Chapter Text
What a great day to meet some DayDream bastards—and right outside HQ, too.
Nevermind that the rain falls in a cold, heavy drizzle. It's not Choi won't get to meet such important again. Lucky him. At least the smoke break was nice until it lasted. He stubs out the cigarette against the side of the bin.
Director Cheong Dallae is a very hard person to meet—as rumors go, not even her own employee outside of R&D see her often. Her black wool coat doesn't have a single drop on it, courtesy of the man next to her. An unknown face, and Choi memorized a good 80% of DayDream Inc. Field Ops active rooster. The man's hold over the umbrella guarantees the rain doesn't touch a hair on her head, much less her fancy designer clothes.
It's a surprise that a cutthroat company suck-up wouldn't lay his own coat on the wet, sleek asphalt to keep her heels clean, if it gets him a good impression.
They walk toward a black company car parked at the curb.
Well. It'd be a pity if a chance to get a feeling for Director slips away.
And if there's one thing Choi's good at, it's provocation. Good, olde by-the-textbook Jaekwan will make sad faces at him, but—well. It's as they say. Better ask for forgiveness than permission.
Choi steps into their path. Rain soaks in his hair and runs down the back of his collar. "If it isn't Director Cheong. What an honor."
Director Cheong stops. The man at her side adjusts his grip on the umbrella so that the abrupt motion doesn't get raindrops on her—isn’t that sweet, for him to worry about it. The other hand rests at his side, slack. His black eyes move to Choi's, then lower to the scar on his neck.
Rude. That's his best feature. No need for staring.
"Agent." Her smile is polite, practiced, and doesn't hide her disinterest. "I've just finished with your superiors."
"Oh, it won't take long. No worries." Choi doesn't move from their path. Water runs down his face. "I've just always wanted to meet you. Though can't say I'm a fan."
Director Cheong laughs. Her hand reaches without a glance and fingers wrap around the man's, shifts his hold an inch to the left. "Be careful."
"My apologies, Director." His voice is even, empty.
"I despise the rain." Her touch trails along his knuckles, then falls away. "You were saying, Agent?"
Rain runs into Choi's eyes—makes it hard not to blink. "Heard you covered up the civilian casualties."
Again.
"What an odd accusation. And unfortunately for you, words need evidence to become anything more than noise." The Director takes a small step forward. The man moves with her, seamless—and wouldn't it be nice if there was just as much worry for civilians’ lives. "And you have none, or we'd be having this conversation somewhere else."
Too bad that's right. If it wasn't, it would be much easier to get Cheong Dallae marked for person of interest in an active investigation.
"You know—" Choi shifts his weight. His feet find purchase on the wet pavement. "This guy. I haven't seen him around before."
"Well. I suppose it was a recent hire." Director Cheong reaches up and brushes raindrops from the man's shoulder—rain that splashed from the umbrella's edge. Her hand rests there. "But he is a very promising acquisition."
"Pretty young, yeah?"
The Director offers a thin smile. "I guarantee that he is very talented. And understands his role well. Don't you?"
His eyes keep forward, past Choi, toward the car. Like the words were about someone else. "Yes, Director."
"Hey. You know what this company does." Choi lets his mouth stretch into a smile, without any joy in it. Of course he does. No one who can reach a high position at DayDream doesn't.
"Yes." No hesitation.
"Then you might wanna quit while you're ahead, you know."
"I'm aware of the risks involved."
"Lots of people get affected by your operations. That doesn't bother you?" Choi watches his face. A crack in that poker face'd be enough.
The man looks at him through lowered lashes. "It is not my place to have opinions on company policy. But I sympathize with your position."
Nothing. The answer is professional, detached, and wrong. It makes something cold settle in Choi's chest. Well—that's not useful at all, but it's on brand for a DayDream bastard.
Director Cheong reaches up and pushes a strand of wet hair back from the man’s forehead. Her fingers linger at his temple. "My assistant is a sweet boy. But he always does what he's told. Don't you?"
"Yes, Director."
Executive Assistant, then—Choi knows who that is. Though it's the first time a face comes with the name. Kim Soleum. Fastest promotion to Supervisor within Field Ops—two months. A guy who solved an A-grade Darkness after a couple of days on the job and then disappeared for close to a year, just to come back to a fast-track promotion. Some say the most likely candidate for Chief of Staff. Who knows how legit that prediction is.
Still. It does pay to keep up with DayDream's rumor mill. For example—
"You're not human, are you." Choi says to Director Cheong. That's one of the juicy piece of info one can piece together through company's grapevine.
"You keep making up weird accusations." Dallae tilts her head. Rain drums against the umbrella above them. "I assume you plan to back this one up with something concrete, at least?"
"Sure. Bet I can find something." Choi wraps his fingers around the jakdu's hilt.
"How tedious." Director Cheong glances up at Soleum. Her expression shifts into boredom—done with the conversation, and isn't that something, that those psychos can afford to be like that. It breaks Choi's fragile heart, really. Her hand trails along Soleum's wrist, fingertips against the pulse point. "Handle this nuisance for me."
It's not a request. Soleum hands her the umbrella without a word. His coat slides off his shoulders and pools to the ground. Within seconds, the rain drenches his shirt and hair. But he doesn't flinch, doesn't even shiver, just steps forward. The glare from the streetlights hits the watch on his wrist. Titanium face, leather band, fancy—but the face is blank. Equipment, then.
Director Cheong rests the umbrella against her shoulder.
"I must ask you to step aside." Kim Soleum's face holds no expression.
Choi doesn't move. "Or what?"
He's young—too young for the deadened, faraway look in his eyes—and that hits even harder, when wet hair plasters against his forehead and raindrops gather on his eyelashes. Any other situaton, and Choi'd have found him pitiful. Instead, Soleum's foot drags forward in a clear threat.
Oh well. Choi's got enough of those, more than he can count, really. No biggie. "Or you'll kill me? That's some escalation, even for a DayDream bastard."
"Please. It would pain me greatly to do that. Agent Choi."
Choi frowns. "You know me?"
The politeness makes it worse. It changes nothing, because there's only dispassionate assessment behind those eyes—and willingness to kill. Choi can tell. This is someone who has killed before, or will do it if required. His own foot steps forward. His whole body tenses. There's not much information on him—how fast his reaction will be, his fight experience.
Choi moves—past him, in Director Cheong's direction.
Kim Soleum is on him. His shoulder slams into Choi's and and sends into the ground. The impact tears the jakdu out of his hand. The blade skitters on wet concrete and stops several meters away.
A kick catches Choi in the stomach. His teeth clench together against the pain. His form isn’t that practiced. Enough to be sure that Soleum's not a combat specialist. It still hurts like a bitch. Choi twists to soften the landing and rolls away. Away from his weapon. Shit.
"My apologies. But I cannot let you use that." Soleum sidesteps, and water splashes under his feet.
Choi presses forward, throws a jab. It’s blocked.
A palm strikes at Choi's solar plexus. Fast. But not enough. Choi catches the wrist in time and pulls him off balance. For a moment they grapple, close enough that Choi can see water dripping from his eyelashes. Soleum pivots. His leg hooks Choi's leg. They both stumble.
Choi recovers first, drives a knee up. It hits Kim Soleum’s thigh instead of his stomach. The impact should slow him down—Choi felt it hit—but there’s not even a flinch. Instead, Soleum traps Choi's arm in a lock. His foot sweeps his ankle.
Choi hits the wet pavement.
The concrete is cold and soaked through—makes it hard to get a grip. Choi tries to break free. It doesn’t work. Soleum’s knee presses into his back. Sparks burst behind his eyelid as pain hits. Soleum's hand pulls Choi's wrist at an angle that threatens to dislocate the shoulder if Choi pushes back.
"I assumed you wouldn't be around, by now." His voice is quiet, surrounded by the sound of rain. Rainfall pounds both of them so hard it stings. "I'm glad to see I was mistaken. I suppose the Looky Mart acquisition..."
"What—" All DayDream’s employees are insane.
Choi tests the hold. The pressure is wrong—too much strength for that frame. But nothing can work aside a reversal anyway—his weight drops, Choi twists his hips. One hand slips free, slams back into the Soleum’s ribs, hard enough that his breath hitches. Finally. The grip loosens. Choi rolls and breaks free.
They both scramble to their feet, breathing hard.
Kim Soleum steps back. It brings Choi’s weapon within his reach—and a kick sends it under a car parked meters away.
"You know what it does."
How? That’s not public knowledge, Choi’s sure of it. And Kim Soleum's isn't even breathing as hard as he should be. Choi's been in enough fights to recognize exhaustion, and this isn't it. His chest rises and falls like this was a gym rather than a fight on wet concrete. It should hit way harder.
They circle each other. His right side—where Choi hit him—is guarded, but not as much as it should be. Choi feints left, goes right, drives a punch into those ribs again. Kim Soleum's block is a half-second slow. Choi feels the impact jar his the bones of his hand.
Soleum doesn't back off. He steps into Choi's space instead, and Choi's world tilts. A shoulder throw slams him into the pavement again. This time Soleum follows him down.
Choi bucks, tries to throw him off. Even the weight is heavier than his build suggests—that's bad news. Choi goes for a pressure point under the jaw—Soleum jerks his head back, but doesn't block. His left he delivers a short, brutal punch to his solar plexus. All air leaves Choi's lungs.
"Stop. Don't make this worse than it needs to be."
Another punch. This one to his ribs. Then another to the same spot. And another. An elbow into Choi's shoulder, the same one locked earlier. Pain flares, white-hot. His whole arm goes numb.
It drags a laugh out through the pain, breathless. Damn, the guy’s good.
Soleum pulls Choi up by his collar with one hand. It lifts his whole body off his feet, and the fabric cuts into his throat, makes him hiss. A knee slams into his stomach. Choi doubles over. Soleum's hand is on the back of his neck now, like Choi weighs nothing, and another knee crushes his insides. Then another.
Choi tries to grapple, to get any kind of grip. Soleum's foot sweeps Choi's legs again. This time when his body hits the ground, Soleum doesn't follow, steps back.
Choi gets to his hands and knees. Rain pounds down on his back. Blood mixes with water on the concrete—his lip is split, his nose might be broken.
Soleum waits. "Stay down, and it will be over."
Fat chance of that. Choi gets one foot under him. A kick to Choi's supporting leg drops him back down. Before any reaction, a hand has him face-down on the wet pavement, arm twisted behind his back again in a lock that makes Choi's vision white out for a second.
"Please." Soleum's voice is still quiet, quieter than the rain around them, drumming against the pavement. Too close. His breath brushes against Choi's ear, hot in the freezing air. "Isn't this enough?"
Choi struggles. The pressure on his arm increases—the bone cracks. White-hot pain explodes through Choi's shoulder and down his arm. His other hand presses Choi's face against the concrete, a pool of water around his cheek. Choi tastes asphalt and rainwater.
The strength holding him down is not human.
"Fuck off." Choi spits blood.
"Remember that I asked you to stop. Multiple times."
Kim Soleum shifts. Then releases the arm lock, steps back, kicks him in the shoulder. Onto his back. A foot slams down on Choi's chest. It drags a wet, ragged groan out of him as the air is flat-out crushed from his lungs. Soleum stands over him—deep sorrow in his black eyes. It comes down a second time. A third.
Black creeps at the edge of Choi's vision.
"The Director's words were to handle you." Water drips from Soleum's hair onto Choi's face. His shoe is centered over his sternum. "Not to kill you. I think it would be best, if you'd allow me to keep to the letter of the instructions. There's no point to this."
Choi tries to grab the ankle. His balance doesn't waver.
For just a moment, rain backlit by streetlights, Choi sees his eyes. Something about them is wrong. Not the color, not the shape, but something in the way they reflect light. Red. Like looking at faraway lanterns in the dark—a shine that shouldn't be there. Then Kim Soleum blinks, and it's gone. Just a trick of the light. Or not.
Executives and upper professionals of DayDream Inc. have the habit of turning out to be Supernatural Disasters. That's part of the reason Choi started this, after all.
Director Cheong steps closer. Her eyes flicker down at Choi, then up at Soleum. Her expression is pleased.
"That's enough. We'll leave it here for today. Killing an agent would be just a headache"
Soleum's foot lifts from his chest. Choi sucks in a breath. Then another.
Kim Soleum steps away, turns to Director Cheong. Rain continues to pour down on him, soaks through his already-drenched clothes. It runs down his face, drips from his hair. Director Cheong touches his jaw with her free hand, turns his face toward her. Kim Soleum goes very still. His eyes flutter closed. Her thumb brushes across his cheekbone. It wipes away rain and a small splash of blood—Choi's, not his.
"Not a mark on you. Well done."
"Thank you, Director."
"You're breathing hard, though. He gave you some trouble."
"He's very skilled."
It's a lie. His breathing is even. Choi can see his chest from here—the unhurried rise and fall, so steady after a fight in the rain.
"Not enough, it seems."
"Dispatch and Rescue agents are the best personnel that the Bureau can offer. They're admirable people."
It sinks in, then—it’s not mockery in his voice. The slow, careful way Kim Soleum uses to stress the words is how he shows earnestness. It leaves a hollow feeling in Choi's chest.
"They are useful for clean-up, if nothing else." Director Cheong’s laughter rings too loud in the empty street. "You do like the Bureau, don't you? Don't think I didn't notice you being soft."
Kim Soleum doesn't speak.
She glances down at Choi. Every single breath hurts. "You should go inside, Agent. Have medical look at those ribs. File your report. It won't go anywhere, but I'm sure it will make you feel better."
Director Cheong hands the umbrella back to Soleum.
Soleum tilts the umbrella over her and opens the rear door for her. Director Cheong pauses and turns back to him. Her hand reaches up. Her palm rests flat against the fabric. "You're soaked."
"It'll dry off."
"Call ahead. Have some dry clothes prepared."
Kim Soleum closes her door and walks around to the driver's seat. Water drips from his clothes and pools around his shoes.
There's no hurry in his steps.
The car's door shuts a second time. The engine starts.
Choi pushes himself on his elbow—or tries to.
Later, medical patches him up. His ribs are definitely broken. So is his arm. His shoulder throbs. His face is swelling. Every breath hurts. Worst of all, Jaekwan really hasn't been happy with him.
Choi thinks about Kim Soleum's face—it would pain me greatly to do that. If he'd wanted to kill Choi, Choi would be dead.
Choi files his report from the hospital bed. The Supernatural Disaster classification request is denied within two hours—his superiors are satisfied with Director Cheong's explanations and extremely concerned about Agent Choi's judgment and conduct.
That's not a surprise. Choi's used to it.
Disciplinary action to be discussed within the week.
Of course it will.