Chapter Text
The elevator door opens with a ding.
Hongjoong steps inside first, hands in the pockets of his new, pressed trousers, perfectly matching the dark blazer and the shirt underneath, the two first buttons deliberately unbuttoned. Through the reflection of the glass, showing not only the beauty of the surrounding hotel but also the immensity of the universe, he adjusts his hair, running his open palm along the side of his head, smoothing the hairstyle, satisfied with the recent sidecuts Mingi gave him.
Yunho follows him, lazy steps contrasting with the powerfulness Hongjoong carries himself. His suit is neither new nor well-maintained, a dull dark blue and a yellow shirt underneath, but he doesn’t really care about clothes like Hongjoong does. He has a cigarette between his lips, the smoke lazily escaping from the tip, his hands in his back pockets and long hair brushed back to show his face, for a change.
“You know you can’t smoke in the elevator”, Hongjoong murmurs, blinking forcefully to adjust the lens in the blind eye. Sometimes it comes out. The feeling is very uncomfortable, even though that eye hasn’t been able to see anything for years.
“Says who?” Yunho asks.
Hongjoong doesn’t answer, only glancing over his shoulder to the bunch of bright warning lights shining around the glass that protects the hotel from the lack of gravity and oxygen outside.
Yunho, who followed his line of vision, hums low in his throat, and then taps the cigarette off on the sole of his shoe to store it inside the pocket of his blazer. He chuckles when Hongjoong frowns.
“Saving it for later. We’re not in a phase where we should be wasting cigarettes.”
He’s right. That’s exactly why they’re here tonight.
“Fair”, Hongjoong agrees, looking over his shoulder again to check if everything is in order. “So. How are we?”
Yunho raises his head slightly, the floors rising. “Yeosang and San already found the guy. He’s betting more than he should, but he’s good at it. Poker table, apparently with company. A barking dog that bites. They’re buying time while Wooyoung got himself into who-knows-where. He says that one of the superiors got on his nerves while he was changing clothes to get undercover, and he wants revenge by finding the safe or something like that.”
Hongjoong hums, straightening his back, feeling it crack. He smooths the fabric of his shirt. “I thought we were going to stick to the plan.”
“We were”, Yunho agrees, corners of his eyes slightly red due to tiredness. “But you know how Wooyoung is.”
Oh, and how Hongjoong knows.
There’s nothing that can be done to stop him when he gets out of control like this, so all they can do is hope that things don’t go completely wrong and they end up getting arrested instead of the person they want to hand over to the police.
“The guy’s name, again?”
“Arthur Savoia. 12 million.”
Hongjoong clicks his tongue. It’s barely enough for anything, but will do. “Wooyoung better find that safe.”
Yunho snorts, but in that way of someone who just doesn’t want to argue. He must have already done that with San on the radio earlier. “And Mingi?”
“What? What about him?” Hongjoong’s eyebrows raise slightly, caught off guard by such a question. “I’m the one who should ask you this.”
Yunho exchanges his weight from the left to the right leg. Uncomfortable, clearly, especially in the way he avoids eye contact. “You’re the captain, should know where your crew is.”
It’s silly how hearing he’s the captain still makes Hongjoong a little embarrassed but a lot proud. The choice was democratic, but not entirely explicit, only happening because he was the first to think about leaving school to trade a life of mediocre jobs and miserable expectations for committing petty crimes but still staying on the edge of the law by being a bounty hunter.
That was twelve years ago.
Hongjoong dropped out of mechanical engineering school in his first year thanks to six failing grades, which led to his stepfather kicking him out of home. He already knew Yunho for a couple years, having gone to school together and being neighbors on the same street, and it was he who offered a mattress in his mother’s house when Hongjoong didn’t have a penny to his name and nowhere to go.
Knowing he had to get a job so he wouldn’t be a leech on other people’s houses, Hongjoong tried everything, but it was difficult to find anything in the capital of Mars, Anteros. The city swallowed him up more than once – one thing leading to another until he bought his first gun and committed his first robbery, which led to his arrest at age 22.
He was Yunho’s first case. To this day, Hongjoong doesn’t understand why he quit lawyering to become a bounty hunter – he had a degree and a job that allowed him to buy a new car at the end of each year – but he supposes everyone has their reasons.
It’s because of these reasons Hongjoong didn’t question when Yunho introduced Mingi a few weeks before they went on their first bounty. Mingi worked in a workshop and consequently knew how to repair engines and about spaceships and cars in general, and Hongjoong sincerely didn’t understand why Yunho thought it was a good idea to bring a guy whose greatest act of rebellion was piercing his tongue, stretching his earlobes and dyeing his hair blue, but so many glances were exchanged between the two that Hongjoong didn’t need anything else to understand. A word to the wise, etc.
San was the fourth. He worked at a gas station that was robbed by one of the guys they were after. He helped them turn the thug over to the police, but asked for his share. Sometime later, Hongjoong discovered he was expelled from the Inter-Solar System Police Academy for getting into too many fights.
Wooyoung and Yeosang came in a package deal, like those buy-one-get-one-free promotions. Two boys that Mars swallowed whole, just like Hongjoong. Wooyoung was skilled in handling knives and knew how to break into doors and safes, besides speaking so many languages. Yeosang knew them too, but his main skill was using his angelic face to pull off scams, no matter how much money was involved. They were out of the reformatory for three weeks when Mingi met them, expelled upon turning eighteen, and it was San who said they would be a good addition to the crew.
Jongho was a twenty-year-old who liked to take apart radios and microwaves to figure out how they worked, thanks to his grandfather who owned a workshop in Callisto. Hongjoong caught him inspecting the spaceship one day, fascinated, and Yunho jokingly asked if he knew how to fix the propeller that kept breaking down.
For all of them, until today and without a doubt, Hongjoong has always been their captain.
Back in the elevator, to the numbers going up and Yunho leaning against the glass feigning nonchalance, Hongjoong thinks about Mingi lying on the sofa in the control room, dozing off without giving any indication he was going to tag along while they were getting ready.
“He said he was going to stay on the ship, if I remember well.”
Yunho’s face is blank, lips jutting forward just a bit like he’s still smoking. “Nah. He likes casinos too much for that.”
Hongjoong smirks, but not much. “And you don’t know if he came or stayed?”
“No.”
“Hit Jongho’s radio, then”, Hongjoong suggests.
“No”, Yunho repeats too quickly. He clears his throat. “Never mind. If he’s here, we’ll see him one way or another.”
“There’s no shortage of blackjack tables here”, Hongjoong agrees. He swings slowly on his feet, back and forth. The leather shoe hasn’t been broken in yet, so it hurts his toes. “And it’s not hard to find a guy with white hair and almost two meters tall.”
Yunho shrugs.
Hongjoong insists, but only because he knows they’ll separate soon and he won’t have to put up with his second-in-command sulking for much longer. “Did you two fight?”
He remembers hearing some agitated whispers and doors banging. Wooyoung commented on it, but Hongjoong didn’t pay attention. It’s a delicate subject; he finds the way Yunho and Mingi handle their relationship (if you can even call what they have that) amusing, but he’s not crazy enough to comment on it.
Yunho hums, nonchalantly. “It’s a way of putting it.”
It could have been a multitude of things: jealousy, snoring too much at night, jealousy, getting tired of always looking at the same person’s face, jealousy, lack of money… Jealousy, too. Especially. They get into a lot of trouble, the crew as a whole, and one of Mingi’s talents (besides knowing about engines) is getting information and things for free just because he’s good-looking – he likes to act like a bon vivant, enjoys expensive jewelry and alcohol and dresses like a punk, showing a lot of skin and little responsibility more often than not.
Yunho isn’t a big fan of this.
And since everyone in the ship has their own way of expressing themselves, in every sense and including their captain, he’s absolutely going to turn a blind eye (literally) to how they interact. Mingi and Yunho have been together for years, apparently; Jongho and Yeosang have something going on for years already as well, and Wooyoung and San are practically the same person, even if Hongjoong doesn’t quite understand where the line is drawn because more than once he’s seen Wooyoung returning from nights out alone with marks on his body that San, on the ship, could never have left.
If Hongjoong were to be interested in someone, which will never happen because he has other priorities (the bounties, money, alcohol, money, clothes, money and keeping everybody safe), it would have to be someone for him and him only. He wouldn’t be able to share someone with other people. He believes there’s a certain dedication he can only direct towards one person – or in this case, his crew as a whole, the friends he made by chance who became his family.
Anyway, what the crew does with each other is not exactly Hongjoong’s business, even though everything that happens on the spaceship is.
The elevator stops, a woman’s voice saying Welcome to the Blind Tiger Casino.
“You better win something, then, to buy his forgiveness”, Hongjoong teases, trying to lighten the mood.
Yunho makes a dismissive gesture as if Hongjoong was an annoying fly and walks to the left, where an elegant bar with dozens of bottles stretches for almost half the room.
Chuckling, Hongjoong goes the opposite way, towards the casino cage, to change some woolongs into chips.
Coincidence, he’s feeling lucky on the very day they have a bounty to find.
🌑
Two and a half laps around the room later, there are San and Yeosang at one of the poker tables.
San is serious, with a killer expression and squared shoulders straining in his dress shirt, while Yeosang is leaning back in his chair, hip tilted to the side, the fabric of his white blouse falling down leaving one pale shoulder bare, shiny bell-bottom trousers fitted in just the right places. Elegant yet sensual, contrasting with the striking masculinity from his partner in scene – he also has on a carefully orchestrated smile like someone who seems to have not a single functioning neuron, a pleasant company that no one would ever suspect has two guns and two knives hidden under such delicate clothing, much less would be able to kill three guys with a single blow. Hongjoong counts about three curious, desirous glances directed at his crew mate, including the dealer’s, which helps San cheat as much as possible without the others noticing.
Humming a song under his breath, Hongjoong grabs a champagne flute from one of the waiters walking through the hall and remembers about Wooyoung’s existence and deviation from the plans. He’s nowhere to be seen, which isn’t like the usual motto, but Hongjoong would be lying if said he isn’t a bit worried.
What matters most, in the end, is that he brings a little something back to the ship.
Back in Hongjoong’s field of vision, Yunho is at a blackjack table with a face that doesn’t match the number of chips in front of him. Mingi is nowhere to be found, alright, but besides that everything seems to be in order for an untrained eye.
Hongjoong’s luck is that the only eye he has is the most trained one.
Tonight’s bounty, Arthur Savoia, was a big shot at one of the biggest oil companies ten or so years ago in Titan, and removed from his majority shareholder position after a corruption scandal. Hongjoong doesn’t remember the details exactly because didn’t pay much attention while Yunho read the dossier out loud, but the guy’s face was plastered all over the newspapers and on every TV channel and website. It’s not hard to recognize him.
It was a two-year investigation that was ultimately shelved due to lack of evidence, but everyone knew the real reason. It was obvious he would want to continue his activities under the table even after being prosecuted, because now it would be without the pressure of the law and oversight. A smuggling operation here, a money laundering operation there, no real charges because he has a million front men, that sort of thing.
The problem is that now he’s facing a new trial for active corruption, unlike the previous one which was passive, and the ISSP are watching him again.
It was Jongho who saw the announcement of his head on TV. The reward wasn’t anything special, but it was satisfactory; they have been experiencing financial difficulties for several months now. Hongjoong thinks he’ll kill himself if has to eat mushrooms and broccoli or noodles with soy-based ground beef for another meal because they can’t afford to eat something real.
Besides that, even if they succeed, taking away the ‘tax’ on the ship and food, there will be about ninety-eight thousand left, roughly speaking, for each of them. It’s not much; actually, it’s barely anything insufficient, but it’s enough for the life they live, for the minuscule luxuries each can afford. Hongjoong can’t stop thinking about a green corduroy jacket he saw in a shop window on Venus last week. Yeosang will surely want to visit old mystic Paquiro to buy some marijuana cigarettes or some hallucinogen from Uranus, which Hongjoong never refuses a share. Two bottles of cognac for his personal stash and new lenses. That would do the trick until the next bounty, or until someone achieves something.
Very well, then.
Arthur Savoia is sitting at one of the tables near the front doors. It’s a strategic place that allows the player to see who’s going and who’s coming, which means he will never be caught by surprise. An expensive, impeccable gray suit, and a beautiful woman with huge breasts next to him, exactly the same strategy as San and Yeosang – the difference is that this one is truly empty inside and out.
Hongjoong taps his breast pocket and feels the chips inside, a small amount of money he plans on multiplying by three by the end of the night, just in time for Wooyoung to do whatever he needs to and for San’s contact from the police to arrive.
Confident steps, he sits by the table just as the dealer is initiating the game, a middle-aged man with nimble hands and a vacant stare, clearing the deck with almost mechanical dexterity. Hongjoong looks around as the cards are shared; it’s been a while since he been to that particular casino, so the faces around him aren’t all that familiar. Either way, he still sprawls out like a regular, his eye adjusting and marking the faces around him with a shit-eating-grin that almost cost him his teeth more than once.
Easy. Perhaps, too much.
The cards slide across the green table with precision to each of the players. Hongjoong shields his two with his left hand, an instinctive gesture, and tilts them just enough to see the metallic glint of the suit: ace of Spades and nine of Spades. A dangerous hand, but with a silent potential that satisfies him enough for a tremble to run down his spine.
The game starts and Hongjoong almost can’t refrain a smile. Oh, he likes poker. At the ship they only play Blackjack because that’s what the others like the most and it’s not like they even use real money to bet, but damn. This is fun. He forgot how much.
In front of him, a woman beside Arthur Savoia smiles and whispers something in his ear, prompting the man to gesture until a cigar is placed between his index and middle fingers, already lightened.
“Opening bets, gentlemen”, announces the dealer, his voice hoarse.
“Two hundred thousand woolongs”, says one of the fringe players.
“Pay”, replies Savoia, throwing a few chips on the table. “Gold for those who have courage, and rubbish for those who are afraid.”
Three players immediately give up, which surprises Hongjoong since the initial investment was quite low for the general stake they were betting.
He simply matches, as well as the rest that was left on the table. A bit more observation shows Savoia wants to keep them there, tasting the blood before sinking his teeth in. Only the gods knew how much money he had to spend all night squandering on cigars, poker and prostitutes.
The dealer burns the top card and turns over the first three cards in the center: ten of Spades, Jack of Spades and Queen of Spades.
Hongjoong’s heart leaps, he takes a discreet deep breath, but his face remains a mask of indifference. He now has four cards for a Royal fucking Flush, the rarest game in the whole damn poker. He only needs the King of Spades to complete the damage, a damage he remembers very well learning happens only in 1 in 19.600 chances and that never, ever before happened to him.
Must be his lucky day. He is absolutely certain of that now.
Savoia bets a grand. Hongjoong taps his chest, feels what he has left there and calls. The other players, smelling something burning, leave the hand.
Now it’s just the two of them, much to Hongjoong’s discontent.
Drawing attention wasn’t what he wanted – he needs this to drag on long enough for the police to arrive and for them to hand over the bastard or Wooyoung to break into the safe, whatever happens first, but the way things are escalating again has gotten out of his control.
“The game just got interesting”, teases Savoia, leaning forward, resting his chin on a hand. The blonde behind him giggles, the sound like tingling glass. “I never saw you around here, son.”
“I’m not much of a gambler”, Hongjoong says, feigning innocence. Over the target’s shoulder, a few tables back, he sees Yunho pulling more chips toward himself, his face looking a little better. “It seemed like it would be fun to try, so I came here.”
Like he doesn’t know this is grey zone for outlaws like them and managed by mob.
“How old are you, anyway?” Savoia takes a puff of his cigar, the smoke thick in front of his face. “You look old enough to be my son, but keeping a bet like that? Interesting.”
Hongjoong shrugs, feigning boredom. “It could be beginner’s luck.”
Savoia shakes his head, tapping his fingers on the table. He has a gold ring on his little one, which is a clear indicator of someone who is part of… a family?!
Now things are even more interesting: as far as Hongjoong and the crew knew, the guy was just corrupt, not a mobster. It makes no sense for him to be here because again, this casino belongs to a family already. It cannot be a coincidence.
His hands itch to reach for his radio and tell the others what he just found out, but he can. This bounty has just been increased by what, another 20 million?
“Nah, I don’t think so”, Savoia insists. “What’s your grace, son?”
Hongjoong lifts a corner of his lip just to avoid falling into the guy’s bad graces, even though what he’s about to say will have the opposite effect: “Hmm, why do you wanna know? Are you going to take me out to dinner?” He says, purposely making him voice sound thinner and whinier. “Is that why you’re asking me so many questions? I don’t think your friend back there will be very happy with it.”
The players who left the hand didn’t disperse. There are some people around them, watching they play, and this makes them wolf-whistle and laugh. Not everyone comes to a casino to gamble, even if this particular one isn’t frequented by ordinary civilians; they seem to stick around because have the same impression, that they are about to witness something that will make the night worthwhile.
Savoia lets out a short, dry laugh; his consort doesn’t even bother smiling now.
“No, son, you’re not exactly my type. You have something between your legs that I can’t use”, he says, and Hongjoong pretends to find it funny instead of disgusting. “I was just curious to know who this arrogant young man was, so as not to quit the game while he still can.”
Hongjoong grins, all teeth and no warmth. Behind Savoia, a little to the right, partly hidden behind the blonde, San rises from his poker table with a satisfied smile, his eyes almost closing, a hand around Yeosang’s waist while the other has his chips. Yeosang waves with his fingers lightly towards the gentlemen at the table, giggly, but as soon as his eyes find Hongjoong, his smile disappears immediately and the extremely serious expression he maintains when they are ‘working’ takes its place.
A waiter walks past the table with glasses of whiskey. Hongjoong accepts one, using this minor distraction to look a little longer at his crewmate. Years of shared experiences allow him to perfectly understand what Yeosang’s two second blink means: everything is under control.
For now.
“Oh, you’re insulting me like this”, Hongjoong pouts a little, pretending to be a bit sad. “I’m just playing with the cards I’ve got.”
Arthur Savoia squints. He’s not buying it, of course not, but Hongjoong doesn’t need him to – he’s more worried about San passing right behind him and bumping against his chair, Yeosang holding San’s arm for balance.
“I’m so sorry, mister”, Yeosang apologizes, voice suave and huge eyes, pretending to be extremely embarrassed. “Please forgive my partner, he drank a bit too much.”
Hongjoong stares at them like they’re annoying insects; San is blushing, but it’s all the effect of good makeup, just to contribute to the narrative.
“Everything’s fine. Just be careful where you’re going”, Hongjoong says, dismissive.
Yeosang smiles. “Yes, yes. Sorry.”
They continue on their way, but now Hongjoong has at least twenty more chips, his pants’ pocket fuller than before.
He smiles, the most he can without giving in too much. “If I raise the bet, will you call?”
This seems to be exactly what Savoia wants to hear – he grins, a gold canine tooth shining. That’s also a great indicator of belonging to a ‘family’. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll bite off more than you can chew?”
Hongjoong likes it when they’re assholes. It makes the job easier.
“Fear is for those who don’t know what they have up their sleeve, old man”, Hongjoong pushes the chips forward. “Raise to five hundred thousand.”
The table trembles. The air grows heavy. The stakes kept rising, rising, until the pot, which previously was a modest pile, begins to resemble a small fortune accumulated in the center of the felt.
The dealer turned over the fourth card: a two of hearts. A dead card. It doesn’t help anyone, but doesn’t change the dynamic either. Savoia, Hongjoong knows, is probably thinking he’s trying a regular Flush (which he could win with a three-of-a-kind or two pairs). He raises the bet to eight hundred thousand.
Hongjoong, maintaining the charade, hesitates for ten seconds before calling – and if someone wonders where all the chips he’s betting are coming from, nobody dares to ask.
The silence in the table is so absolute it’s possible to hear the ember of Savoia’s cigar crackling. The dealer burns the last card and spins the River:
King of Spades.
The world seems to slow down for Hongjoong; he clenches his jaw, pressing his lips together for a second. There, in front of him, was the perfect sequence. From ten to Ace, all Spades.
The Royal fucking Flush.
“All or nothing!” Savoia roars, pushing forward his mountain of almost a hundred more thousand woolongs, the final bet. There’s more than Hongjoong can count at stake now. “I hate doing this, son, but I don’t think you’ll call. I know you’re holding that pair of Jacks and hoping for a miracle. The miracle didn’t come.”
Hongjoong looks at the pot, then at Savoia’s face, the tacky golden tooth shining under the casino lights and the flushed face of someone who indeed drank more than they should have.
In Hongjoong’s pants pocket, his radio vibrates.
Yunho gets up from the Blackjack table and walks to the cashier to exchange chips, hard eyes finding Hongjoong after a few rounds and softening for a fraction of a second. He wiggles his eyebrows, which is also worth a thousand words after knowing each other for so long, and looks at a point slightly to Hongjoong’s left.
“Can I take your empty glass, sir?”
Hongjoong turns to deny when a waiter with cherry-red hair and a very familiar grin his field of vision this time, already taking away the glass of whiskey Hongjoong hasn’t even drunk yet to replace for another.
“Thank you”, Hongjoong smiles, really does. “I’d be with the whiskey you just gave me.”
Wooyoung shakes his head. “No problem at all.”
Hongjoong wants to ask if he found the safe, but even if he didn’t, the amount of money they earned here today, both through cheating and gambling, might already be a satisfactory amount.
The radio vibrates again against his thigh. Hongjoong is expecting his crewmate to take the leave, but he doesn’t.
“Anything else I can get you?” As speaks, Wooyoung’s index finger hits against the glass too fast for anyone else to notice, but Hongjoong, again, only needs one eye to see everything he needs to. “We have all kinds of drinks. Champagne, of course, but there are also varieties of wine, other types of whiskey, Negroni, Aperol. We also have vodka, tequila and gin, and an incredible variety of other house-drinks. Would you like me to bring you the menu?”
Three long, heavy beats for the T, followed by the swing of one short and two long beats for the W, closing the first word with three more slow beats. Dah-dah-dah, dit-dah-dah, dah-dah-dah. After a brief pause, the beater sped up: a frantic sequence of dots and dashes that sounded like the ticking of a broken clock, ending with the three quick dots of the S, like a whisper of urgency.
Two minutes. Now, probably less.
“No, thank you”, Hongjoong dismisses the offer again, watching as Wooyoung nods and disappears just as fast as appeared. He turns back to Savoia, whose eyes are burning him with the certainty of someone who has cornered their prey. “You’re right about one thing, old man. The miracle didn’t come.” Hongjoong flashes another shit-eating grin. “Because I didn’t need one.”
He turns over the Ace of Spades and the nine of Spades. Combined with the K, Q, J and ten on the table, he held the strongest hand that poker mathematics allows.
Touché, motherfucker.
While the other players gasp in disbelief, clapping discreetly, and the dealer begins stacking chips for the winner, Hongjoong stands up.
The night is over, and the house, tonight, lost.
Now all that was missing was for the police to arrive.
Less than a minute and a half.
Hongjoong bows in mock-respect, turning his back just as Savoia exchanges a look with a man in all black near him. He walks towards the cashier, where Yeosang is casually drinking a flute nearby, elegant and perfectly distracted, while Yunho is smoking further ahead and San is nowhere to be seen.
When they get close, Yeosang pretends to toast as a greeting. Hongjoong keep his face blank.
“How much?”
“Forty seconds”, Yeosang murmurs, mouth hidden against the rim of the glass. “How much do you think is in there?”
“A million something. I need to change it”, Hongjoong answers, looking away as if they weren’t even acknowledging each other’s presence. “Where did San go?”
“To get the other bounty Wooyoung found”, Yeosang answers, eyes moving in the direction Hongjoong just came from. “Got a gun.”
“Obviously”, Hongjoong hands the tokens to the cashier girl, who has many piercings and light green eyes. The G18 on his hip only leaves his side when he goes to take a shower.
“It wasn’t a question”, Yeosang says, placing the champagne flute on the counter. Hongjoong senses rather than sees Yunho walking towards them, busy watching the girl placing the chips in the machine to count them. “He’s going to shoot you in the head.”
Hongjoong scoffs. The amount of money is exactly one million, sixty-three thousand, nine hundred and forty-seven woolongs, as the register says. He feels like lava is spreading in his lower abdomen, making him warm and satisfied; not even the threat of being shot is enough to make him stop smiling.
“Oof. Now?”
Yeosang places his hand behind himself, on his lower back, and pulls out the .38 discreetly, unlocking it.
“Soon. There’s a guy the size of a wardrobe near our target and another one back there behind the bar with an MP7.”
Hongjoong snorts. “He better do it quickly, because I have an appointment with counting our money tonight and I can’t miss it.”
The cashier gives Hongjoong the bills the exact moment Yunho stops beside him, pushing him down with a hand on his shoulder while the other points the Jericho 941 R in the bar’s direction at the same time as Yeosang.
“Excuse me, gentlemen”, he says, charming and clearly better humored, and shoots.
It’s a mix of horrible, loud noises: the submachine gun exploding the cashier boot while Yunho and Yeosang shoot back, diving to try and defend themselves; it’s the screams of the people, the sound of shattering glass and the casino’s front door being blown open as an ISSP team enters, also armed to the teeth and shooting back without even asking what’s going on.
Hongjoong rolls on the ground, ears ringing and heart pounding like a drum against his chest. He holds the brown paper package full of money against himself , making sure everything is inside it, but none of that matters as much as knowing his two crewmates are alive.
Yunho is already behind a pillar, firing, and Yeosang’s absence from his field of vision for a few seconds is enough to steal Hongjoong’s breath until a hand pulls him by the lapel of his jacket and lifts him up, his legs already moving to start running.
“Stairs, stairs!” Yeosang yells, urging Hongjoong to follow him and hiding another pillar as he shoots. Someone groans in pain; Hongjoong peeks out in time to see a guy falling backward with a huge hole in the middle of his forehead. “The elevator is blocked by the pigs!”
A bullet no one knows who fired hits Arthur Savoia in the knee, his cry of pain cutting through the noise along with the scream of panic from the blonde who is with him. More shots were fired in their direction, both by the police and by Savoia’s bodyguards; Hongjoong pulls out his own weapon and fires a few shots, hitting one of them. “Just don’t kill the guy! We had to hand him over to the police!”
“Jongho called them, we’re going to receive the money anyway”, Yeosang says, taking down another one and shooting near where Yunho is. He looks back, his hair completely messed up and his face red, panting, and Hongjoong gestures towards the stairs while Yeosang is already pulling him. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go—”
There are eighteen floors in the hotel, but they only descend three rounds of stairs. It takes a few seconds for Yunho to appear, but when they do it’s with bumps and jolts, firing over his shoulder without necessarily aiming at anyone.
We need to get the fuck out of here alive, Hongjoong can’t stop thinking, sweat dripping down his shirt and pooling in the waist of his nice slacks. Need to get out of here and fast—
Yeosang suddenly pulls him to the left, pushing open a fire door that leads to a floor of rooms, corridors carpeted in red and white walls with elegant yellow lights illuminating the door numbers. They know what they’re looking for: a specific door, a room with a balcony and an escape spaceship San is most likely piloting to take them back to the main ship.
“Where is it, where is it—”
Room number nine three is the first one turning right in the hallway. Yeosang deftly pulls out a decorated key Wooyoung likely gave him earlier that night to unlock the door, the other two entering the room almost tripping over one another.
“The money”, Hongjoong turns to Yunho, who is already running towards the balcony. Thankfully, this part of the plan didn’t go wrong: there’s San’s ship, the only one among all they have that’s fast enough for both a rescue and an escape, with six other seats. It was modified by Mingi, who incorporated fighter engines inspired by 20th-century world wars and 21st-century racing car engines. He did the same to Yunho’s and Hongjoong’s ships, both MONO racers that are mostly used for hunting and individual combat are unable to retrieve the rest of the crew using either of them. “Tell me you’ve got the money!”
“Yeah, yeah”, Yunho says, euphoric, opening the balcony door. The wind bursts into the room thanks to the proximity of San’s ship. Wooyoung, thankfully, is already inside, and he’s the one who opens the main cabin’s window and stretches his hand, extending himself over the control panel, to pull them inside. “It’s here—Wooyoung!”
Wooyoung waves his outstretched hand. “Hey, hey, now, jump! C’mon!”
There’s no need to say it twice. Yunho goes for it, the distance much smaller for someone with such long legs. He falls for it with a certain grace, even; right after comes Hongjoong, the captain’s calculus somehow wrong both by the lack of another eye and by the adrenaline rushing through his veins.
“Shit!”
Yunho pulls him firmly by the forearm. Hongjoong goes like weights nothing, with bit of force, falling as like a sack floor of the ship, his shoulder joint protesting at having been used so roughly but not as much as his ankle, who falls in a weird angle to support himself from slipping too badly. There’s no time to worry about this, however, so he throws the brown paper package on the ground, takes a fraction of a second to make sure the money landed where it was supposed to, and then turns to extend both hands to Yeosang, the last one left.
Gunshots coming from neighboring rooms, probably other mobsters with Savoia hit the ship’s metal body; San curses, Yunho already with his Jericho shooting the men nearby, and Wooyoung yells for Yeosang who hesitates, returning to the hotel somewhat crouched to avoid being hit.
“Shit”, Hongjoong curses, also firing. San makes a risky maneuver, a sudden drop with everyone half-supported on the control panel, and Hongjoong has to hold onto the edge of the ship to avoid falling, almost doing so. “San, damn it!”
“Sorry! I gotta get closer if we want to catch Yeosangie!” San shouts over his shoulder, his impeccably styled hair now messy, strands falling across his forehead. His white dress shirt is clearly darker with sweat around his neck and armpits; Hongjoong is certain he probably looks the same. “Youngie—”
“I know, I know, I know”, Wooyoung frantically says, pulling a submachine gun from under the dashboard. He leans on it, firing at the men who seem to multiply, but who recoil slightly at the sight of their weaponry. “Captain!”
Two henchmen fall to their right; Hongjoong drops the empty ammunition from his gun on the ground and grabs another from his pants pocket, continuing as if nothing happened. “Motherfucker—We need Yeosang!”
The sound of gunfire is deafening, but a pale hand rises from inside the room. Yeosang is lying on the floor, but from where they are, it’s unclear whether he was hit or is trying to dodge.
“Damn it, we have to get him”, Hongjoong repeats. He tries to balance himself enough, one foot on the panel, but he can’t. If he falls, that’ll be two problems, and one this size is already enough for them. Where the hell is the police? Why aren’t they here yet? “Wait, let me—”
“I got him, I got him”, Yunho reassures, taking a step back. San seems to understand his plan, as do Hongjoong and Wooyoung; the latter two are responsible for shooting while San advances to the right, closer to the balcony, and Yunho jumps like a cat to the edge of it, incredibly supporting himself on the railing and jumping inside the room.
Nothing happens for a few seconds; Hongjoong shares his attention between hitting the larger number of people in the balconies while making sure that Yunho and Yeosang haven’t called for help, or that Wooyoung doesn’t shoot him because he’s just as nervous as the captain.
“Yunho! Come on!”
Thankfully, Yunho manages to get Yeosang. He emerges from the room with the other one slung over his shoulders like a backpack. The fact that he has to do such a thing is bad; it means Yeosang is hurt somehow – and if there’s anyone who can’t get hurt among them, it’s Yeosang, because he has the basic first aid knowledge that has kept them alive until today. Hongjoong is already anticipating some of the money will have to be used to buy medicine or pay a doctor to visit the ship while he takes down another random guy and has to dodge a series of shots that are now coming from some upper left corner.
“Where the hell are the pigs? Shouldn’t they be arresting these sons of bitches?” Wooyoung asks, repositioning the submachine gun. For a second Hongjoong has a mini heart attack, thinking Wooyoung is hurt, but no; it’s not blood but sweat dripping red down his forehead, which means Mingi must have done his hair recently.
“San!” Hongjoong shouts as Yunho climbs onto the balcony railing, Yeosang’s arms limply around him. San comes closer again, so close he almost enters the hotel room, and Yunho jumps into the cabin, this time without the same grace.
The two fall into a jumble of legs and arms and bundles of cash, disheveled, sweaty and trembling.
“Everybody alive and in one piece?” San asks, ducking his head when a shot passes right by the right side of his face. “Oh, shit!”
“Yeah, go, go, go, go—” Wooyoung urges him, pressing the button that closes the cabin himself while San is already speeding towards the spaceship exit portal.
As soon as they leave the portal and break through the barrier to space, some ISSP ships are hovering around the floating building. They illuminate the hotel windows with blue and red sirens and create a contrast to see who shines brighter, them or the casino’s colored lights. Besides the pigs, however, there don’t appear to be any other suspicious ship, just like it doesn’t seem like they were followed, so Hongjoong can finally breathe for half a minute until Wooyoung curses and drops the gun as if his hands were burning, running to Yeosang’s body lay curled up like a baby on the ground, his pale face the same color as his hair.
“For fuck’s sake”, Yunho curses him. “You drop that gun inside the fucking cabin?! What if it goes off?”
“I locked it, genius”, Wooyoung scowls over his shoulder, his face flushed with paint and strain, dripping onto the white shirt of his waiter disguise. “If I wanted to shoot you, I wouldn’t need one of these, I could use yours!”
Yunho makes a face of disdain, like Wooyoung wouldn’t be able to. San sighs deeply, running a hand through his disheveled hair, and Hongjoong also crouches beside Yeosang, who’s sweating profusely and with a nasty wound on his left shoulder, his elegant shirt torn and bloodied, a small puddle where he lies on the floor.
“They shot him, damn it”, Hongjoong murmurs, wiping the sweat off Yeosang’s forehead.
“‘Sangie”, Wooyoung calls, much more gently, shaking hands trying to cradle Yeosang’s face. “It hurts, doesn’t it? Calm down, we’re almost home.”
“Of course it hurts”, Yunho answers, taking the cigarette from his jacket pocket and lighting it. “He got shot in the shoulder, genius.”
Hongjoong sighs heavily; he knows where this is headed to.
“Oh, what’s wrong?” Wooyoung scoffs, wiping the sweat from Yeosang’s forehead with the back of his hand. “Are you a little cranky, hm, baby? Something’s wrong?”
“Of course there is!” Yunho blows smoke in his face, his eyes wide as if he can’t believe he’s hearing such a question. “You’re a fucking irresponsible jerk! You change the whole damn plan just because—”
“I was trying to increase the reward amount, darling!” Wooyoung interrupts him, voice loud. “Because I knew that if things went to shit, like they did, we could end up without the money!”
“The money will come, it was Jongho who called them!”
“Stop fighting”, Yeosang mumbles, breathing hard, his voice barely audible.
“Oh, do me a favor, it seems like you started yesterday!” Wooyoung continues. “Since when do we believe the word of the guys Jongho knows? They’re cops!”
“Actually, he’s my contact”, San interrupts, sheepish. They are three minutes away from the ship, and his face gets just a bit redder when both Wooyoung and Yunho turn to him. “He was my colleague from—”
“See? Now I doubt you’ll say anything”, Yunho interrupts him. “In fact, I think you better stay quiet, because the moment Jongho finds out Yeosang got shot because you deviated from the plan—”
“What?” Wooyoung shouts, scandalized. “I have nothing to do with this! If anyone annoyed the damn bounty, it was—”
“Shut up, both of you, before I grab my gun and shoot you both in the fucking shoulder”, Hongjoong says, voice low but immediately heard by all. Wooyoung’s mouth snaps shut with an audible sound of clacking teeth, and Yunho groans, swallowing his frustration.
“Captain”, Yeosang mumbles from the floor. Hongjoong glances at him more sympathetically, but not in a way that allows him to continue either.
“You sound like children, for fuck’s sake”, Hongjoong continues. “Yeosang is bleeding on the damn floor and you’re arguing about who’s to blame?” He turns to Yunho, who lowers his eyes, cigarette burning between his lips. “Everyone’s to blame. If one of us gets hurt, if someone doesn’t come back in one piece, if something happens, everyone’s to blame, and we shouldn’t be pointing fingers at anyone.” He looks back at Wooyoung. “The plan was to distract the guy until the cops arrived. That’s what I did. I was the scapegoat. You would know that if you had stuck to the plan.”
Yunho scoffs. Wooyoung, not easily intimidated, takes the bait. “The plan was for everyone to be present so that everyone would have something to do, except Jongho, but obviously there are people who can’t help but bring their personal lives into it.”
Yunho’s face immediately turns red. He almost spits the cigarette on the floor, taking long strides in Wooyoung’s direction and crowding him against the panel; San can barely look up from the horizon, now one minute and the main ship’s entrance door slowly opened to let them in, before placing an arm between them, awkwardly trying to pushing Yunho back.
“Are you going to hit me?” Wooyoung smirks provocatively. He knows he risks getting a good punch. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Are you going to take out your petty anger at Mingi on me?”
Yunho grabs him by the shirt and San groans in annoyance, not able to get up because he needs to maneuver the ship so they are able to land inside safely.
“I’ll break your fucking teeth—”
“Not before I kill you both”, Hongjoong interjects, and Yunho freezes when Wooyoung’s eyes widen at the sight of the gun pointed at them.
It’s not like Hongjoong would shoot, but it’s not like… Not like he wouldn’t either. Their captain, of all of them, is the dirtiest and the meanest when he needs to be. They all know it very well. If it were necessary to teach a lesson, no one doubts, not even Hongjoong, that he would shoot at least someone in the leg to illustrate his point.
“Captain”, Yeosang pleads, getting up from the floor just a little bit. He groans, pain probably radiating from his shoulder, and it’s San who gets up to help him when they finally land.
Yunho lets go of Wooyoung’s shirt. He shoots him a final glare and turns to Hongjoong, holding the gun (his Jericho) by the barrel. “Okay, that’s enough. I don’t need you to shoot me when Jongho is probably going to break our hands anyway.”
Hongjoong smiles, handing him the gun, a shocking change of posture and expression. It’s a slight exaggeration to say Jongho would break someone’s bones, especially since doing what they do, it’s common for someone to return to the ship injured, but it’s not like he wouldn’t be happy too.
Makes sense. He’s very protective of Yeosang, almost as much as Wooyoung, even if Hongjoong is sure that his worry has anything to do with brotherhood.
Wooyoung glares at both of them but says nothing; he focuses instead on joining San and supporting Yeosang so they can go down. It’s about nine seconds until the captain, crouching down to pick up the money inside the brown paper package, hears an interjection of surprise and Wooyoung shouting back, “It wasn’t our fault!”
Yunho is busy looking for something else, probably what Wooyoung risked the plan to be able to retrieve it if things went wrong. Hongjoong then descends from the ship and finds Jongho already furious, his round face red and eyes darting around San, who explains the situation in a calm voice, and Wooyoung, who tries to deny it and add talk over him. Yeosang is already in Jongho’s arms like a bride, eyes closed and brow furrowed, but it’s to Hongjoong the pilot directs the question: “What the hell happened to him?”
“He got shot while we were running away. The plan was working, but the police were incompetent. There’s no reward for now, unless they told you anything on the radio, but there’s a little something here”, he shows the bag of money. San and Wooyoung make room for him to brush the sweaty hair from Yeosang’s forehead. “Go take care of him, and I want everyone in the control room in half an hour.”
“Wooyoung!” Yunho shouts, jumping out of the spaceship with a huge wooden box, gold details and a massive padlock. “Is this the thing you almost killed yourself to get?”
Hongjoong rolls his eye. Wooyoung tries to go to him, but San is quick to pull him by the collar of his shirt back. “Careful with that, idiot, I don’t even know what’s inside!”
“Ah, great. Did you hear that, Captain?” Yunho stops beside him, making a disdainful face. “Someone changed everything just to get a damn box—” he shakes it, and everyone hears the sound of something inside, “—which probably doesn’t even have anything important in it—”
Jongho turns to Wooyoung, outraged. His brain must have put two and two together faster than Hongjoong could imagine. “You changed the plans to get a freaking box?”
“It was in case it went wrong, which it did!” Wooyoung defends himself, voice high-pitched, indignant. “What did you think, that a big dog like that bastard was going to be easy to fool? I knew there was a chance the whole thing would explode before the pigs arrived, so I broke into the safe and that’s all that was in there!”
“It better be a zillion woolongs”, Yunho adds, climbing the stairs from the landing pavilion into the spaceship. “To make it worthwhile for Yeosang to have been shot—”
Hongjoong has to grab Jongho by the shoulder before he drops Yeosang to the ground to actually punch Wooyoung. It wouldn’t be the first time either.
San takes Wooyoung inside by holding him by the waist, his slender legs floating around as he tries to kick Yunho. It leaves only the captain, the pilot and the hurt behind, so Hongjoong can finally explain, “It wasn’t his fault. He deviated from the plan a little, but Yeosang being hit was an accident that happened during the planned escape route. It happened, it wasn’t anyone’s fault”, he repeats, because Jongho scoffs. “Wooyoung’s concern is genuine, but Yunho is resentful towards him because of the usual. I want you to go take care of Yeosang and meet the crew without him, he needs to rest.”
Yeosang opens one eye, sweating profusely. “I—I can—”
“Rest? You should.” Hongjoong is firm. “And I need a shower, so hurry up.”
🌑
Gathered in the control room, which is nothing more than the piloting room with furniture of every possible style found in bazaars in places they’ve been, the six bounty hunters spread out across the two sofas and three armchairs while their captain, standing, has before him on the ebony wood coffee table wads of cash and the box that Wooyoung stole from the casino’s safe.
“From my side, a million, sixty-three thousand, nine hundred and forty-seven woolongs”, Hongjoong says. “Those who have achieved something, present it to the conference.”
San and Yunho hand over their respective amounts. “Nine hundred and forty-two thousand, two hundred and ninety-five”, Hongjoong finishes counting San’s, and a bit more of silence until he finishes Yunho’s, organizing the bills by different amounts: \₩1000, \₩5000, \₩10000, and \₩50000. “Seventy-six thousand three hundred and sixteen.”
“Two million, eighty-two thousand, five hundred and fifty-eight”, Mingi says, eyes closed behind colored sunglasses. He’s lying on the sofa, long legs resting on its arm as he leans on San’s side. Hongjoong notices how Yunho straightens up when hears his voice, arms crossed, but says nothing; the captain trusts his calculations, always did. “Taking forty percent for the expenses, it’s two hundred and eight thousand, two hundred and fifty-five point eight for each.”
It’s a rather meager amount, but it’s more than Hongjoong expected to get from the bounty, so things can still improve if they receive it. Hongjoong doesn’t have time to verbalize this because Yunho interferes: “Two hundred and forty-nine thousand, nine hundred and six point nine six. Count yourself out.”
Mingi lowers his sunglasses, sitting straighter. His small eyes get even smaller as he squints. “What?”
“Only those who participate get some”, Yunho answers. “You didn’t want to participate. You get nothing.”
“This is not how it works”, Hongjoong interferes before the situation escalates, since Yunho is apparently the focal point of the day’s conflicts. “Everyone gets paid for what everyone else achieved. If not, we’re not a crew. You know this very well.”
“It’s not fair”, Yunho says, which is a lie because he himself was the first person Hongjoong shared everything he got with, back when they were still at Yunho’s mother’s house. “If that’s the case, I’ll stop going because I’m not interested and I’ll make money anyway.”
Wooyoung scoffs, arms crossed, sitting across from San. “When did you fall into the trap of capitalism? Do you want to become a hoarder of wealth? Instead of stopping working, go work on your own, then. I’m not going to support you, you bum.”
“You guys are absolutely unbearable”, Jongho murmurs, passing a hand on his face, and then louder, “I never leave this damn ship, Yunho. Do you think I don’t deserve the money?”
The tips of Yunho’s ears redden. Hongjoong sighs, and Mingi, still half-sitting and half-lying down, sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose, stares at the captain as if to say, Aren’t you going to say anything?
He feels like a single father raising a bunch of adult children. It’s different from raising children, because they are malleable. Adults already have a pre-defined way of being. The most Hongjoong can do here as captain is prevent them from killing each other when things escalate like this.
“Mingi. Why didn’t you go today?”
Mingi swallows, the movement visible, embarrassed. It clearly wasn’t what he expected, when asked silently for an action from the captain.
“I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Do you have body aches? Is something broken?”
“…No.”
“So why aren’t you feeling well?”
Eyes don’t lie, of course, and Mingi’s move for a second to Yunho, who stands with his arms crossed, to Hongjoong’s right.
A sigh. He’s tired.
“I understand that there may be days when we don’t want to do anything, but there are certain moments that require the max effort we can muster”, Hongjoong says. “There are situations where we have to think about the collective, and not just ourselves. Being a crew is about that. It’s about us before I. Today, it was supposed to be us. You didn’t tell me directly that you weren’t going to participate, and I had to hear it from others.”
Mingi lowers his head. “Sorry, Cap.”
“There’s no need to apologize, because that doesn’t change anything. You just have to not repeat it”, Hongjoong continues, turning to Yunho. He’s the second in command for a reason, and should give the example. “And you two settle whatever needs to be settled between you two. I don’t care what happened. Fix it, even if it means, I don’t know, you have to break each other’s noses. I want this resolved by tomorrow morning. If it isn’t, then both of you will be left without the money.”
Yunho opens his mouth, indignant, and Mingi finally sits, heavy boots hitting the ship’s metal floor with a thump.
“But Captain—”
Hongjoong tenses his jaw, tilting his head; it’s enough to prevent them from saying anything, and to also silence the snicker Wooyoung hides behind San’s shoulder.
Being the captain fills Hongjoong with pride, of course, but it’s also tiring because it’s a responsibility not everyone wants to take on. Someone has to be the annoying one, someone has to think for and in their behalf. Someone has to be the one who puts others first. Hongjoong took on this role without hesitation, he won’t complain about it, but yes, it’s tiring.
No other conflict to be addressed, he picks up a pocketknife from the table, satisfied that there are no answers, and takes the wooden box, the only thing left to check for the day.
Wooyoung shifts, sits on the edge of the sofa seat with wide, anticipatory eyes.
“Can I open it?”
And just because he also tested Hongjoong’s patience today, he says, “No.”
Wooyoung pouts. It’s a ridiculous expression, but works with San. The captain isn’t San, however, so he uses one of the smaller knives to force open the padlock.
“Let me get this straight. You saw a wooden box in the middle of a safe and thought it was a good idea to take it?” Jongho asks, sitting in the armchair facing Hongjoong. “What if there are, I don’t know, a hundred thousand insects inside it?”
“I’d die”, San murmurs, widening his eyes.
“There aren’t insects, there’s something solid, I gave it a shake”, Yunho replies.
“I was thinking about money, you know”, Wooyoung defends himself. “It could be a bunch of bills together. It could be something of greater value.”
Yunho scoffs. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, duh. Gold.”
“Gold weighs more than that.”
“Neodymium, then. There was a shipment of Europium stolen about two months ago from Janus, it could be that.”
“Well, that changes things.” Jongho gives a half-smile, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then we’ll have to manage to sell this without looking like we stole it.”
“A thief who steals from a thief gets a hundred years of forgiveness”, Wooyoung says, puffing out his chest and nose.
“I don’t think the ISSP thinks that way, Youngie”, San says, gently stroking the back of Wooyoung’s neck, where his hair has tinged the skin red.
“No, there’s no way. The noise it made was of something solid, but it wasn’t metal. It wasn’t sharp, it was hollow. Not exactly hollow—” Yunho says, turning to Hongjoong, who opened the lid but stares blankly at the inside of the box. “What’s wrong?”
Many things.
Many, many things.
“Wooyoung”, Hongjoong calls. Wooyoung turns to him, again excited, and San raises his eyebrows. Jongho stills, Mingi lifts his sunglasses up to his head, holding back his bangs. Yunho approaches, and the expression on his face is impossible to describe.
“Yeah? What’s inside? What did we get?”
Hongjoong hesitates. He looks at Yunho, the corner of his mouth lifting in slight displeasure, disgust perhaps, and Yunho blinks repeatedly as if he can’t believe what he sees.
“You’re a fucking idiot”, the second-in-command says.
“What?!” Wooyoung stands up, almost jumps from the sofa. Hongjoong doesn’t stop him from grabbing the box with his own hands to finally see what’s inside. “Damn it!”
“What?” Mingi asks, getting up but not approaching. A man this tall, so easily scared. “What’s inside?”
Jongho approaches as well and starts laughing so much his head tilts back, color tinging his cheeks. “No fucking way!”
“What is inside?” Mingi insists, almost whining.
“Oh, Gods, baby”, San puts his hands on Wooyoung’s shoulder. “Well. I know you had good intentions, but—”
“Holy shit, I’m going to skin you alive!” Mingi says, pulling Wooyoung closer and then immediately stopping.
Hongjoong can barely register the confusion in front of him because his head is filled with a million questions, mind running one thousand kilometers per second.
Mingi’s eyes widen impossibly. In the heat of the moment, it’s at Yunho he looks at and shouts, “A… rabbit!?”
Yunho shakes his head, facepalming. “A fucking rabbit.”
Mingi tries, but Wooyoung won’t let him pick up the gray and white-spotted animal that’s actually inside the box, clearly terrified as it struggles as Wooyoung hands the box to San, trying to hold it like a baby, tucking it against his chest and neck.
“A rabbit”, Jongho repeats, and then laughs more, loudly, as rarely happens. “Yeosang got shot because you picked up a box with a rabbit!”
“It’s not just any rabbit!” Wooyoung gives up on cuddles and holds the animal now under its front paws, arms extended in front of him. “It has three eyes!” Turns to Hongjoong. “It has more eyes than you, Captain!”
“Yeosang wasn’t shot because of it”, Hongjoong corrects, ignoring Wooyoung’s comment and San and Mingi’s laughter, stuck to the fact there is, indeed, a third eye right in the middle of its forehead, with a blue iris unlike its normal dark, wide-open other two. “But what the fuck, what kind of rabbit has three eyes?”
Yunho shrugs, watching Wooyoung cooing the rabbit and San, somewhat cautious, not engaging as much as Mingi, who insists on holding the animal too, and Jongho, who hides his face behind his hands because can’t stop laughing.
“It must be something very, very bizarre and important to be kept in a safe, that’s for sure”, Yunho says, standing beside the captain trying to be the second adult.
Hongjoong agrees. From what he knows of all criminals and outlaws (himself included), even the most insignificant thing can hold the greatest value if well-hidden and well taken care of. Hongjoong has things that are the fruit of his own ‘labor’ that he has never shared, not even with the crew, not even with Yunho. It’s not money, because all money is divided, but those are personal items that Hongjoong would also keep in a safe, if had one in the ship.
Perhaps this rabbit was something precious to whoever chose to place it in such a location, hidden from everyone’s view.
This is both good and bad.
Good, because such a precious item has a redemption value.
Bad, because they don’t know how much that value is – yet.
Hongjoong gets up while everyone is distracted by the animal and sits in the pilot’s seat, running his hand over the control panel to his left to start the onboard computer. The keys light up on the panel, the screen appearing before him with pixels glowing blue, and as soon as the search tool initiates, he types rabbit with three eyes because that’s the most information he has at the moment.
The initial results are inconclusive; some nonsense about hybrids and collective imagination. Hongjoong scrolls down the page. No reliable sources, mostly online forums and a few articles about normal, two-eyed rabbits, until almost at the end of the first page a title catches Hongjoong’s attention.
do space bunnies really exist or was it something they told children on earth back in my father’s days?, the article title says.
Hongjoong clicks on this. Behind him, Wooyoung finally gives in and Mingi picks up the rabbit, which tries unsuccessfully to kick him while he lifts it above his head and looks at it with a huge smile, Wooyoung hanging on his arm making childish noises as if it were a baby and not a three-eyed animal.
r/AliensDoExist 6y ago
skylark
do space bunnies really exist, or was it something they told children on earth back in my father’s day?
Discussion
my old man always talked about some strange species that existed around the time they started evacuating earth and went to mars. that was, idk, about 70 years ago. my dad is 82 now. he said they tried the moon in the 20th century, about 200 years ago, but it didn’t work. it was never something that was widely discussed, but he insisted there were these so-called space bunnies that lived in caves on the moon, and it was rarer than, idk, seeing a shooting star back then. i’ve always wondered if they really exist. he’d say these rabbits had three eyes and were super difficult to control, but were as friendly as cats once you gained their trust. almost like an animal that shouldn’t be domesticated, but is domesticable. kind of like a wolf. has anyone seen one?
⇑46 ⇓ 🗨 10
ChilliPepe • 6y ago
ofc not??? wtf you mean a rabbit with 3 eyes
⇑6 ⇓ 2
eeNIeMeeNie • 6y ago
I’ve heard of lions on Jupiter, but never of Moon bunnies
⇑3 ⇓
star1117 • 6y ago • Edited 6y ago
They exist, just like the buffalos of Venus and the lions of Jupiter. No joke. I’m a veterinarian; it’s rare, but every now and then you come across these things.
⊝ ⇑14 ⇓
getDejaVu • 6y ago
and who brings these animals in?
⇑8 ⇓
star1117 • 6y ago
I’m not so sure about that, because we don’t question as much whether the registration they do at the clinic is accurate, but large animals are cultivated on specific farms, like buffalo (because of the milk). The others are more from the wild.
⇑10 ⇓
theblackcatnero • 6y ago
look, these animals exist, but as the person above said, they’re from the wild. they aren’t domesticable animals, but they can be if you develop a relationship with them. i know this because a friend of mine knows a guy who has one of these. they’re expensive af tho
⊝ ⇑16 ⇓
DazzlingLight23 • 6y ago
And how expensive are they?
⇑2 ⇓
theblackcatnero • 6y ago
A LOT. more than 30M. they’re crazy rare
⇑19 ⇓
DazzlingLight23 • 6y ago
And where did your friend’s friend find one?
⇑6 ⇓
theblackcatnero • 6y ago
:) you’ll have to use other forums, yk
⇑10 ⇓
Hongjoong stops, heart immediately racing.
“Yunho.”
He hears rather than see Yunho moving away from the commotion and drawing closer, leaning towards the flickering screen, the blue light illuminating Hongjoong’s face against the darkness of the universe.
“Yeah? What you found?”
Hongjoong doesn’t answer, staring at the numbers.
30M.
Thirty million woolongs.
Thirty.
“Check this out and see if I’m not getting crazy.”
On the left side of his head, Yunho snorts. Then, laughs, incredulous. Then turns Hongjoong around in the chair and looks him straight in the eye, suddenly serious.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
“It’s an online forum, I know”, Hongjoong starts, but Yunho only shakes his head. “But we literally find our bounties in online forums. What if—what if it’s true?”
Yunho stares at him and presses his lips together, thinking.
“Aaaah, he’s cute! Look, look, Captain!” Wooyoung’s voice reaches them and both Hongjoong and Yunho look over their shoulders.
San, inexplicably, managed to calm the rabbit down and holds it like a baby, just as Wooyoung wanted to do when he took it out of the box. The blue eye still moves with a certain distrust and speed, but apart from this it seems calmer, both paws up and head resting on San’s chest, his hand making circular caresses on its stomach. Mingi gets very close to it, and the rabbit shakes a bit but ends up letting him poke its snout with his nose together for a second.
“So you’re saying that Wooyoung found a thing worth thirty million woolongs.”
“I’m not saying this; these people said it six years ago. But if it was worth all that back then, now…”
And if there’s one thing that brought Hongjoong and Yunho together so many years ago, besides the need for shelter and a friend, it was definitely the same hunger for easy money.
Thirty million divided among the six, minus maintenance and food costs, would be more than enough for perhaps two whole months — months of vacation they hadn’t taken since Hongjoong bought the ship from a junkyard in Ganymede and Mingi helped him paint Ghost on the side, more than ten years ago. They could finally stop rationing food and cigarettes, and they could eat real meat instead of chicken or mushrooms.
“Can we keep him?” San approaches slowly, Wooyoung at his heels echoing the request with even more enthusiasm.
Yunho scoffs, eyes moving from Hongjoong’s exhilarated face and the screen, not bothering to look at San to ask, “How do you know it’s a him?”
“It’s obvious”, Wooyoung places a hand on the rabbit’s stomach to spread its body a bit and yes. Without a doubt, it’s a male. “So, can we keep him?”
The second-in-command arches a brow. The captain, however, leans back in the pilot chair and grins, open, in a way that has Wooyoung’s enthusiasm diminishing a bit because he knows Hongjoong.
“Sure. We can keep him here for now.”
🌑