m not mistaken. It’s quite…unfortunate that he was involved,” the Director says, disappointment lacing her tone. “He will undoubtedly be removed from his office.”
“And charged?”
“Of course,” she sighs, her gaze briefly lowering as if in contemplation. “I assume he was lured in the same way I was, with some promise of a greater good.”
Seungcheol watches her, trying to read the intricacies of her expression as he replies, “There’s a difference, though. He was directly involved in the kidnapping and exploitation of dozens of people. You’re fixing your mistakes.”
“I’m trying,” she says, meeting Seungcheol’s gaze. There’s exhaustion in her eyes, but also determination. Seungcheol can see his own struggle between what is right and what is law reflected in them.
Seungcheol goes on to tell her about the rift and Jeonghan’s father losing his newly gained powers. When she asks him how the latter happened, Seungcheol hesitates. He doesn’t know whether to reveal the fact that Jeonghan lost his abilities too.
Will it cost him the protection the Association has offered? Will it change the Director’s opinion of him? Will it cancel out the pardon he received?
Seungcheol knows he’s been quiet for too long, so he decides to respond with a half-truth, “Jeonghan went into the rift with his father. He must have done something while inside, but he hasn’t said much.”
“We’re sure Mr. Yoon no longer has these abilities?”
“Yes.”
The Director nods, though the few seconds of silence that follow make Seungcheol vaguely uneasy. She’s a smart woman, well rehearsed in the implications of unsaid words, but she’s also proven herself to be loyal. Seungcheol trusts her.
“Good. That’s one less thing to worry about,” she says, then reaches into her pocket. “Last thing, we are working on securing a new, safer communicator system, so for now, these will have to suffice.”
She gives him a small stack of metallic black cards, durable, heavy in both weight and implication.
On top of the stack, Seungcheol’s own picture greets him, as well as his hero credentials. In silver, just below his name in an italicized corporate font are the words “Hero Class: S.”
“You’re giving me these now?” he asks, surprised. “Not that I’m ungrateful. We just haven’t completed our end of the deal yet.”
The Director looks back down at the main floor of the lab, and Seungcheol follows her gaze to Chan. Her voice is quiet, lacking its usual guarded discipline, “Consider it another gesture of good faith. I trust you.”
It takes a grueling few hours for the Association staff members to comb through the full extent of the facility, clearing and cataloging as they go. Wonwoo keeps careful guard over the server room, only allowing the Director herself inside to check in and assess its contents. She quickly sets about establishing a quarantine on the area, and secures the perimeter of the entire building.
Amidst treatment for their injuries, the next few days are full of tedious, exhausting work for all of them.
The secrecy around the Echo project leaves Seungcheol and his friends going back and forth between Headquarters and the lab facility, if not to garner more information and help Wonwoo with coding, than to guard the server room from curious or malicious eyes.
It’s during a shift changeover, when all thirteen of them happen to be present, that Seungcheol finally decides they’ve waited long enough.
“Your attention, please,” he says loudly enough to stop the playful bickering and quiet conversations.
“Is he about to propose?” Soonyoung whispers, smirking.
Seungcheol shoots him a deadpan glare, then continues, “I know we’ve all agreed to work together for the duration of destroying the Echo project, and we haven’t really discussed our plans afterward. But–”
Soonyoung giggles, “This is definitely a proposal.”
“Be quiet.”
“Actually, it is,” Seungcheol says, maybe teasing. Just a little. But it’s true. This is a proposal, of sorts. Soonyoung and Mingyu gasp. “I wanted to give us all a chance at working together in the future.”
He holds up the stack of ID cards, fanning them out for display.
Joshua, Wonwoo, and Chan had all been in the Director’s office with Seungcheol when he’d asked for the S-Class licenses, but judging by the shocked murmurs and exchanged glances, they hadn’t told anyone else about it.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Jeonghan says. There’s a humorous gleam in his eyes, which immediately alleviates the nervousness that floods through Seungcheol’s chest.
“I wanted it to be a surprise, but then I kind of…forgot,” Seungcheol admits sheepishly.
“We were pretty busy with other things,” Wonwoo says objectively, though there’s a small teasing quirk at the corner of his lips.
“What is it exactly?” Soonyoung asks, stepping forward for a closer look.
“An S-Class Hero license,” Seungkwan whispers. “There are only a few dozen of them.”
Seungcheol nods, “I have one for each of us, should you want it. Though, I understand if you don’t.”
Many of his friends have a difficult history with the Association, and even Seungcheol himself has formed a healthy amount of distrust for it. Still, if he’s learned anything from their recent experiences, it’s that a support network is necessary for the kind of good that Seungcheol wants to do. The S-Class license would free them from reprimands, would grant them access to more resources, and, maybe most importantly, would give them a say in the Association’s policies, procedures, and operations.
He tells his friends as much.
“We’d be able to sit on committees and perform inspections of facilities and Association branches,” Seungcheol explains. He gestures around to the server room as he continues, “We’d be able to stop things like this from happening.”
It’s a lot of information to take in and a difficult decision to make, especially considering the daunting tasks still in front of them. He expects to wait as his friends think, knowing some of them will need more time than others. He expects painful silence, too, while he sits with the words he’s said and the decisions he’s made. What Seungcheol doesn’t expect is for one of the cards to be immediately pulled from his hand.
“Wow! These are neat! Feel how heavy it is,” Mingyu says, his smile so bright and infectious that even Seungcheol can’t help a chuckle as Mingyu hands the ID card to Wonwoo.
“Is this really the strategy you’re going to use to convince me?” Wonwoo asks, his expression unreadable.
Mingyu’s reply is whispered, “I dunno. Is it working?”
Wonwoo huffs a laugh, “No. I didn’t need to be convinced in the first place.”
He walks over to Seungcheol, who offers him a nod of comradery and his S-Class license. Wonwoo takes it, meaningfully meeting Seungcheol’s gaze.
Since the beginning, and until the end.
“You made some great points, Seungcheol,” Joshua says, his smile gentle as he steps up beside Wonwoo. “Congratulations on your promotion. Looks like you won’t need a mentor anymore.”
Seungcheol returns his smile, handing Joshua his card, “We can always learn something from each other. Or just hide and do paperwork together.”
Joshua gives him a playful wink before he backs away.
“Speaking of mentors,” Vernon says, walking forward with a confidence that just a few months ago had been completely absent from his gait, “I wouldn’t be where I am without you. Thanks for believing in me.”
“You’re worth believing in,” Seungcheol says with the ease of truth as Vernon takes his license. “You always have been.”
Vernon peeks over his shoulder at Seungkwan, who blushes and nods. He turns back to Seungcheol and takes the second card before hurrying away excitedly.
“Well, I’ve got nowhere else to be,” Soonyoung says with his Cheshire grin, taking his own card.
Jihoon rolls his eyes, “This is ridiculous. There’s literally no other way you would’ve gotten a hero license like that.”
“Rude. I totally could’ve.”
Jihoon watches Soonyoung for a moment, then his gaze drops down to the black card in his hand. Seungcheol doesn’t know much about the two of them, but he does know that they always seem to stick together. Jihoon hesitates, but he glances at Seungcheol, then gingerly pulls his own license free.
Movement catches Seungcheol’s eye, and Chan steps forward without a word, quickly tugging his card out of the remaining stack. He seems embarrassed, so Seungcheol doesn’t acknowledge him. Chan doesn’t get the same grace from everyone though.
“Does this count as nepotism?” Soonyoung asks, eyes narrowed, the accusation playful.
“You know what? Never mind. I don’t want it,” Chan says loudly, like he wants someone to disagree with him.
“Don’t be like that,” Soonyoung cackles. “I’m only kidding. Just because your mom is the big boss doesn’t mean you didn’t earn it.”
Chan grumbles to himself, but doesn’t make an attempt to return the ID card.
The silence that follows Soonyoung’s comment is telling, and Seungcheol lifts his gaze. It hadn’t been too long ago that Seokmin and Minghao had been classified as villains, arrested, even; and Jun had been disillusioned after his kidnapping. It has been no secret that the Association had fallen out of his favor.
Seokmin sighs quietly, indecisively.
“There’s no pressure for you to take it,” Joshua says, his voice soft from where he stands beside Seokmin.
“I know. I just…I don’t know if I could be a hero. Not in the same way you guys are.”
“You’re kidding,” Mingyu huffs. “You don’t need to beat things up or fight people if you don’t want to.”
“What Mingyu means is that we need people who can show others that being a hero doesn’t have to be about big battles and grand gestures, even if you’ve already proven that you’re capable of them. Sometimes, being a hero can be about supporting your friends–and knowing when to be brave enough to ask for support too,” Joshua says, and Seungcheol can tell there’s some meaning behind his last statement, something shared between only them. “I’d miss you if you were gone, but we’d understand.”
Seokmin rubs the back of his neck, taking a breath in between his teeth before he laughs, “I guess it couldn’t hurt to give it a try.”
Mingyu lets out a loud whoop of victory, putting Seokmin in a playful headlock. Seungcheol tosses him the ID card, and despite his otherwise occupied attention, Seokmin catches it with the ease of quick reflexes and practiced vigilance.
“You said we’d have the freedom to go where we want, correct?”
The voice surprises Seungcheol, and he turns to see Minghao watching him carefully.
“There would be some paperwork involved, but yes.”
Minghao moves forward with the grace of shifting shadows and slips both his and Jun’s licenses from Seungcheol’s hand. “Then we’ll join you, but I have somewhere I need to go first.”
Jun arches a curious eyebrow at Minghao, but takes his license when it’s offered to him.
Now there is only one card left in Seungcheol’s hand, and his heart sinks when he glances down at the picture on it.
He looks at Jeonghan, whose expression would appear neutral to anyone who isn’t so adept at reading him, but Seungcheol can see both the longing and the regret hidden in the softness of his eyes and in the press of his lips.
Seungcheol tries to slip the card into his palm, where it would be hidden from the view of their friends, but he isn’t fast enough.
“Jeonghan, you didn’t take yours,” Mingyu says, concerned.
The nervous, excited energy in the room plateaus, then slowly fades as everyone’s attention shifts to Jeonghan.
“I…can’t,” he says simply.
“Why not? You’re not a villain and your dad’s not gonna stand in your way,” Mingyu replies.
“Yeah, and your boyfriend is staying,” Soonyoung chips in.
Jeonghan sighs, hugging himself loosely, “I just can’t.”
The protests start immediately, but Seungcheol holds up a silencing hand, “Guys, just leave it. Please.”
“Can you at least tell us why?” Chan asks, and that causes something to pinch in Jeonghan’s expression.
“I can’t be a hero if I don’t have powers.”
“What?”
“What do you mean?”
“But your lightning–”
“He…gave it up, in the rift,” Jihoon says slowly, probably as he realizes it, his words cutting through the din. “It’s why his father didn’t have powers anymore either.”
The silence in the room feels somehow both hollow and suffocating.
Seokmin attempts to break it first, his smile too bright, “Couldn’t we find another rift? Even if you don’t get your exact powers again, you could still have something.”
“I don’t want to try,” Jeonghan says with a painful sort of finality, like this is about more than lightning and rifts. “I don’t want them back.”
“Well, would you want to stay? Hypothetically?” Joshua asks, gently.
Jeonghan’s response doesn’t come immediately, seconds measured in heartbeats as Seungcheol waits, unsure if he wants to hear the answer. Surely, even if Jeonghan didn’t join the Association, he wouldn’t leave entirely. Would he?
“I’d stay,” Jeonghan says, quiet, offering them a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course I would. Who else would think up all of our wild plans?”
The hint of humor allows everyone to relax, even if just a little.
Jeonghan lowers his arms, continuing with resolve, “No matter what happens, I’ll at least stay until all of this Echo business is sorted out. It’s my family’s mess to clean up, after all.”
“Many hands make light work,” Wonwoo says with a small nod. “We’re glad to have you.”
“Group hug!” Mingyu declares and launches himself forward with a powerful beat of his wings. Some of their friends are more reluctant than others, but ultimately, no one escapes and they all stumble over each other, laughing.
With that, the tension in the room eases and everyone goes back to their business, talking amongst themselves or working on the Echo servers.
Seungcheol catches Jeonghan’s eye and nods toward the hallway. Jeonghan follows him out of the room.
“I’m sorry I sprang that on you,” Seungcheol says as soon as they’re alone. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Jeonghan reaches out, lacing their fingers. He brushes idle patterns on Seungcheol’s skin with his thumb as he speaks, “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean for that to happen.”
The pause spans between them like a rift.
“We could try to hide it.”
“Hide what?”
“That you don’t have powers. I’m sure the technology department could make something subtle–”
“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan interrupts softly. “It wouldn’t be right. Someone would find out, and I don’t want to live my life in hiding. Not anymore.”
Something aches deep in Seungcheol’s chest, like they're standing at the precipice of change.
“I understand.”
Jeonghan gives his hand a small squeeze, “Hey, whatever happens, I’m not leaving you.”
Seungcheol meets his gaze, huffing a small laugh, trying to stifle the hope that’s welling much too quickly in his chest, “Good, because I don’t think I could deal with a breakup on top of all of this.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Jeonghan teases, then lets his smile soften. “But really. I don’t have to be a hero at the Association to be with you, do I?”
Seungcheol reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair behind Jeonghan’s ear. He’s vividly reminded of their first kiss, surrounded by danger, amidst the pouring rain. So much has changed, and yet so much hasn’t.
“It didn’t stop us the first time.”
“Perfect. Then there’s nothing to worry about.”