Chapter Text
The next time they dream, it’s of their ship.
It looks just as they remember it, massive masts and sails and carved prow, but this time, something is different. Instead of soaring through the sky, majestic and awe-inspiring, it’s been struck down. It’s grounded, unmoving, in what looks to be the middle of a desert.
Lodged in a sand dune, listing sadly to one side, stranded far from the seas it was built to sail. The sight is tragic, pulls at their hearts. This isn’t where it belongs. This isn’t how it should be.
The ship needs them as much as they need it.
It’s waiting for them.
When Other Hongjoong finally returns to them, a little over a week later, Yeosang is by his side.
The group rush forward, giddy with relief, are opening their mouths to cry out for Yeosang, to welcome him back, when they abruptly realise that something isn’t quite right.
The man beside Other Hongjoong has a face devoid of expression, barely interested in the group. He tilts his head back, looking down his nose at them, and they realise that although he isn’t wearing the mask and hat, his other clothes are just the same as Other Hongjoong’s – all black apart from the silver necklaces and studs on his jacket.
This isn’t their Yeosang.
Excitement draining abruptly, Hongjoong and the others come to a halt. If Other Hongjoong notices their sudden disappointment, he doesn’t react. Just keeps his leisurely pace until the gap between them is closed, then regards them.
“Evening,” he says with a nod. “Got some help for you, since you’re still a man down.”
Hongjoong’s eyes narrow, and he jerks his head at the Other Yeosang, who is silent so far.
“What’s he doing here?” he asks sharply. “Is this your way of saying we’re not getting Yeosang back from your world? You’re replacing ours with yours?”
“Of course not,” says Other Hongjoong, looking affronted. “As if I’d give up a member of my crew for you. You have him for a week, no more, no less.”
Hongjoong raises an eyebrow.
“How generous of you,” he says snidely. “And why, exactly, do we have him for a week?”
“He’ll be of use to you,” says Other Hongjoong, as though it’s obvious. “You need information. We have knowledge you don’t. I can only spare one crew member for now, and I thought it would be less confusing to fill the gap, rather than have two of someone else.”
Unfortunately, nothing he’s said is incorrect. Still, it doesn’t sit right with Hongjoong, nor the rest of the group, judging by how tense everyone looks.
Other Hongjoong doesn’t bother waiting for their agreement though.
“Anyway, I need to go,” he says, “We’re running out of time. Good luck to you all.”
And with that, he turns on his heel and strides away, leaving them alone with the doppelganger.
One by one, they turn to look at this Other Yeosang. He looks back calmly.
“So,” he says, in a voice which is both jarringly familiar and unsettlingly different from the one they know, “You wanted to know about the pirate ship.”
Hongjoong scowls distrustfully.
“What if we did?”
Yeosang rolls his eyes.
“The Captain said you were asking about it,” he says, nodding in the direction Other Hongjoong left in. “And I can tell you how to find it.”
And that certainly gets their interest. The group glance at each other, and can tell that they’re thinking the same thing. Despite their distrust, curiosity wins out.
“…Go on, then,” says Hongjoong after a moment.
Yeosang smirks knowingly.
“Alright,” he says. “Listen carefully. Here’s what you’ll need to do.”
The first thing you’ll need is the ship’s papers. If you want the ship to be yours, then you need the certificate of ownership.
It’s not Seonghwa’s preference to split up again, especially considering that they’re still missing a member, but unfortunately it’s necessary. They need to be quick, they need to be stealthy, and they need to avoid raising suspicion. Which is why there are only four of them in the car now, pulling up outside the dingey little pawn shop in the dead of night.
Seonghwa parks them right before the doors and they’re quick to jump out, pulling their gear and bags out after them. Jongho jimmies the door open with a crowbar, and they’re inside, pulling off their masks and looking around.
As expected, the shop is filled with treasures and trinkets and curios, every shelf occupied. Clocks and glass bottles and lanterns and wooden boxes, even a sword resting on a stand which Yunho examines with interest.
No sign of any documents though.
Seonghwa turns to Other Yeosang.
“Are you sure it’s here?” he asks.
“It’s here,” he replies confindently. “But not on the shelves. Not on display. They wouldn’t make it that easy.”
Turning slowly on the spot as he scans the room, his eyes glint as they alight on the bookshelves behind the desk. He strides over, and Seonghwa follows him, keeping a careful distance between them.
This other Yeosang is cold, sharp, calculating, with an unpleasant smile like he knows more than they do and finds the whole business vaguely amusing. None of them are comfortable around him, and none of them like him much.
“We don’t need you here,” Wooyoung had snapped at him earlier, back at the abandoned building where they were talking over their plans.
Other Yeosang had just tilted his head, looking down his nose at Wooyoung.
“Yes, you do.”
“We don’t want you.”
“You don’t have to.”
Wooyoung had huffed angrily and turned away, and when Seonghwa tactfully suggested that Wooyoung not come to the pawn shop with them, and instead accompany San, no one had argued.
Now Seonghwa follows Yeosang’s lead and begins searching the shelves, leafing quickly through various books to check for any papers hidden inside. They search in silence for a minute or two, until Seonghwa hears a small noise of triumph, and looks up to see Yeosang pushing one of the bookshelves aside.
Seonghwa straightens at once, beckoning to the others and moving to stand behind Yeosang a whole section of the bookshelf slides away. Seonghwa hears a sharp intake of breath from behind him as the other two crane their necks to see what they’ve discovered.
Behind the bookshelf is a safe.
And if you want to find your way to the ship, you’ll first need to find the compass.
“Out you go, scum.”
The sharp noise of a car door shoved open, then Mingi himself is shoved out, into the darkness. He hits the ground hard, feeling one shoulder jar under the impact. Before he has time to even sit up, the car door is slamming once more, and the car is roaring off, leaving him in a cloud of dust.
Mingi climbs painfully to his feet and watches the car vanish into the night. His cheek smarts, a bruise surely forming where he was punched earlier, and the cut across his nose stings in the cold night air. That could have gone a lot better.
Still, he thinks as his fingers curl around the little remote control in his pocket, it could also have gone a lot worse. They may have pegged him as a thief not long after he joined their little gathering, but they’re not half as clever as they think they are.
He begins to walk away, getting a little more distance between himself and the vehicle. Begins counting down, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…
And then he flicks the switch, and fire blooms across the night sky.
The ship has been sealed for years, waiting for its crew to return. To unlock it again, you’ll need the key.
Hongjoong sits on the piano bench in the grand, empty hall, dread crawling up in his stomach as he looks around. It was meant to be here, it had to be here – but the room holds nothing. It’s totally bare, no cupboards, no shelves, just the piano standing by the window, with the model ship resting on top. Hongjoong’s searched every inch of the room, even rolled back the rugs to check underneath them and looked inside the piano, but he’s still empty-handed.
The miniature version of their ship stands there, as though mocking him. So familiar and yet totally incomprehensible. There’s no doubt that it’s the ship from their dreams, far too similar to be a coincidence, and its presence here must mean something, must mean that he’s in the right place. But with every last corner of the room already explored, where is he supposed to go from here? What is his next step?
He rises suddenly, kicking back the piano seat and slamming his hand against the top of the instrument in frustration. Yeosang had warned them that this would be the most difficult puzzle piece to find, that’s why Hongjoong had taken it on in the first place, but now he’s wondering if one of the others would have done a better job. As their leader, he thought he was up to the task, but clearly he was wrong.
The others will all be doing their part, fetching the other things they need and gathering them together, and it was all be for nothing if Hongjoong can’t bring them the key.
They’re going to fail, and it will all be his fault.
Hongjoong feels ill – there’s sweat beading on his forehead, his vision is swimming. He moves as if in a daze, and then, in a sudden burst of fury, he spins, seizing the stick behind him and whirling back around to slam it into the piano’s lid prop. The prop breaks instantly, sending the lid crashing down.
The noise echoes through the empty hall and Hongjoong turns, panting, to look around the room one more time. His eyes land on one of the only other things in the room besides himself, the ship and the piano – a little oil lamp in the corner.
It’s lit, flame flickering brightly, and the sight sets something burning in Hongjoong too, causing him to stride forward and snatch it up.
If he’s going to fail his task, then it won’t be without a fight. He’s taking this stupid hall down with him.
And finally, to complete the set and find your ship, you’ll need the spyglass.
San and Wooyoung are in the backroom of a seedy club, engaged in a game of poker.
Not a fair one, of course. The stakes are too high for that. They’ve been sharing their cards since the beginning, shuffling them back and forth under the table as needed to make sure they achieve the results they’re after. They’ve made sure to win a few rounds each, to keep their host’s interest, but also to lose a couple of times, so as not to be suspicious. So far, it seems to be working.
The host in question, a large man wearing dark sunglasses, with a long beard and a wide, smug smile, lays down his cards and chuckles as Wooyoung and San both sigh and admit defeat for this turn.
“You two play a good game,” he says, looking between them in amusement. “What say we raise the stakes a little?”
“What are you offering?” asks San, careful not to look too interested.
The man smirks, then reaches down beside his chair to retrieve a leather-covered box. He sets it on the table, undoing the old-fashioned brass latch, then spins it around to show off the contents.
Wooyoung and San share a glance. This is it – the spyglass Other Yeosang told them about.
“I suppose one more round wouldn’t hurt,” says San.
Back at the smouldering remains of the exploded car, Mingi picks over the wreckage dispassionately. He steps over flaming scraps of car seat and upholstery, over scattered chunks of engine and shattered window glass, until he finally spots what he’s looking for.
A little wooden box, with a golden anchor embossed on the lid.
Mingi crouches to retrieve it from where it’s sitting on the dusty ground. He opens the box carefully, and smiles when he sees the contents, the metal glinting in the light of the flames surrounding them.
The compass.
Standing around the pawn shop’s safe, the others jump into action at a nod from Seonghwa. There’s a powerful drill in the bag of tools they brought with them, and they retrieve it now. Other Yeosang clearly knows what he’s doing, has done this many times before, and he has the door open in no time.
“You’re welcome,” he says smoothly, stepping back and dropping the drill by his side.
Not bothering to reply, Yunho shoulders past him, ignoring the jewels and the piles of money as he reaches for the documents sitting on the very top of the stack. He picks up the aged paper carefully, skimming over the contents.
Certificate of Registration it reads across the top. Below is the declaration of ownership for the vessel listed. The name on the dotted line is the Destiny Ship. Yunho glances back at Seonghwa, who nods. They’ve done it.
“Alright, no time to celebrate,” says Jongho shortly, checking his watch. “Everyone, back to the car.”
The air in the grand hall is heating up, flames climbing higher and higher, licking at the piano and spreading across the floor. From where he’s standing on top of the piano, Hongjoong feels a savage, bitter satisfaction at the sight. Turning now to the stupid model ship, he snatches it up and throws it down with all his might.
He has one moment of triumph, watching it shatter into pieces against the hard floor, before a sudden white-hot agony overtakes his senses. Shouting in pain, Hongjoong clutches at his eye, realising in horror that part of the burning ship has flown into it. He presses both hands against it, desperately trying to alleviate the pain, but it only helps a little.
Then, panting, Hongjoong looks up through the flames and finally sees it.
There in the ruins of the model ship, glittering in the firelight, is the key.
The man sitting across the card table has a decent poker face, but smugness is radiating from him in waves. He thinks he has this round in the bag.
Looking down at his own cards, Wooyoung wonders if he’s right. His own hand isn’t spectacular. Hopefully, he and San can make something worthwhile between the two of them.
Under the table, San flashes Wooyoung a quick sign, his pointer finger raised.
One.
Wooyoung scans his own hand and, spotting the ace of hearts, nods subtly. San’s lips twitch in satisfaction. Then, leaning out over the table, San pushes forward every chip he has, sweeping them all into the centre, going all in.
As the man’s eyebrows raise with interest, Wooyoung lets the ace drop from his between his fingers, catching it under the table in his other hand. He flicks it to San, careful not to look. He can trust San to catch it.
Sure enough, San lays his hand on the table, three aces and one queen, then drops Wooyoung’s ace on top. A winning hand if ever there was one.
Silence falls over the table. For a long time, their host says nothing, simply staring at San’s cards. Wooyoung holds himself perfectly still, tense with anticipation.
Then, their host lets out a laugh and claps his hands, applauding them slowly as he shakes his head.
“Yeah, you two play a good game alright,” he says. “Too good.”
He rises to his feet, and his hand grasps the spyglass box just as Wooyoung leans forward to grab onto it too. It’s caught between them as their eyes meet across the table.
“Hey, now,” says Wooyoung, trying to sound calm and collected, “San won it, it’s ours. You gambled, you lost.”
The man smiles, but there’s no warmth in it.
“Well,” he says, dangerously low, “You could say I’m a poor loser.”
The side door swings open, revealing two thugs in leather jackets and dark glasses, just like their boss. Three against two, and they’ve got the advantage in size and strength. This doesn’t look good.
Wooyoung’s hand jumps to the tiny device hidden in his pocket, jamming his finger down on the button. Hoping, praying, that the others are close enough to receive their signal, close enough to help them.
The men tower over Wooyoung and San where they’re still seated at the table, one standing on either side of the host, faces stony and menacing.
Wooyoung rises slowly to his feet, sharing a worried glance with San, and braces himself.
Then, the noisy revving of a car engine reaches their ears.
The room’s occupants have only seconds to react before a black four wheel drive comes crashing through what used to be the backroom’s far wall. Wooyoung ducks, covering his head with his arms against the flying rubble, as chunks of broken concrete go crashing down and dust fills the air.
As it clears, they see four figures in black hopping out of the vehicle – the rest of their crew. They’re saved. Grinning in relief, Wooyoung lunges across the table to snatch up the spyglass in its box, and then he and San are running to join the others.
They’re away free now. They’ve done it.
Hongjoong has dragged himself from the wreckage of the abandoned house, bandage tied haphazardly over his injured eye, body protesting as he limps up the empty road. He’s exhausted, sore, reeking of smoke, and half-blind, but he doesn’t let himself falter. His crew are waiting for him.
It’s nightfall by the time he reaches the edge of the desert, by the time he finally sees the twin headlights shining out of the darkness, and, as he gets closer, the figures of the others gathered around the car expectantly.
Seonghwa jumps down from where he’d been perched on the hood, scoops up the black bag beside him, and moves forward to meet Hongjoong. He comes to a halt just in front of him, and Hongjoong, with his last ounce of strength, looks up at his second-in-command and asks,
“Were you successful?”
Seonghwa raises his chin, and drops the black bag at Hongjoong’s feet. It lands with a heavy thud, and within it, Hongjoong catches sight of papers, a wooden compass box, and a leather spyglass case.
“We were.”
Hongjoong pulls his hand from his pocket, still grasping the key, and holds it out so the others can see it before he drops it into the bag along with the other treasures.
“Well done.”
Other Yeosang smiles.
“Let’s go then,” he says. “Your ship awaits.”