Chapter Text
SEQUEL: Chapter 1
Jeongin crept along the dark halls, shivering at every shadow that slipped by. The eerie hum of an industrial generator droned on shakily in the background, filling the dim halls with relentless white noise.
He held his hands out slightly, tensed and ready for anything. Sweat dripped down his face and his bones ached brutally but he continued down the corridor, looking around carefully for any signs of enemies.
Why had he chosen to do this?
Jeongin berated himself on the inside for his stupidity. He wouldn’t have been in this situation if he had just thought about what he was doing for a second.
His eyes locked on the maroon door at the end of the corridor. His target. He edged towards it again, knees bent and ready to spring away at any noise. Jeongin eyed the door once more and picked up his pace, looking over his shoulder at the shadowed hallways behind him. The whole place was a cruel maze, and Jeongin was convinced the torture of navigating it would never stop.
Suddenly, he stopped.
Something was off.
Jeongin realised with an icy jolt that everything was silent. The generators had stopped humming at some point. In the silence, he just managed to catch the sharp sound of metal clicking into place. That meant-
Jeongin whirled around just in time to catch a speeding bullet right in the stomach. The impact of the shot sent him stumbling back and he gasped in pain and surprise, pressing his hands to his vest on instinct. Crimson was splattered all over his chest and stomach, gleaming sickeningly in the dark. The fabric of his shirt was ruined by the substance, he noted faintly as he pressed a hand to the wall, leaving behind a smeared, red handprint. Jeongin felt his knees give out and he leaned heavily against the wall behind him, closing his eyes in exhaustion.
With a loud thrum, the generators turned back on and lights flooded the halls, illuminating the grey walls. Standing at the end of the hall, leaning against the blood red door, was none other than Minho, holding up a sleek, black gun in one hand.
“Hiya, Jeongin.”
Jeongin frowned and exhaled sharply, sitting down on the cold ground and leaning his head back to rest against the wall. “Hey, Minho.”
“This is the thirteenth time you’ve done this today, Innie.” Minho frowned, a bit sympathetic towards the sweaty and pale boy sitting in front of him. “Why not take a break?”
Jeongin glowered at his hyung and stood up on slightly shaky legs. He looked down at his shirt, which was slowly drying an ugly rusty red.
Minho winced at the mess. “Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t know why Hyunjin insisted on using red paint for the paintballs. It’s a bit too realistic for my taste.” Jeongin could practically feel the protective aura coming off the boy.
“It's okay, hyung. I’m fine, see?” Jeongin did a showy spin to convince him but a flash of pain coursing through his head and body had him pressing his hands to his temples instead.
“Yeah, very reassuring,” Minho said sarcastically, but still went over quickly to help him. He tossed the paintball gun to the side and stepped close to Jeongin. He slung Jeongin’s arm over his shoulders and snaked his other hand around Jeongin’s waist for support. “Let’s get you back to the apartment, huh?” Minho said and Jeongin, despite himself, leaned into his hyung’s side, letting himself be coddled by the older.
The two exited the training room and took the building elevator to the ground floor. The elevator doors opened with a chirpy ding, and the sight that met Jeongin didn’t fail to surprise him, even after seeing it multiple times.
The main lobby of the JYP News building, in all it’s mundane glory. Jeongin would be lying if he said he hadn’t been stunned when his hyungs revealed that the place that they worked at was also a secret headquarters for the Heroes. He was further gobsmacked when they proudly revealed that they weren’t the only Heroes that worked at JYP News and used it as a secret base. Jeongin had wheedled at them to tell him who else was a Hero for weeks, but Woojin and Chan had prevented them- particularly Felix and Jisung- from telling him. Something about a “Hero’s Code” or whatever, Jeongin wasn’t interested. He had even pulled out his aegyo in an attempt to get Hyunjin to tell him- which would have worked if Seungmin hadn’t interfered.
Jeongin turned to look at his hyung, catching the gentle light of the outside moon filtering in from the window, illuminating Minho’s face in an ethereal light. “You don’t have to supervise me always, you know?”
Minho snorted, keeping his eyes on the streets outside as they exited the building. “Hah, yeah I do. I’m never letting you get hurt again, Jeongin.”
He wound his arm around Jeongin’s waist a little tighter and pulled the smaller into his side. Jeongin felt his cheeks react to the sudden action and he looked down quickly, wanting to hide his flushed face from his hyung. Minho stopped walking abruptly and Jeongin breathed in sharply, shaking slightly in the cold air of the night. He had known he’d regret not wearing his coat to work this morning.
Evidently, that problem disappeared rather quickly.
Jeongin felt Minho’s arms leave him a second before his warmth did. He bit his freezing lips, immediately attacked by a cold gale. As soon as his body registered the sub-zero weather, Jeongin felt a sudden heat shoot through his fingers, travelling quickly up to his arms and down his chest. It had been like this for a while. Every time he was cold, his newfound power instantly reacted and sent waves of warmth running through him. It was like a reflex. It was weaker today, he noted faintly as he shivered when the heat slowly seeped out of him, leaving him freezing once more.
“Hyung?” Jeongin questioned as Minho started unbuttoning his coat, nimbly working it off. “What are you-”
Minho shushed him and placed the heavy, felt jacket over Jeongin’s shoulders, enveloping him in a blanket of warmth. Jeongin let out an involuntary sigh as he burrowed into the comforting fabric, the cold in his bones lethargically leaving him.
Minho chuckled slightly at the way the younger was engulfed in the grey fabric and took off his scarf from where it was wrapped around his neck. He carefully placed it around Jeongin’s neck, swathing him in it.
The dark blue scarf clung to him comfortably, bringing a rush of warmth to his cheeks. Jeongin looked away from Minho, but muttered a small “Thanks hyung,” as he did so. Minho just smiled and hooked an arm around Jeongin’s waist again, leading him back along the darkening streets.
Jeongin just leant into the warmth of Minho’s side as they walked, hoping that his hyung wasn’t cold in the freezing Winter night. He desperately wanted to do something for him in return for his kind gesture but didn’t know what he could do.
Feeling a little spark of courage and determination in his fingers, Jeongin concentrated on the feeling for a second, pausing mid-step. He saw Minho turn to look at him questioningly but he didn’t acknowledge it.
Instead, he watched as fickle, graceful flames curled around his fingertips, spreading down his hands with their beautiful, scintillating luster. Golden yellow, sunset orange, cherry red, the colours all danced together, performing their own special tango atop his fingertips. The heat radiating from his hands lit the street in a sunny glow, casting eerie shadows on the nearby walls.
All of a sudden, hands snapped around his wrists, squeezing them tightly. Jeongin’s eyes snapped away from where they were fixated on the flames he was creating and instead met the serious gaze of Minho. Minho’s form seemed to waver and flicker slightly before he disappeared from view completely. Jeongin looked down at his own feet and felt the familiar off-putting sense when his eyes met the ground beneath them and nothing else. Minho had made them invisible.
“Hyung?” Jeongin asked hesitantly in a whisper, wondering if Villains or any apparent danger had appeared.
Minho grabbed onto one of his hands, and Jeongin startled at the sudden movement. “Hyung wait!” Jeongin yelled out, not wanting Minho to be burned by the flames he created. When the elder didn’t cry out in pain, Jeongin realised with a jolt that at some moment in time, his flames had extinguished. He was sure his hands were still hot, though, and that Minho must have felt at least some discomfort at the heat.
“Jeongin,” Minho let out, tone serious. Jeongin glanced up at the sound of his voice and saw that Minho was visible again, and definitely not happy.
“You have to be more careful with your powers, Innie,” Minho said, taking Jeongin’s hands in his and squeezing them softly. “You might come across someone who’ll pick a fight with you because of them.” Jeongin groaned inwardly, berating himself for his stupidity. Of course, it was a dumb idea to use his newfound powers in the middle of a street- however dark and relatively empty it was. Minho seemed to note the way Jeongin’s downcast eyes and the way his posture seemed to shrink back. Minho gave him a smile and pulled him into a tight hug. “Aw, Jeongin, you’re not in trouble,” Minho reassured him and Jeongin held onto him firmly.
“Please, just be more careful, okay?” Jeongin nodded at the words and Minho gave him a grin. “Mostly because Chan would kill me if you got hurt, you know that right?”
Jeongin let out a little huff of laughter, which Minho seemed to take as a win. He spent the rest of the walk home making goofy jokes about the rest of their friends and how they were all absolutely whipped for Jeongin.
Jeongin couldn’t get the prior events out of his mind, though.
“Jeongin, we need to talk about your new powers.” Chan’s voice echoed through his mind and Jeongin instantly remembered the event that had occurred weeks before.
Jeongin developed powers. But not just any powers. He developed outlawed powers.
After a couple of tests, Jeongin and his hyungs had figured out his powers. Pyrokinesis. Jeongin, who had been insanely excited about getting powers at the age of 18- which was completely unheard of- was now not sure if he wanted to yell in elation or despair.
Pyrokinetics had been extinct among those blessed with powers for almost five decades. When a psychopath with the fire powers had set fire to a crowded building and killed hundreds, the government had ordered a death sentence to all pyrokinetics as a way to assure the safety of Seoul from the powered beings. Eventually, after analysing similar events that happened worldwide in countries like the USA and Britain, an order to kill all pyrokinetics worldwide was issued. Some argued that this wasn’t fair, that they were condemning innocent people to death for something they couldn’t control but in the end, nothing they said worked and pyrokinetics were erased from the world. Or so they thought, apparently.
Chan had asked Jeongin if any relatives or family of his were pyrokinetics or had a similar power, as most powers were hereditary and transferred directly through bloodlines, but Jeongin didn’t have a clue. The only person that could have held a power like pyrokinesis was his father, but Jeongin hadn’t seen him in years.
After what the man had done to him and his mother… Jeongin would be happy never to see his face again. The scars on his body were reminder enough of those dark chapters of his life.
Fortunately, according to his mother, there was no way that he could have gotten his fiery powers from his dad, as his mom confirmed that her ex-husband was power-less.
Luckily for Jeongin, the government wasn’t as severe as they had been fifty years ago, and no one was ordering for Jeongin’s death. (Even if they were to, Jeongin was pretty sure that Chan, Woojin, Minho, and the rest of his hyungs would never let them.) They were, however, keeping a close eye on Jeongin because of his powers.
So as far as he knew, he was the only Hero- or person in general- that had the ability to harness and manipulate fire. Which made him a target.
Or so his hyungs said.
Therefore, Jeongin had been prohibited from using his powers in public, or anywhere else for that matter. He didn’t think it was fair- finally getting powers and not being able to use them- but his hyungs assured him that if he worked hard and proved that he could handle himself, then their superiors said they would consider letting him go on missions.
So Jeongin had dedicated himself to training. He practically lived in the training compounds. He would, probably, if Chan and Minho didn’t drag him away from the building and back home every night.
Speaking of home, Jeongin hadn’t even realised that they had made it back to the apartment. Minho nudged him and he looked up to see that he was standing in front of a small set of steps leading up to a familiar door.
Minho fished a keychain out of his bag and inserted one of the keys into the lock on the door. A dim, barely noticeable green light emitted from a small crack under the door handle, scanning their figures quickly. With a small click, the door opened to reveal a simple apartment room. Potted plants, a patterned rug, a neatly made bed, it all seemed too mundane for a Hero’s accommodation. The truth, apparently, was that it was.
Minho walked up to a large mirror that was attached to the wall. He felt along the side of it and pressed a small button. He inputted a 9-digit code (which Jeongin still had to remember) and with a small creak, the mirror swung forward, revealing a well-lit staircase. The sight never failed to excite Jeongin, sending an incredulous, giddy feeling rushing through him. It was just like all of the spy and secret agent movies that Jeongin had watched with his friends in middle school. Jeongin led the way up as Minho closed the mirror-door behind them.
Jeongin reached the top of the staircase and reached for the handle of a dark oak-wood door in front of him. He opened the door carefully, swinging it open.
What greeted him was probably the most breathtaking room he’d ever seen. The room was lit grandly by a delicate chandelier hanging from the high ceiling above him. Rainbows flitted across the walls as the crystals on the chandelier caught the light of the other lights twinkling on the ceiling like miniature diamonds.
Under the winsome light fixtures sat a white sofa, adjourned with colourful pillows and a stray plushie or two. The softest looking carpet was laid under the piece of furniture, fluffy and inviting. The living room of sorts was separated from the kitchen by a row of modern-looking counters, all of which had some sort of baked good or food item cooling on them. The food all seemed to be cold, however, so Jeongin wondered why they hadn’t been put away. He wasn’t complaining, however. The numerous items of food were, no doubt, the sources of the tantalizing smells wafting through the open space. A small, homemade-looking sign was hanging on one of the walls of the kitchen, labelled simply with “Chan’s Kitchen”. The whole sight brought a genial feeling to him, eliminating all chances of being home-sick.
Past the kitchen was a large table, with 9 chairs set around it accordingly. Each chair had a small, different coloured piece of paper taped to the back of it. Jeongin could just barely make out the name “Jisung” written out in big, block letters on a bright yellow square. Three figures sat at the table, two of them conversing amicably while the third one rested their head on the table, seemingly asleep.
Jeongin turned back to see Minho coming up the stairs behind him and stepped into the room ahead of him. He quickly took off his shoes and laid them by the door alongside the other pairs that were assembled there.
He set off towards the dining room, now catching sight of Chan and Woojin sitting at the table. Woojin saw him first and stood up, going over to make sure younger was okay. With a quick hug and a scan from the elder, he was reassured enough to let Jeongin past him. Jeongin’s eyes were drawn to a mass of white rolls on the table- bandages- and several bottles of antiseptic solution and cotton balls. Some of them, disturbingly, were dyed dark red. Jeongin looked up from the worrying sight and instantly locked on the figure of a third person slumped on the table, drooling as they slept soundly with their head nested atop their crossed arms. Jeongin noticed the little freckles dotting the boy’s nose and cheeks and smiled as he took in Felix’s sleeping form. The Australian was too cute when he slept.
Jeongin caught a flash of white as the sleeping boy shifted and leaned in closer to see what it was. Layers of white bandages peeked out from under Felix’s shirt from where they were wrapped securely around his chest and shoulder. The reason for the presence of the bandages sitting nearby on the tabletop suddenly made sense.
Jeongin’s eyes widened at the appearance of the injury and immediately looked up to scan Woojin for any signs of wounds. Luckily, his eldest hyung seemed relatively untouched. Chan, however, was quite the opposite.
The leader was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his bare chest. Jeongin saw the lump of fabric that could have been his shirt, now discarded atop the table alongside the antiseptic bottles. Several cuts marred the pale skin of his arms and a particularly nasty slash was cut directly across his cheek, going from one corner of his eye to the center of his cheek. Dried, darkened blood was smudged across his face, but the cut had stopped bleeding a while ago, it seemed.
What stood out the most to Jeongin, however, were the horrifying, scabbing marks on Chan’s chest.
In bloody, vicious cuts slashed deep in his skin was a character that struck a chord of deep terror in his heart, turning all the blood in his veins to ice.
Carved onto Chan’s chest was a single, deformed letter.
“M”
…
END OF CHAPTER 1