Chapter Text
If anyone else had been in his ear, Namjoon might have been nervous.
As it was, he exhaled slow against the inside of his mask and listened to Jin’s voice cut through the low static of the comms. Calm. Precise. Warm in a way that never showed up in mission transcripts.
“Seventeen seconds to patrol sweep on your floor,” Jin said. “You are still standing in the open, Agent Kim.”
Namjoon smirked under the black fabric. “You know, some people say hello first.”
“Hello. Move.”
He moved.
The corridor was all bare concrete and exposed pipes, the sort of generic industrial architecture that said secretive with a side of cheap. Boots silent on the floor, Namjoon slipped across the camera’s dead zone Yoongi had mapped out for him, then flattened behind a steel column.
“Visual on patrol?” Yoongi asked, his voice lazy and dry from somewhere in the surveillance van.
“Left side, walking triangle formation,” Jimin answered softly. He was perched somewhere outside with a long rifle and too much talent.
“Copy,” Jin said. “Namjoon, wait for my mark, then cross to the lab door on your right.”
Namjoon breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, and let Jin’s voice lock his heartbeat into a steady rhythm. The patrol’s footsteps echoed closer. A flashlight beam washed along the opposite wall, bright and harsh.
“Three, two… now.”
Namjoon moved the instant Jin said it.
He slid from behind the column, crossed the gap in four long strides, and hit the lab door panel with a gloved thumb. The circuit Jin had provided bypass codes for chirped once in protest, then turned green. Namjoon slipped inside and let the door whisper shut behind him.
He heard Jungkook’s low mutter in his ear. “Show off.”
“He can hear you, you know,” Taehyung stage-whispered.
“That is the problem. His ego is already a security risk.”
Namjoon rolled his eyes and moved deeper into the lab. “You boys are very loud for a stealth team.”
“I will mute all of you,” Jin said, and the threat would have sounded more impressive if Namjoon did not hear the faint smile under it. “Status, Namjoon.”
“Lab is clear,” Namjoon said. Banks of powered-down computers lined the walls, black towers blinking with tiny indicator lights. The air smelled like dust and ozone. “Target should be in the secure cabinet at the far end.”
“Right side,” Yoongi prompted. “Behind the second terminal.”
Namjoon reached it in a few steps. The cabinet was waist high, door locked with an outdated but heavy-duty mechanical latch. He crouched, pulled a compact pry tool from his thigh holster, and worked the lock.
Behind the glass, something small and dark glinted.
“Encrypted hard drive,” Jin said in his ear, reading off a screen half a world away. “Size of your palm. One of a kind. If you drop it, I am breaking up with you.”
Namjoon huffed a quiet laugh. “You would not.”
“Try me.”
The lock gave with a stubborn metallic click. Namjoon opened the cabinet and saw the drive sitting on a foam cradle, black casing unmarked except for a single serial number stenciled in white.
He picked it up with care and slid it into the padded pocket inside his vest, right over his heart.
“Target acquired,” he said. “Tell Hoseok to start warming up my ride.”
“Already on it,” Hoseok replied. His voice on comms always reminded Namjoon of sunshine through glass. “Helicopter is three minutes out from the primary extraction point. We just need you out of the building before then.”
“Working on it.”
Namjoon closed the cabinet, wiped any obvious tool marks from the metal out of habit, and crossed the lab again. His movements were quick, efficient, unhurried. He could feel his pulse steady, his mind sliding into that clean focus where the world shrank to doors and angles and distances.
“Taehyung,” Jin said. “Perimeter north side?”
“Clear for now,” Taehyung replied. “I can see the gate. No movement.”
“Jungkook?”
“South side’s quiet. Got a visual on the access road.”
“Jimin?”
“Roof is boring,” Jimin said. “I can see the helipad from here though. Wind looks good.”
“Good,” Jin said. “Namjoon, retrace your path and head back to the stairwell. We keep it simple.”
Namjoon hesitated at the lab door, hand on the panel. “Simple? That does not sound like us.”
“Do not jinx it, Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi said.
“Fine, fine. Bringing our very expensive flash drive home.”
He opened the door.
The corridor outside was still empty, the patrol’s footsteps fading somewhere down the curve of the hallway. Namjoon stepped out, turned toward the stairwell at the far end, and counted the cameras as he passed. Each little black dome was already blind, courtesy of Yoongi’s looping feed.
“Namjoon,” Jin said. “Once you hit the stairwell, you are two floors up from exit B. Hoseok’s route has you out in one minute forty if everything holds.”
“If everything holds,” Namjoon repeated. “You are very optimistic.”
“I am highly motivated.”
Namjoon smiled without meaning to. “Because of the world saving, or because of me?”
There was a tiny pause.
“Move,” Jin said, a shade softer, and Namjoon’s chest warmed.
He picked up his pace.
He was halfway down the corridor when the alarm went off.
It started as a single sharp buzz, then exploded into a wail that stabbed into his skull. Red lights sprang to life above the doors, pulsing in time with the siren.
“Shit,” Yoongi breathed. “They tripped a failsafe. Cameras just popped back online.”
“Patrols are changing,” Jimin said immediately. “Movement on the east and west sides.”
“Reinforcements entering from the south access road,” Jungkook added. “I have two, maybe three trucks.”
“North gate is closing,” Taehyung said. “They are locking everything down.”
Namjoon’s feet were already pounding on the concrete. He sprinted for the stairwell door and hit it with his shoulder, pushing it open to the bare metal stairs.
“Abort primary extraction,” Hoseok snapped, his voice losing its usual lazy ease. “Helicopter cannot land on a hot roof.”
“Copy,” Jin said. “Namjoon, new plan. Down two floors as fast as you can. Yoongi, I need a secondary exit.”
Namjoon started down the stairs, taking them three at a time. The siren echoed painfully inside the enclosed space. He could hear distant shouting now, boots on metal from somewhere below.
“Stairwell B has hostiles on the ground floor,” Yoongi said. “They will cut him off before he gets there.”
“Then I need another door,” Jin said. His voice had gone flat in that way that meant his brain was moving faster than his mouth could keep up.
Namjoon crossed the landing and charged down another flight.
Something thundered above him.
He had only enough time to register the dull crack of an explosion before the world slammed sideways.
The stairwell shook like a living thing. Heat and pressure punched into him, hurling him down the stairs. His shoulder crashed against the railing. Concrete dust filled his nose and mouth. Metal screamed, lights flickered, and part of the upper landing collapsed in a roar of rubble.
He hit the next landing in a graceless sprawl, air knocked out of his lungs.
For a few seconds, all he could hear was his own heartbeat and the high ring in his ears.
“Namjoon?” Jin’s voice broke through the static, suddenly too loud. “Namjoon, talk to me.”
Namjoon blinked up at the flickering light. The stairwell above was a jagged hole of broken concrete and twisted rebar. Smoke curled from somewhere near the gap. Dust drifted down like ash.
He swallowed and forced air back into his lungs.
“I am…” He coughed, spat dust, and tried again. “I am here.”
“Report,” Jin said. No nickname, no softness. Only that sharp edge Namjoon privately loved and everyone else respected.
Namjoon tried to sit up and hissed when pain flared white-hot along his ribs. He braced a hand against the wall and took stock.
His left shoulder throbbed from where it had slammed into the railing. His right side felt like someone had taken a bat to it. Every breath made a bright, sharp ache flare along bone. Dust and a little blood smeared his glove when he wiped at his nose.
“Stairwell took a hit,” he said. “Landing above me collapsed. I am in one piece.”
“Define one piece,” Yoongi said.
Namjoon shifted experimentally. The pain dug in deeper, but his arms and legs responded. Nothing felt wrong enough to call broken, but his ribs were definitely going to complain for weeks.
“Bruised,” he said. “Probably cranky about it later. I can still move.”
“Good,” Jin said, but the word came out tight. “You are cut off from the floors above. Yoongi, options.”
“Hang on.” Yoongi’s keys clacked in the background. “Stairwell B is compromised between levels three and four. Namjoon, you are on three?”
“Yeah.”
“Ground floor is crawling now,” Jimin reported. “They are flooding in from the main doors.”
“We need him out a side exit,” Hoseok said. “Jin, can we get access to maintenance corridors?”
“Working on it,” Jin replied. “Yoongi?”
“Right. Namjoon, go down one more level, then take the door on your left. There is a service corridor that runs along the outside wall. It connects to a loading bay on the west side.”
“Copy.”
Namjoon pushed himself to his feet. His ribs protested, sharp and insistent, but they held. He grabbed the stair rail and headed down, slightly slower than before.
The siren was still screaming. His head throbbed in time with it. Dust stung his eyes. Little tremors shuddered through the concrete every time something exploded somewhere else.
“You have twenty hostiles moving toward the west,” Jungkook said quietly. “Looks like they are trying to encircle the building.”
“Extraction is not possible from that side,” Hoseok said immediately. “At least not above ground.”
“I know,” Jin said. “We are not extracting yet. We are keeping him alive.”
Namjoon reached the door Yoongi had directed him to and pushed it open.
The service corridor was narrow, lined with exposed pipes and metal conduit, lit by harsh white strips that flickered under the strain of the alarm system. The air was hotter here, thick with the smell of overheated wiring and dust.
“Left, then straight for thirty meters,” Yoongi said. “You will pass two intersecting passages. Stay on the main line.”
Namjoon moved, one hand trailing lightly along the wall to steady himself whenever his vision blurred at the edges.
“Taehyung, how is north?” Jin asked.
“Gate is shut and guarded now,” Taehyung replied, voice low. “We are pulling back to the backup positions.”
“South side is a parking lot party,” Jungkook said. “We are falling back too. Hoseok, I can cover the road to your secondary staging area.”
“Got it,” Hoseok said. “Everyone regroup at point Charlie. We are not leaving the area yet.”
“Correction,” Namjoon said, stepping over a coiled hose. “You are all leaving the area once you are clear. No need to risk the whole team for one man.”
“Here we go,” Yoongi muttered.
Jimin snorted quietly. “You are not that special, hyung.”
“Agree to disagree,” Namjoon said, and if his smile felt a little forced now, nobody commented.
“Shut up and keep moving,” Jin said. “You are not dying today.”
Namjoon’s chest tightened. He focused on breathing through it, carefully keeping his exhale even. “Yes, sir.”
He had almost reached the second intersection when he heard it.
The soft scrape of a boot on concrete.
Namjoon froze. The sound came from the perpendicular corridor just ahead of him, to the right. He could not see around the corner, but he could feel it, that prickle along the back of his neck that meant eyes on him.
“Contact,” he said quietly into the comm. “Service corridor three. Unknown number.”
The channel went very still.
“Fall back if you can,” Jin said at once. “Do not engage. We do not know their numbers.”
Retreat would mean stepping back into the stairwell, then trying a different path with enemies flooding the building in every direction. He could feel time closing in on him like a fist.
Namjoon flexed his hand around his sidearm instead.
“I do not think I have that option.”
He heard the click of a safety being flipped off.
A soldier stepped into view at the junction.
He wore dark fatigues, a tactical vest, and a half-mask that hid the lower half of his face. His eyes narrowed the moment he saw Namjoon. The rifle in his hands came up in a smooth, practiced motion.
Namjoon moved before he consciously thought about it.
He threw himself sideways, behind the nearest section of exposed pipe, as the rifle barked. The corridor rang with the crack of the shot. Concrete burst where he had been standing, stinging his face with chips.
He hit the ground hard, ribs lighting up like someone had shoved a knife between them. He grunted, rolled, and drew his own pistol as he went.
“Namjoon,” Jin said, too level. “Report.”
Namjoon did not answer. He could hear his own breathing, too loud in his ears, and the rush of blood as his body poured adrenaline into already shaking muscles.
The soldier advanced down the corridor.
Namjoon waited, breath held, counting the steps by sound.
One. Two. Three.
He shot from the floor.
The bullet caught the edge of the soldier’s vest, jerking him sideways. The man recovered faster than Namjoon wanted him to and fired back. The shot tore past Namjoon’s shoulder close enough that heat licked his skin. Pain flared, sharp and shocking, but there was no time to check.
Namjoon cursed under his breath and kicked at the soldier’s knee as the man came into range. The joint bent sideways with a sick crack. The man yelled and stumbled, his rifle swinging wide.
Namjoon used the momentum, grabbed the barrel, and slammed it up into the man’s jaw. The impact snapped the soldier’s head back. The rifle went off, the shot deafening this close, sparks bursting from the ceiling.
Someone swore in Namjoon’s ear. He ignored it.
He twisted, ripped the rifle from the man’s hands, and drove his elbow into the soldier’s throat. The man gagged, clawing at his neck. Namjoon shoved him hard, sending him crashing into the opposite wall, then followed and drove his shoulder into the man’s chest.
Ribs gave under the impact. The soldier sagged, sliding down the concrete.
Namjoon held on until the man stopped moving.
Then he staggered back, chest heaving.
The rifle slipped from his fingers and clattered on the floor.
There was a ringing silence on the comm line. He knew they had heard all of it. The shots, the grunts, the short, ugly sounds of people trying to kill each other at close range.
He closed his eyes briefly and sucked in a breath.
Fire licked through his right side. The world tilted.
“Namjoon,” Jin said. His voice snapped like a breaking wire. “Answer me.”
Namjoon exhaled slowly and opened his eyes again. The edges of his vision were too bright, like the world had been outlined in white.
“I am fine,” he lied, because his brain could not make the words for anything else yet. “One hostile neutralized.”
“That is not fine,” Jin said. “Status.”
Namjoon looked down at himself and finally saw the dark bloom spreading across his black shirt, just under his ribs on the right side.
Oh.
He had known the second shot had been close. He had felt the burn. He had not realized the bullet had actually found him until now, when the initial shock started to drain away and left a deep, pulsing ache that throbbed in time with his heart.
He put his hand over the wound. His palm came away wet.
“Namjoon,” Jin said again. “Say something.”
“I said I am fine,” Namjoon replied, forcing his voice into something that sounded almost bored. “He fought dirty. I fought better. End of story.”
“Do not give me that,” Jin snapped. “You sound wrong.”
Namjoon closed his eyes briefly. The siren’s wail had faded into a dull roar. The world felt too small, the corridor pressing in.
“Yoongi,” Jin said. “Tell me his vitals. Now.”
Yoongi made a frustrated sound. “We talked about this. I do not have a biometric connection to him. I have audio, that is it.”
“Then listen,” Jin said. “Everyone shut up.”
The comms went quiet except for the faint hiss of static.
Namjoon swallowed and tried to control his breathing, but each inhale dragged fire along his side and each exhale felt too thin.
He pressed harder on the wound and straightened up.
“I still have the drive,” he said, because that felt like the most important thing. His voice came out rough. “Target is secure.”
Nobody answered for a beat.
“Of course you do,” Jin said. “You idiot.”
Namjoon let out a breath that might have been a laugh. He stepped over the fallen soldier, each movement sending a fresh stab of pain through his side, and headed down the corridor.
“One corridor down from your current position is a junction,” Yoongi said, his voice clipped now. “Left at the first intersection. There is an access hatch that leads to a lower maintenance level. It is not on the main security grid.”
“How friendly is that lower level?” Hoseok asked.
“It is not friendly,” Yoongi said. “But it is less unfriendly than where he is standing now.”
“Story of my life,” Namjoon said.
His boots scuffed against the concrete. It took more effort than it should have to keep his steps even. The world had started to feel like it was sliding sideways in slow motion.
“Namjoon,” Taehyung said quietly. “We are clear of the immediate perimeter. Say the word and we will circle back in.”
“No,” Namjoon said, too fast. The word came out sharp. “Negative. You follow Hoseok’s route and you hold position. I am not dragging all of you into this mess.”
“There is another option,” Jungkook cut in, and Namjoon could hear the stubborn tilt to his voice even without seeing his face. “We can divide fire, draw them off the building, and give you a path.”
“That is not an option,” Hoseok said.
“It is,” Jungkook argued.
“It is not,” Jin said, and that ended it.
Silence settled again, heavier than before.
Namjoon reached the intersection and turned left, boots echoing in the empty space. His hand stayed pressed to his side. Warmth kept leaking through his fingers, steady and relentless.
“Yoongi,” Jin said, his voice more controlled again. “Talk him in.”
“Copy.” Yoongi blew out a breath. “Namjoon, another ten meters. You will see the access hatch on the right wall.”
Namjoon counted steps. One. Two. Three. The numbers were easier to hold onto than anything else.
“You are not allowed to die,” Jin said suddenly.
Namjoon almost smiled. “Possessive.”
“Accurate,” Jin said. “You are not allowed. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Namjoon said.
The hatch was a square metal panel bolted into the wall near the floor, a yellow and black warning sticker half peeled away. He crouched and his ribs protested with a fresh burst of pain. The world swam for a second. He blinked through it and got his fingers under the edge of the hatch, then wrenched it open.
Cool air breathed out, carrying the faint smell of earth and old water.
“Ladder inside,” Yoongi said. “Goes down two levels. Then you are in maintenance. From there…” Papers rustled in the background, then keys clacked. “From there, we can route you to a storage area that connects to an old drainage tunnel.”
“How old?” Hoseok asked.
Yoongi hesitated. “Old.”
“Of course,” Namjoon muttered.
He eased himself onto the ladder, one rung at a time. The metal was slick with condensation. His left hand gripped tight, his right stayed clamped over his side.
By the time he reached the bottom, his muscles were shaking.
He stepped off the last rung and found himself in a low tunnel with pipes running overhead. The ceiling was close enough that he could touch it if he straightened. Water dripped somewhere, a slow, patient sound.
He took a breath and his vision peppered with black dots. The edges of the world narrowed.
“Namjoon,” Jin said. “Status.”
Namjoon leaned back against the tunnel wall for a moment and closed his eyes. The cool concrete felt good against his sweat damp neck.
“I am underground,” he said. “Still moving.”
“That is not a status,” Jin said. “That is a location.”
“How technical do you want me to be?”
“Technical enough,” Jin said. “Tell me your injuries.”
Namjoon winced.
He had hoped he could keep skating past that question. If he talked about it, it would become real in a way it was not yet. As long as he kept his world narrowed to forward and left and down, the rest might not catch up to him.
He slid down the wall until he was sitting. His legs did not feel like they were quite part of him anymore.
“Namjoon,” Jin said. “Do not make me order you.”
Namjoon smiled weakly. “You are already ordering me.”
“Then follow the order,” Jin said. “Status. Now.”
Namjoon opened his eyes and looked down at his hand. It was still clamped over his side. His glove was soaked through.
“Fine,” he said quietly. “One, I probably cracked a few ribs when the stairwell blew. Breathing hurts. I am still breathing.”
Someone swore under their breath on the line.
“Two, I bashed my shoulder pretty good. Range of motion is not great, but it works.”
“Head?” Jin asked, voice tight.
“Rung of stairs to the skull,” Namjoon admitted. “I saw a few stars. No double vision. No nausea yet.”
“Yet,” Yoongi muttered.
“And?” Jin asked.
Namjoon swallowed. The words stuck in his throat like something too big to pass.
“And… I picked up another problem in the corridor.”
“What kind of problem,” Jin asked, too quietly.
Namjoon closed his eyes again. He could hear the drip of water. The faint whine of some machine far away. His own heartbeat, thudding hard and fast against his ribs.
“The second shot,” he said. “The one they heard during the fight. It was not a miss.”
Silence fell like a curtain.
“Define ‘not a miss,’” Hoseok said, voice very careful.
Namjoon let out a breath that shook. “It caught me on the right side. Below the ribs. I think it went straight through or at least glanced off. Hard to tell. I am leaking, either way.”
There was no sound for a heartbeat. Two.
Then Jin said, very clearly, “Shit.”
Namjoon huffed out something like a laugh. “I did not want you to worry.”
“Too late,” Jin said. The control was back in his voice, but Namjoon knew him well enough to hear the tremor under it. “Can you walk.”
“Yes,” Namjoon said.
“Without lying to me.”
Namjoon hesitated. “Slowly.”
“Yoongi,” Jin said. “How far to that storage area.”
“From his current position, maybe two hundred meters of tunnel,” Yoongi said, papers rustling again. “Then a set of stairs up to a locked door. Storage room is past that. Once he is in there, he can hole up for a while.”
“How long is a while,” Taehyung asked.
Yoongi exhaled. “Longer than he has if he stays sitting on that floor.”
Namjoon pushed himself up again. Every muscle screamed, but he got his feet under him.
“You heard him,” Namjoon said. “I am on a schedule.”
“Namjoon,” Jin said. “Listen to me. Once you reach that room, you stay put. You do not try to go any farther. You do not play hero. You give me the coordinates and you stay awake.”
“As long as I can,” Namjoon said.
“As long as it takes,” Jin corrected.
Namjoon did not answer that.
He started walking again, one hand scraping along the rough wall for balance, the other pressed hard against his side. Each step sent a dull thud of pain radiating outward, but as long as he kept moving, he could pretend his body was still a vehicle he could steer.
“You should all fall back,” he said after a while. Talking helped keep his mind from drifting. “They will spread the search radius soon. No point in you being this close when they do.”
“Negative,” Hoseok said at once. “We maintain our position until we confirm your status.”
“My status is currently alive,” Namjoon said. “If it changes, you will know.”
“Not funny,” Jungkook said.
“I am hilarious,” Namjoon replied.
“You are not,” Jin said. “Do not try to make them laugh. Save your breath.”
“I like it when they laugh,” Namjoon said quietly. His voice went soft without his permission. “It means they are okay.”
The tunnel curved slightly. The air grew cooler, the damp smell stronger. A drop of water landed on his cheek and slid down like cold sweat.
“Namjoon,” Jin said. “Why did you not tell me about the shot earlier.”
Namjoon thought about answering honestly. That it had felt like admitting it would make it too real. That he had seen the way missions could tilt, how one injury could turn a team from rescuers into recovery.
So he went with the easy truth instead.
“Because if you knew, you might have pulled them closer,” he said. “I did not want that.”
“You are allowed to let people care about you,” Jin said.
“Later,” Namjoon said. “When I am not leaking on their behalf.”
“Stop calling it leaking,” Yoongi said.
Namjoon smiled faintly, then stumbled as his foot caught on an uneven patch of concrete. He jerked, caught himself against the wall, and felt something inside him tear a little more.
The world went gray for a second. He could hear Jin calling his name from very far away.
“Still here,” he managed, once sound resolved into words again. “Sorry. The floor and I are not on speaking terms.”
“Do not scare me like that,” Jin said quietly.
Namjoon swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “Not my favorite hobby either.”
He kept walking.
The tunnels stretched out in front of him, dim and endless. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else, moving on their own impulses while his mind floated a few inches behind his eyes.
“Almost there,” Yoongi said. “You should be seeing a set of metal steps soon, on your left.”
Namjoon blinked and realized he had passed one already. He stopped, turned carefully, and saw the narrow staircase leading upward into shadows.
“Got them,” he said.
“Good,” Hoseok said. “Once you are in the storage room, we can hash out extraction options.”
“Like what,” Taehyung asked.
“Like whether we come in on foot, or whether we can get close enough for a tunnel extraction,” Hoseok said. “Let me worry about that part. Let him get to cover first.”
Namjoon took the steps slower than he wanted to, placing each foot carefully. The wound in his side pulsed with every heartbeat, hot and insistent.
At the top of the stairs, he found a heavy steel door with a mechanical lock and a faded sign that once warned authorized personnel only.
“Door in front of me,” he said. “Yoongi, tell me you like outdated locks.”
“They are my favorite kind,” Yoongi said. “Same pry tool you used for the cabinet. There is a sweet spot just above the latch. You do not have the strength for precision, so jam it and lean hard.”
“Comforting.”
Namjoon wedged the tool into the seam and leaned his full weight into it. His ribs screamed. The wounded side flared. Spots danced in front of his eyes.
The lock finally gave with a protesting clank.
He almost went with it, but he caught the door with his shoulder and pushed it open.
The room beyond was big and mostly empty, lit by one struggling fluorescent tube in the ceiling. Rows of metal shelves stood mostly bare, dust thick on their surfaces. It smelled like stale air and old cardboard.
“Inside,” Yoongi said. “There should be a wall to your left where you can sit and keep the door in view.”
Namjoon stepped into the room, pulled the door shut behind him, and slid the bolts home. He did not trust the lock to hold, but it was something.
He turned, leaned his back against the wall Yoongi had suggested, and let himself slide down until he was sitting.
His body felt strangely light and heavy at the same time. His fingers fumbled with the vest straps. He needed to see the wound, but the thought of lifting his hand made his head spin.
“Namjoon,” Jin said. “Talk to me.”
“I am in,” Namjoon said. He let his head fall back against the wall and stared up at the flickering light. “Door is shut. No immediate company.”
“Give me your coordinates,” Jin said. “Yoongi will confirm the location.”
Namjoon rattled off the grid markers they had memorized for the operation. Yoongi confirmed them with a quiet hum.
“Okay,” Hoseok said. Papers rustled on his end. “We can work with that. There is a drainage access point one block north of there. If we can get someone down into the tunnels without lighting up the whole neighborhood, we might pull him out directly.”
“Risk assessment,” Jin said.
“High,” Hoseok admitted. “But manageable if we time it right.”
“You are not risking anyone,” Namjoon said. He could feel his words starting to slur. Each syllable took more effort. There was an old utility sink in the corner, a rusted faucet and a stack of dusty plastic bottles on a lower shelf. “You know where I am. I have water, maybe. I can stay put. You come back when it is safe.”
“In a few days,” Jungkook said, disbelief thick in his voice. “Hyung.”
“They will not search this deep,” Namjoon said. “Once they do a sweep and do not find anyone, they will stand down. You can slip back in later and grab the drive.”
There was the smallest pause.
“And you,” Jin said. His voice had gone very soft and very dangerous at the same time.
Namjoon let his eyes drift half shut. “Movement is not really on my to do list.”
“Do not,” Jin said. “Do not finish that.”
Namjoon smiled faintly. The effort made his chest ache.
“I am just saying,” he murmured. “Mission objective secured. That is what matters.”
“Fuck off,” Jin said, and the word came out rough enough to scrape. “You matter.”
Namjoon’s smile twitched wider.
“You are very sweet for a mission controller.”
“I am not sweet,” Jin snapped. “I am furious. Hold on.”
“Yes, sir,” Namjoon whispered.
The siren was only a faint echo now, somewhere far above. The room hummed softly with the sound of old fluorescent wiring. His body felt distant and heavy, like it belonged at the end of a very long hallway.
“Stay awake,” Jin said. “Talk to me.”
Namjoon licked his lips. His tongue felt too big. “What should we talk about.”
“Anything,” Jin said. “Tell me what you see.”
“Dust,” Namjoon said. “Shelves. One very ugly light. It is like that storage closet near the training center. The one where you hid the good coffee.”
“I did not hide it,” Jin said. “I stored it. There is a difference.”
“You hid it,” Namjoon said. “From your own team.”
“Because they waste it,” Jin said. “And do not change the subject.”
“You told me to talk,” Namjoon murmured. His eyelids felt heavy. He could hear the faint rustle of movement on the comm line, fast and urgent. Vehicles. Boots. The subtle static that meant they were switching channels upper level. “I am talking.”
“Keep doing it,” Jin said. “Namjoon, look at the ceiling.”
“I am.”
“What color is it.”
Namjoon frowned a little. “Off white. Yellow in the corners.”
“Good,” Jin said. “That means you are looking at it and not closing your eyes.”
Namjoon made a low sound that might have been a laugh. “You are bossy.”
“Correct,” Jin said. “Tell me when you feel yourself fading. Do not just disappear on me.”
Namjoon breathed in, shallow and careful. His hand was still pressed to his side. He was not sure when that had become automatic, like a habit his body clung to without thinking.
“I will try,” he said.
“Not try,” Jin said. “Do it.”
“Yes, sir.”
The word sir felt safe on his tongue, familiar as a well worn handle.
Namjoon could hear the team moving, their voices now overlapping with other ones he did not recognize. Command node chatter. Vehicle designations. Hoseok’s voice cutting cleanly through the noise as he coordinated routes.
Every so often, he heard Jin’s voice too. Quick, sharp, issuing orders to people who were not Namjoon. It grounded him somehow, knowing Jin was out there pushing the world into alignment.
“Namjoon,” Jin said, and whenever he said his name it was different. “Stay with me.”
“I am here,” Namjoon said.
“For how long,” Jin asked.
Namjoon thought about that. Blood loss made time feel strange. Seconds stretched and blurred. He knew, intellectually, that he could not hold this line forever. That his body would eventually make the choice for him.
“Long enough,” he said softly.
“Not good enough,” Jin said.
Namjoon smiled weakly. “Demanding.”
“Correct again.”
Namjoon wanted to tell him something. Something important, something that had been buzzing at the back of his skull like a trapped insect since the first alarm went off. He tried to pull it forward and found the edges of it slippery.
“Hey,” he said.
“I am here,” Jin replied at once. “What is it.”
Namjoon swallowed. His throat felt dry. “The hard drive. Make sure it does not end up where it started.”
“It will not,” Jin said. “We have it now.”
“We,” Namjoon repeated. His vision blurred in and out of focus. “That is nice.”
“Namjoon,” Jin said, and there was that break in his voice again. “Answer me.”
“Still here,” Namjoon murmured. “Would be easier if you were actually in the room.”
There was a small rustle on the other end, like someone knocking something over.
“Working on it,” Jin said. “You just have to hold on a little longer.”
Namjoon let his eyes drift closed for a heartbeat, then forced them open again. The light overhead was a halo of buzzing fluorescence.
“I like your voice,” he said, too honest.
There was a pause.
“I am aware,” Jin said, but the words were softer than before. “You can listen to it for as long as you want, so do not you dare cut the signal.”
Namjoon smiled.
The room seemed to tilt. Cold crept in from the edges, like someone had opened a window inside his veins. His hand on his side felt numb.
He heard something, distant at first. The muted thump of boots. The slam of a door. Voices, too muffled to make out.
His brain tried to sort through it and failed.
Then, suddenly, the comms filled with a new sound.
Metal hitting concrete. A door crashing open.
Namjoon blinked slow, heavy, and saw the storage room door slam inward, bouncing off the wall. Figures poured through the opening, shadow against harsh light.
One of them surged forward faster than the rest.
Black tactical gear. Familiar lines of his body, even under armor. Eyes that locked on Namjoon like a magnet had snapped into place.
Namjoon frowned, confused.
“Jin?” he whispered.
Jin dropped to his knees in front of him and everything else blurred.
Namjoon let his head tip to the side and finally, mercifully, let go. The light overhead smeared into white, then vanished.