j a c k p o t

OPEN TO ANY AGENT, MULTIPLE!

hiatus from missions mean being stuck back at base. and while it may not necessarily be a bad thing, after all it’s ensuring her safety and recovery, jinhee was also a soul who would be struck by boredom if she stayed in the same environment for more than just five minutes. and would go to say is also a soul that would rather be injured than idle.

in reality, she does have paperwork to do… but let’s just say it doesn’t exist as long as she’s not looking at it. thus, she is everywhere it is not, opting to socialise (see: annoy) with her busy coworkers and witness the myriad of responsibilities they go through each day.

the person (hani) behind the controls (her keyboard) eyed the screen through narrow slits, purely concentrated on nothing else beating her previous high score. 

still somehow despite the background noises coming from her game, the techie still managed to catch the muted sounds of footsteps headed her direction. in one fluid drag of her mouse, she minimized the tab and swiveled around her desk chair, facing the newcomer with the most innocent expression she was capable of (which didn’t account for much, now that she thought about it). 

once she saw (or heard, whichever came first) who this person was, her act dropped completely, composure immediately falling into something more relaxed and familiar. an easy smile formed on her lips as she raised up a hand to greet her old friend. 

It certainly isn’t because of the charming area he’s living in. This part of Seoul is probably the shadiest of the capital, and the neighborhood is everything but friendly and nice. It is, without a doubt, not one you want to be a part of or be in when it gets too dark. There are no rich kids or flashy cars here, replaced by amateur drug dealers and girls too young to be selling their charms.

The most awful action you can imagine, Howon has probably seen it in the eight years he has lived here. Eight years, already. Eight years since he has left Busan with the little money he had made dancing in the streets and helping at convenience store near his old home. That is probably why he isn’t moving out - the force of habit. This dumpster might be disgusting, but it is the only place he has ever known in Seoul and he has grown used to the one bedroom flat, with its dirty kitchen and too small bathroom.

A shower sounds nice, he thinks, removing his black wifebeater and throwing it on the ground. If he can’t sleep, he might as well get ready to seize the day. Howon gets up, moving towards the bathroom. He’s about to remove his sweatpants when a noise catches his attention. The wooden floor in the hallway is old, and while it doesn’t make much noise, everyone living here knows where to step to avoid making a commotion.

The person who is now walking obviously doesn’t. Call him crazy but Howon has a bad feeling about this. No one who shouldn’t be there ever visits this place. No one.

He quickly backtracks his steps and grabs his trusted Beretta M9 from under his pillow, unlocking the safety quickly. There’s no time to lose and he hurriedly walks towards his front door, just as the door opens. He knew it. Coincidences don’t exist.  Howon doesn’t lose time, and lets the intruder step inside before shutting the door close and pinning whoever has decided to pay him a visit against it. His gun is pointed at her head, as there’s no doubt it’s a woman under him. The curves he feels pressed against his body can’t lie.

it had been the fucking hallway. of course it had been. there was a reason hani was a handler and not a recon agent. her sense of stealth was laughable. but even so, she hadn’t expected the person she would be facing to be so... well trained. hani eyed him with interest. 

“now that’s not very nice, is it?” she replied unperturbed. as if it was that the man had simply forgotten his manners, and not that he had her pinned tight against the wall. “is this how you greet all of your house guests? how rude.” continuing to keep steady eye contact, her left hand crept behind the small of her back, silently outlining the spot where her gun was hidden. “but then again, if you greet them all like that,” she nudged her head his direction, raising her eyebrows pointedly at his bare torso. the corners of her mouth curved suggestively. “i can tell why they would stay.”

“however i on the other hand--” in one fluid motion hani had pulled out her own gun, squeezing past various body parts to press its barrel unflinchingly to his chest. if the stranger was as smart as he looked, he would have the sense to step away. “--cannot.” 

jonghyun’s gears shifted from his initial modus operandi to another; since fate had it this way, were two mutual, supposedly acquaintances yet coworkers collided to do one job– this was the part he both liked and dreaded with his constant need for control. he knew for a fact most agents took their job seriously. the older male however didn’t express being pleasantly surprised over his foundlings (despite as ever, hoping for the worst). he met her eyes straightforwardly, a small, lopsided smile curving his mouth upwards.

“Five. it’s not that hard.” he stated as a matter of fact, adjusting the collar of his neck slightly (always feeling clothing of the sort constructive, short of bothersome, rather impractical even). “shouldn’t you know?” he raised a single eyebrow, humoring her. he should have known better than to introduce himself, although it was more out of courtesy, both internalized habit and also akin to his inherent ways. 

But her attitude wasn’t entirely unexpected nonetheless, she did have a strange air around her that one time before; people that looked at others the way she did weren’t passive, let alone truly demure in the slightest.

“and likewise.” he similarly buttoned up his jacket, and started. “i’ll be infiltrating the casino, posing as one of the rich business men there, you’ll be directing me to our target; whatever data necessary, method or course of intel extraction employed, you’ll inform or equip me.” he tucked out the letter he’d been given, showed it to her.“seems simple enough.”

hani grinned something sharp. “touché.” jonghyun was clever, she’d give him that. hani had a tendency to like those who could keep up. regarding him with a hint of something like approval, she had a feeling that they’d get along just fine. 

“right,” her eyes finished skimming over his letter, quickly finding it similar to what she had also been given. “i’ll be communicating to you through this thing,” she tapped the small device in her ear. “so make sure to have it on you always. otherwise i’ll have to resort to signal flares like that one time and i’d rather not repeat that, thanks. my hair reeked of sulfur for an entire week.” her facial features contorted the barest bit at the memory. in the end, not once did the agent she saved show gratitude for her quick thinking. nevermind the fact that she nearly went bald to save his sorry ass from being buried alive. the nerve of some people. 

@spxhani​

Jonghyun fumbled with the tie around his shoulders as he stepped onto the pavement of the road; sleek, simple black tuxedo framing his body up until the black shirt he wore underneath, and the clearly impossible to arrange garment that laid on the sides of his neck. lithe fingers pressed the door behind him close, having paid the driver beforehand; he stood with his hands inside the pockets of his pants, in front of the van where his handler awaited.

He’d met her before, and if his memory didn’t fail him; slanted, brown eyes brimmed by long lashes, dark hair with green strands. Her gaze attentive of every seemingly inscrutable detail that somehow, he suspected she could unravel in a heartbeat; her outward appearance depicted the very definition of unrest, trouble, as he resolved with subjective scrutiny the first time his eyes fell on her from the other end of a room  — unfair as the evaluation was, biased by his prejudice by nature. —  he became aware of his impression once the thought developed.

in his predicament, he figured, notwithstanding of the circumstances, ultimately she’d be the one to prove him wrong or right. He wasn’t one to walk with a blind fold to harm, let alone his hands tied. He liked to know what was before him, and if he counted what mattered in the end; it wasn’t her outlooks or personality that was essential, but her ability to come through and achieve the goal regardless of the setbacks. 

He was about to find out, anyways.

how they dressed. the way they spoke. the habits they expressed. all small details that made up one big picture-- usually not very pretty ( the truth never was ) --but interesting enough; unique. that’s why when hani had locked eyes with the agent, now her charge, a few months back in the hall of a social gathering she’d already forgotten the name of, hani hadn’t gone much further. she had already taken note of what she needed to know, anyways. 

in present day, a half smile curved the edges of her mouth as she stepped into his space, their toes almost touching. 

“how old are you again? twenty five?” she tilted her head, lips parted slightly to examine his features. “twenty six? shouldn’t you be tying your own ties by now?“ her tone was light, teasing, as her fingers began to work through the fabric, looping and pulling with practiced ease. when it was finished, she promptly stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Maybe, it is for the best, though, not having his identity disclosed. Jaesung has better things than to deal with phantoms from the past.

Howon drops his phone back on his mattress, before laying down on his bed and closing his eyes. Now that that’s done, he can finally relax and stop thinking about it.

she narrowed her eyes in concentration, clinking tabs closed and opening new ones as quickly as her mouse permitted. she would pause every so often, either to quickly type in a convoluted string of numbers or to reach for the bag of chips on her lap. five minutes and forty two seconds later, she finally had a name. 

_ john lee 

she scoffed. if the stranger was willing to go through that much trouble just to protect their own cell phone number, she’d bet everything that this wasn’t their real name. whatever. she had the coordinates of their most recent activity, and that was good enough. 

hani rose to a standing position, one hand dusting off the crumbs on her sweatpants and the other reaching for her colt o1091. if she was going to confront this john lee, then she was sure as fuck going to be prepared. 

two bus rides and a long taxi later, she was at their doorstep. with the sounds of everyday traffic behind her, and the neighborhood as bright and inconspicuous as it could get, hani felt... overdressed. what if she’d acted without thinking again? what if the message really was nothing? for all she knew this could be the work of your average internet troll.