BLEEDING TONGUE

showing up so late and not even with an iced coffee.. i'm aqua (he/they, 21+) and i'm (finally) here to introduce ahn sangwon, lead detective at the enforcer division, who is definitely doing some work.. even if most of it is entirely in his own favor. whether you meet him as detective or under some random name in the darker sides of the city.. it's probably better to stay on his good side. im also over with yeona but if you want my disc then let me know and we can talk about either of them (or both) there or from here in ims! profile and plots incoming on pages but for now.. there is info under the read more!

hello hello, i'm now introducing sangwon, your local turned vampire who unlocked some sort of old magic in his blood through the process and is most definitely using it for evil.. conveniently, he's also the one who's (supposed) to be keeping you safe on the town council. lets just say, if you ever hear any singing in the woods, or the eerie, familiar tone of your own voice calling out to you, go home. council member ahn did say to not stay out after dark..

it's enough that his division is under fire for the way this investigation is going. scrolling through social media wasn't doing much to help him, and ever since he had gotten home from the office, he thinks about that cup of coffee he'd had a few hours ago, the water he'd poured into the machine from the tap. the water advisory had gone into effect not too much later, and he'd stared hard at the papers on his desk before he left to go home early.

it feels skewered, anyways, by the little candy he'd let slip past his lips that morning to deal with whatever awaited him at his desk, and with the continuous reminder of failure trailing after each investigation recording he combs through, he demands complete silence until whatever this is rolls over, when everything isn't so hot and irritating and scratching at his throat, enough for him to send his phone careening into the pillows when he hears a knock at the door.

great. just great. usually he would have let it just go quiet, but there's something getting him up on his feet, feels too frayed to pretend that he just isn't here. his tie is loosened and his sleeves are pushed up, and even that hadn't been enough to settle this rising feeling in his chest, as much as he read about just how the water was affecting the people that came into contact with it. wonders if there's a bigger question here and it had been happening right underneath his nose.

he yanks the door open and finds jaehyun there. he'd noticed, on the way home, the lines out of the grocery store, and knows himself that he probably doesn't have much in lieu of drinking water, but didn't have the strength to fight through lines and people treating it with the panic they're seeming to.

but jaehyun, cloaked in the dimming lights of the hallway, sparks memories of waiting out that vicious storm throwing rain and lightning down the windows fitted at the end of the hallways of the mariposa, has sangwon leaning against the frame of the door and sighing. it reminded him of another type of silence that he tends to seek out when his mind's too busy, usually within the veil of a different location, the music's bass half blocking out the thoughts for him.

"i'm afraid i don't have much either, but i can spare a few bottles. i think i bought a couple packs a few months back just because i don't go grocery shopping often, but hopefully it'll be enough to get through the advisory." maybe the tiredness is an echo on his face, the sunken bruises beneath his eyes, flash of the watch on his wrist ticking away the time as he holds the door open.

you awaken with an inexplicable dread weighing in your stomach. you worry that something is wrong; you need to hear their voice to be sure. who are you thinking of?

it would be a lie, to say he doesn't worry. doesn't overthink, doesn't have so much emotion he wishes he could store it away somewhere but instead it spills out of his heart in all of the wrong ways, never known how to make it right, but he is sure of this--- when he closes his eyes, he pictures theirs staring right back into his own. it's that gaze, that first offer of his hand, a ritual, a prayer, he thinks, now, memories flashing, that lighting up a smoke and kicking back a drink and letting a candy settle on his tongue, sugary sweet, that nothing is as sweet as him, nothing like that voice and that gaze and that smile when he puts it on him.

he thinks of that night, and all of the lights. every night since, when thinking of him is a constant memory that doesn't blur, not like the rest of it, and he doesn't even want it to. he hasn't been this interested in something ever since his parents left and he decided to take matters into his own hands, and what really makes the difference is the obsession shifting, twisting into something like this. when's the last night he turned the news on?

he opens his phone and pulls up his call history. there's one recorded there from just a few hours ago, where sangwon laid here and heard his voice resound against his ear, closed his eyes and tried to tell himself it was real enough, it was enough.

it wasn't.

his thumb hovers over his name printed plainly over the screen, thinks of that dream, where his eyes became something that sangwon couldn't reach anymore, and he doesn't know how to deal with that. not like that, only wants him like another tape to replay over again just so he can see it, doesn't want anything finite. wants it all recorded down, something he can touch. something he can rely on.

he lets the call go through. he hopes minseo's still awake to answer.

what makes you human? are you, at all?

what makes anyone human? what's more human than blood on hands and throat sore and raw from screaming--- singing, singing, you were singing as the clock struck midnight, and don't you think everyone's sick of hearing that fucking song?

no, he'll tell you this, he'll tell you a new one, one he can write with his own ink, that what makes anyone human is the fact that they got here in the first place. flesh and blood doesn't even matter anymore, and even with his heart beating the way it does in his chest, it doesn't make it hurt any less. it doesn't make it hurt any less, when they leave him down here to rot, and he keeps telling himself, that's what makes him human, isn't it? that he can rot?

machinery turned rusted copper and yet the city still replaces it, here, take some plastic, take some of this newly discovered material of crystal and chemicals, let's make it new and shiny and maybe they won't see all of the shit underneath. yeah, if sangwon was human, would he still be human even with the mask? what if he replaced everything that was human into scrap metal and wires, what about then? he doesn't think getting rid of those human parts, those soft, vulnerable parts that make him easy to target, would fare any better under chrome. his heart's still haunted, still rotting, he can't rip that away. can't rid himself of any of those memories that weigh him down, isn't that what's human, after all?

that he can obsess and sing and see the smoke trail past his lips, that he can reach out and touch with his fingertips and taste this candy on his tongue, is it his senses, that connect him to this world? it sure as shit isn't his parents, who stare at him with unblinking eyes, he could say anything, anything, would they ever look at him any different?

no, good wasn't good enough, he knows that now. he knows that, and for as human as he is, as human as he thought he couldn't be, around them--- there's only so much training and puppetry before you become an echo of a machine, and was sangwon even any better as that? yeah, it sure as shit might be better if it didn't hurt so fucking much anymore.

if he could replace it all, maybe he would. but he discovered something a little different about this world, when you boil it down to the blood and the bones and the teeth and the nails, reaching to open that yawning maw of a city to see all of the dirt and the rot under those glistening towers. there's still blood caked underneath his fingernails when he does it. who's looking at who in the mirror, now?

he's human. he wants and he aches and he rages and he rots. this world's human, and he sees so much human every day. maybe it's in that love, it's in that dirty, rotten hope that keeps people crawling on their knees for something better, he has to give it to them, they deserve it, don't they? don't they all deserve something a little better?

don't worry, he'll keep singing. maybe that's what makes him human still, anyways. he can still take in a breath and sing.

he opens his eyes to darkness. feels around for something as he blinks awake and realizes a few things. the damp, empty room, devoid of furnishings aside from the lightbulb that precariously sways over them, gray washed concrete and silence, electricity like a hazy spotlight. there's the intake of breath through his lips as he hopes his mask is still there, still can feel it, pressing hard metal against his jaw, but there's more, too. there's before.

there are no careful hands, here. even with his gloves on, it's only with him thinking that there's only a few more blocks until he can finally take them off and feel what he wants to feel, tries to always tell himself it's enough, it's enough, when they're out and all he can feel is the leather on his hands, a barrier to keep him safe, usually, but with minseo it feels like something else. like something devoid.

usually he would've seen it coming. yes, he would've, because he would've heard the footsteps, right? and usually he's on top of it, and usually, he would be even more so, for minseo, but there's a flash, a flash, and he can't see. just a moment ago, it was minseo, hands hooked around his arm, a shitty little street that sangwon couldn't give a shit about other than it was taking them back. did they tap into his tech in his eyes?

the world is bright, like white light, like pinpricks of stars. there's brief panic, because he can't see, but it reminds him--- it reminds him, as much as he loathes the night sky for what it contains, he'll always see those stars and think of the projections in minseo's apartment, that reflection in his gaze. there is no other way of seeing them now. the light blooms, leaking like tears in his eyes, molten silver. just a moment ago, he was recording that shine of a street lamp, a memory---

so he didn't see it coming. failure burns hot through him, as he feels his limbs move alien, creaky, like a puppet wrong, wrong, doesn't feel minseo anymore against him, and for a moment, before that blackness that overtook his vision, his senses, it's his hand reaching out for minseo. straining, reaching out because if he could just get to him, if he could just make sure he was safe---

there's a few things to consider about this. it's possible, that sangwon, that blade, could have a few people trailing after him looking for something, it's not the first or the last time he's pissed someone off, or made them jealous, or challenged whatever they thought to be true about this shitty fucking city, but it's different when it's sangwon on the other side, crawling out from that picture of retribution that they're looking for and failing to find.

it's possible that minseo could have someone after him, too. the fact that they haven't yanked off his mask or his gloves have him at pause, though, because why the fuck else would they take blade if they didn't want to know something about him, even as much as he spreads the rumors about what happens to people who take off his mask in the hopes that no one would try it.

he's reminded of that night, when someone tried it. those pretty eyes, that gaze, the hands wrapped around his arm, all of those shifting lights and that stairway down into the rabbit hole, the one that sangwon has sunk into ever since he met him, those pretty, pretty eyes.

his hands are tied, as he blinks through that darkness and sees minseo situated right in front of him for sangwon to look, has to blink a few times like his eyes have had to restart, minseo a blur, a ghost, an apparition that he almost hopes was just haunting him if it meant that he didn't have to actually be here in this room with him. wonders if they have other gazes on them even if seems like no one else is here, thinks that not just his tech had been affected, because he can't even see the glow of his mask, any of the usual extra details with his eyes.

"minseo-yah." sangwon calls out, a quiet hush of voice that only feels wrong by virtue of the fact that he never calls him by his name. it feels off in his mouth because he knows what will better replace it, but if someone is listening, then he would never have them know the things that he intends for minseo and himself to keep for themselves.

it fills in, like a crossword, like an answer, in his mind, and there's that panic in his heart rising in beat, wrong, wrong, wrong, yet he tries to stay calm, to look for a way out of this room, just the door, the shitty door, no wonder there's no fucking light in here.

it aches in his chest. "minseo." he'd only called him by his name once. it had been wrong then, too.

"you have to wake up for me. wake up for me." he can't even reach him. can't touch him, his wrists straining against whatever metal they have chained around them, only able to stretch out a leg, a brush of their shoes and he curses under his breath.

if they were here for sangwon, then they'd pay. he'd make it slow, and easy, and make sure everyone and anyone knew how fucking stupid it was that they tried to begin with. he'd ruined people before, he could do it again.

sangwon's had his fair share of waiting, in the past. he'd like to think it's made him patient, but really what it makes him patient for is how long he can sit alone with his thoughts before they're broken. and he's dealt with his fair share of agreements that end up falling through, but he contemplates the possibilities of the arrangement as he nurses his drink. they could be late, which is why he sits alone in this seat, or he's the second one there. the thing about meeting up with someone from a contact is that he doesn't know what they look like, and the probability of someone knowing who he is--- it's happened before, but he doesn't always expect there to be any type of recognition unless it's pretty little pills they're looking for.

information is something he deals in less, if only because the deals get a little more risky, and sangwon's just trying to enjoy himself, when he's off work. or when he is off work but really, is he, because he's just doing what he can to get the information he needs even with the mask on, and it's a little more fun, when he doesn't know who he's about to meet.

so it's why it's funny, when irin shows up at his side and motions him to follow. it's the last face he could have thought of seeing at a place like this, and so he wraps his fingers around his glass and stands. the likelihood of irin knowing who he is--- that's something he'll see before he does something rash about it, and, instead, goes with the probability that irin is involved in quite a few more things than he anticipated him to be.

one of the other things that strikes him as he strides back to the table he'd reserved to sit a good distance away in the other chair, is that this deal isn't about to have him learning anything, if irin's going to tell him the same thing he knows in the file. and if irin does know something that he wasn't telling sangwon, well, it's what has him actually sitting in the chair, calm, calculated motions.

his words don't seem to give away that irin knows who he is. so he goes with it, and doesn't show any recognition on his part. his mask is carefully dark, and even when he speaks, it vibrates in non-discerning patterns, muted colors as the voice mod skewers his voice unrecognizable.

"if there was, i don't keep up with old world musicians to know enough about it." his mask gave him the anonymity and freedom he needed to navigate as he saw fit, and the lights and colors hooked up to his own cognition was something he controlled almost naturally, at this point, second nature as it bleeds from one thing to the next to express himself when he had nearly the entirety of his face covered. it had felt too cold, when the mask was dark, before.

he shrugs his shoulder, takes another heavy sip of his drink and wishes he wasn't as sober as he was to deal with something like this. he was aware that there were others in the division that weren't as clean as he was, either, but he looked the other way unless he saw it fit to not, and he supposes this is another one of those occasions. sangwon wondered just what irin got up to, to end up sitting opposite him at this bar, to sell him information that he'd probably had in his hands hours previous as he carded through the file once more. "it seems unavoidable in this city, whether you filter it through or not."

the sky's clear, when sangwon places his bet on the race. shining stars that blink down unbiased on the scene below, and he hadn't hesitated as he set his bet on dew, had been for the last few races, now, the ones that he was competing in. he thinks even if he didn't know iseul he'd be confident in swaying the pools in his favor, after he'd seen him race. and yes, maybe it's a little bit for appearances, too.

even before they talked--- that seems farther away, now, a time when he didn't know him in passing, when he didn't need to know him, versus when that case settled down on his desk. a trail ran cold but they're still determined to get someone to answer to it, the file thick with pages of information that had been collected over the years, and sangwon left with the pieces to put together. and sure, he figured he could start easy with the son, visiting his doorstep for questioning, it's protocol, it's natural, to start with family, but he thinks there's a reason the file is unfinished.

he suspected the meeting wasn't going to garner him anything. not as detective ahn, no, that seemed clear enough. but as blade? he was already a common face in the nightrunner circle for his betting habits, and asking around about such a notorious ex nightrunner was easy, even easier, when he gets directed to that ex nightrunner's son.

it's almost too easy, then.

it's iseul. he figures it makes sense, for him to follow in his father's footsteps, but then it's just so easy to find an alibi for why he's asking around so much about him. at first, he doesn't even intend to bring it up after the initial resistence he experienced as detective ahn, but one day iseul mentions his father owing a lot of people money and sangwon just slips into the role without thinking. of course his father owed him money, but he's just more concerned about where he went off to then the debt he owed. and surely, this would get him more than that animosity on iseul's front doorstep, sangwon gets it, he wouldn't want to tell a detective anything either, not if he could help it.

but then.. they talk. sangwon watches him race, listens to him as the stars shine, and at first, yes, he's grasping at any crumbs about his father so he can finally just make a move on the case, learn something new, but then it just slowly.. isn't all about that anymore. he looks forward to the nightrunner races just so he can talk to him, because it's not often that talking to someone doesn't leave sangwon with the inclination that he wants the conversation over as soon as possible.

it's odd. usually sangwon doesn't care about these types of things, just about the case. it is about the case, he keeps telling himself, leaning against one of the posts where he usually meets up with iseul before a race, somewhere nearby where all of the bikes are set up. he's half satisfied already that he hasn't run into sin, a pleased afternoon blue trickle of pixels across his mask as he finishes off a smoke.

a good mood, then. it's a nice night for a race.

at first, when people were telling him everyone thought dew must know where his father went, he almost believed them. it felt too risky to ask about it outright, but ever since sangwon went along with the story that he knew his father once, he thinks he almost sees.. something in iseul's eyes, when he talks about him, that would make him believe the opposite. that he doesn't know.

and there's a part of him, too, after pouring over case files and testimonies and asking around the place, that wants to know why it happened. it's already inherent in him to guess, to want to figure it out on his own, that he wants it to add up when it doesn't.

he sees a familiar figure in the crowd. he had thought he had passed him earlier on the way to the betting pools, but he figured he was just getting ready for the race. sighing out a cloud of blueberry, purple smoke fraying the features of his face, tainting his tongue, he steps off from the post and towards that familiarity.

he shakes his head a little at the mention of money, waving a hand. "i don't really care about the money. it's just a hobby, but that means i want it done right if i'm going to put my time into it." it's the truth, really, nothing he does is for the money, never has been. he's not in the need of it, and in lieu of the desire leaves the real crux of the issue, where his interests in who wins and loses lies within the reality of the race.

he blows smoke out of his mouth and tips the ashes at the end of it towards the ground, watches the embers glow orange until cold, gray ash is what falls, nods. "absolutely fucking nothing up there. it makes it too easy for assholes like this to rally up a fuck ton of them to do their bidding, like this one has." he watches idly as sin starts rolling the bike, and if he hadn't seen the way it raced he maybe wouldn't of known better, but he can tell that it doesn't have much left for it to go.

so he follows, a trail of smoke, lingering a bit to the side of him as he guides him back to where he had his bike. his gaze is discreetly cast to the side--- to the wasp and all of his followers, and they don't warrant any suspicions on his half that they're even paying attention to them. and they're there soon enough, sangwon had looked over here countless times, but not really lingered close enough to get a good look. he usually had other things to do then pay attention to the bikes.

"it might be a good idea, if they're going to start pulling shit like this. i would say it should be an official rule, but i don't really trust anyone to rally together a loyal group of people that couldn't be coerced either way depending on who they're rooting for, paid for it or not." he muses, and walks through the sand, noting the smudged out footprints of who'd been in and out of here, trying to make out the types of shoes, still idly smoking throughout the encounter.

he looks over to the toolbox sin points out and makes his way over, eyebrow raised. "if it's a good mechanic, yeah. if they left this here, then they're just fucking stupid." sangwon says, crouching down by the toolbox and holding the smoke between two fingers of his off hand as he opens the toolbox with the other, gloved grip revealing an incriminating sight.

sangwon laughs, despite himself. "they're just stupid. they left the nails in here." he says, and holds one of them up for sin to see. "does this look like what you got in your tire?" he shakes his head a little, there's odds and ends in there, a hammer and tape and pliers, and he lets the lid thud shut after he's done.

"maybe they thought they could get off with just saying the box is always here, you just rolled over a nail, got it stuck in there yourself. where was it positioned, again? could they claim that?" he remembers something about the back tire, but he didn't look at it well enough back when he first mentioned it, wants to look at it up close now that he's got something to compare it to.

sometimes he couldn't imagine how people have the thought process for these kinds of things and convince themselves it's foolproof, but then again, he'd seen so many cases, he isn't surprised at the supposed logic. there is an idle suspicion in the back of his head, though, at the sight of the toolbox so close. sin wouldn't sabotage his own bike to undermine another racer, would he? sabotage others just to frame him? why would he, when he still keeps winning?

truth be told, he should have known how the meeting would go when it started to rain on his way there. tucked his hood over his head to cover from the droplets, mask fitted over his face, glasses over his eyes, a privacy reflection that doesn't give away much else. he had done his due diligence, yes, he had returned to the scenes recorded in the files to see if he could find anything else, had talked to who he was able to find while he was there. sent more people down to the archives for more files, more information, spent too many nights sitting up, piecing things together. it had been a week or so, since he last spoke to irin that one night, in the archives, entertaining information and suspects.

it was about time he used blade.

asking around about some sort of short circuiting drug for cybertech was easy, especially with the connections that he had, and it directed him to someone who was willing to meet that had intel. he figured it could go two ways--- it could be someone trying to get him off their ass, or it could be someone who could be eased into a deal. he had things to trade, money, information, more of those little baggies in his pocket, and he wasn't too worried about the turn around. really, he was skeptical that anyone who would meet up with him for this wouldn't know anything different than he does.

he'd considered nearly every avenue he could dream up, at this point, so what he was searching for--- inspiration, a motive, something, and he figured starting here, getting his name out that he was looking, could prove more useful than the nights he'd spent up so far trying on his own. it had proved fruitful for him in the past, for other cases, ones he solved more as blade than detective ahn, and it had almost become second nature to him, then, to shift gears once he did enough officially.

it was wearing on him, though, this case. just like the rain that drenched into his coat, the leather gloves he's wearing clasped around the door handle of the bar they'd been arranged to meet in as he eases it open, lets in the wind and the rain chill. he doesn't let it show even if he feels that burn in his eyes due to the exhaustion, knows that a drink and a smoke will light him up better to get through this meeting and get him home before it's too late.

the door reveals low, dim lights and a quiet dim of people talking, the clanking of glasses and some sort of smooth music to set the tone, little red lamps lighting up the tables, an empty stage and corners filled with people talking over vinyl booths. he makes a beeline for the bar just to slide onto a chair, not really doing much to alter his appearance even despite the rain.

the pixelized expression on the dark mesh of his mask is an unsatisfied trill of disgruntled yellow-green, as he waits for the bartender to slide over his way, orders something strong and leans heavy against the lacquered wood as he waits for his order, and he waits for whoever was going to meet him there. he's the fourth seat down from the door, just like he agreed to be.

he doesn't always come here just for work. there are times where he lets himself fade into the shadows, listening, instead, to the set that shadow plays from his vantage in the club. doesn't indulge too often in dancing but listening, instead, watching, instead, the way the people at the club converge at the consistent tracks of music that flow together. he's been proxy to so much sound in this club that he mostly drowns it out when he's talking and selling, but he finds himself aware of it more, when shadow is playing.

even so, his comment makes him laugh. it jitters the pixels across the screen of his mask as the smoke trails from between his fingers where it sits. "my charms?" he says, and shakes his head a little. maybe charms, maybe a little bit of bribing, maybe a little bit of he's been here too long to not ask for a little bit of special treatment. "tolerable, yes, tolerable enough that i give you discounts, yeah?" his tone is joking, if it isn't reflected in the bright colors of his mask, even if his eyes are half shrouded to conceal the rest of the smile he's wearing.

"you shouldn't." sangwon says, and brings the smoke back up to his lips. easy exhale, in and out. notes the drink that's brought to shadow without a word, and looks over to the bouncer, who keeps glancing over. probably to make sure he stays comfortable, to watch whatever he's doing, too. the credit transfer is distant to him, even as he expects it. he halfway didn't even care, it's not like he needed money, it was just the satisfaction of it.

there's a sneer at the mention of astra. a flicker of red, mask glitching from one expression to the next. "do we even want them down here with us, at this point?" he thinks of his father a presence in his life again, that constant shadow of a figure breathing down the back of his neck, and thinks, errantly, that he'd prefer to do things the way he does them now, then to have his father constantly correcting him. his mother, another story, but both still--- he shakes his head a little, takes another long drag in lieu of saying something for another beat. "at least if they're up there, we don't have to fucking deal with them."

he watches him as he pops a few of the pills into his mouth, and considers doing the same himself. maybe when he's done with the smoke, letting that calmness trickle into his blood until he's craving the next thing, the next hit. "their supply wouldn't be as good as mine, anyways. nobody's shit is."

despite starting off selling the extra from the enforcer department, the excess that wouldn't be missed, it ended up mixing into his dealings as blade, too. since it was good, quality shit he was getting from the department, especially because it'd been confiscated in the first place, he kept trying and testing through other dealers until he sold it too. blade was reliable because he made sure what he was selling was worth it, not too worried about the supply or the money when he took a good amount of it for himself.

fuck it. he digs in his pocket for something and he's sliding it into his mouth a moment later, something similar to what he had just sold shadow, and finishes off the rest of his drink as a chaser. leaves it at the edge of the table for someone to come and get it on their way by.

"definitely shouldn't let me have all of the fun." he says, and trips the guy on the way over. he figures they must be some low level, desperate for money and failing, sort of group, not enough to give any of their errand runners any formal combat training. enough that sangwon was able to more than keep up with it, make fools out of them--- was more like it. he watches the one careen to the ground, a groaning heap where he hears him trying to yell out something against the asphalt.

he looks over to the person he had been intercepting the fight for more than taking care of things on her own, considering the man crumbled to the floor, sparks shooting out from where sangwon considers is probably his cyberware. interesting. it's probably the issue of how many there were, and though it wasn't even with sangwon there, it was certainly better than one person against all of them. enough of an advantage to slip the altercation in their favor instead.

the one in front of him has managed to roll over. got a hand around sangwon's ankle, weak and useless, before he discovers the sight of his friend, sneering and getting up on his elbows as he spits blood onto the concrete, dripping down from his nose. must have knocked the shit out of it when he fell, sangwon thinks, but it's the name that comes out of his mouth next that leads to a flicker.

"you won't get away with this, rogue! it's not just going to be us coming after you, now." he growls, and sangwon knees him in the chest to send him back to the ground. there's a flash in his eyes, he had seen this name before, recently, too. a file on his desk, a silver paperclip keeping together all of the newspaper clippings, and that email sitting read but unanswered in his inbox. another detective from busan, looking for a hacker that had supposedly fled to ansan to get away from the group they were with before.

sangwon was supposed to look into it since he knew the most about the area, but most of the leads had ran dry, even as he'd asked around as blade, nothing too serious, yet. it feels a bit on the nose for sangwon to run into them like this, especially after all of his research had been more about him reading about the past, what had led rogue to run away to ansan, according to the news, and whatever the detectives over in busan had been able to dig up.

it would track, with the way she was so easily able to send two full grown men crumbling to the ground just for virtue of the fact they had cybertech.

"want to short circuit this asshole too? seems like he deserves it." sangwon calls out, one boot coming down onto his chest to pin him to the ground, hands sliding into his pockets as he applies pressure and watches the man on the ground squirm to try and get up, too dazed, having exhausted himself trying so hard to get a swing at sangwon that he used up all of the energy that he had to even fight against him.

he hadn't even been planning on advancing the case so soon, with what he'd been able to find out so far, waiting to hear anything else as blade, with the connections he had--- but here he was, within a few feet of who he was sure he was supposed to be looking for.

sangwon entertains the file after a moment. leaning over, one hand dragging the papers towards the edge of the desk closest to him, other hand pressing his glasses a bit farther up his nose as he reads over the file. he listens as he does, trying to piece together what he's able in-between them both. flips through the pages, eyes tracing over the names, the details of each failure, trying to think if he recognizes any of them as he goes. he wouldn't rule any of them out quite yet, before he looks into them to make sure, but it does seem so, at the surface, that there's no real connection.

he looks up to irin and back down at the photograph he nods towards, leaning over to look at that, too, face impassive as he takes the grainy image in before straightening once more, arms crossed over his chest. "i'd like to look into all of them. i'll get someone else on more in depth files for the rest of the victims and on this man, i want to see all of it. i'd also like to get someone back out to the places the victims were found, i might even go myself." he feels a headache coming in, sharp at the edges of his temples, even though his features don't change at the pain.

"at least to look if there's anything left that makes sense to the case--- or people they knew, someone who might have seen something suspicious. half of these reports, i think the enforcers there at first call were just trying to handle the panic. didn't get much more than that." a heavy sigh, knowing that he should have been there, even if he was bogged down with too many other cases to spare the time until now, when he was left with pieces to sort through where nothing quite made sense.

"i'd feel comfortable with a few more leads than just this one man, even if it looks promising with his records. just a few more avenues since things don't seem concrete at the moment, i don't want to jump to conclusions. there's too many people involved, too many families looking for answers. i want to give them the right one." closing and picking up the file, he sorts through whatever bleary thoughts he may have and sends a nod in the other's direction.

"i might come for another visit soon, whether it's to pick up some more files or look for myself. either that or i might be sending a few more people your way, looking for things." he waves the folder tucked in his hand, the nod his expression of what gratitude he had for the information, eyes sliding over to what of the light that streams in, and thinks about how it's time for him to head back to his office, if he should sleep or even attempt the walk back to his apartment, if it would be worth the short amount of rest he could afford himself before having to turn right back.

he should go and investigate the scene, today, but he wonders if going as detective ahn would garner him any more than going as blade. if he should wait until the nighttime gives him enough cover to go poking around, probably let into more places than he would when he's wearing his badge. still--- he thinks if he sits in his office for another full day, he truly will start to feel himself rot right into the desk that he leans so heavily against when his exhaustion hits him this hard after so many sleepless nights.

sangwon relied on a certain kind of order--- a continuous, reliable routine, sit, walk, rest, walk, smoke, sit, walk. do it all again, pull the whiskey out of one of the lower drawers of his desk when the hours got too late, pour it into his coffee, sit there until the office felt like too much like suffocation, dark walls, lined bookcases with the same spines, the same words bleeding into his vision, no conclusions until all he can do is walk home, repeat, repeat.

his coffee had ran cold and he hadn't moved in the last few hours from his desk, reading over reports of the latest cases he'd been informed about, several indications of cybertech failure leading to the division guessing there must be some sort of cause, some anomaly linking them all together, not just one, isolated case of a bad installation, the wrong kind of medication affecting the mechanical aspects and malfunctioning, an unreliable doctor, a new mix of a drug. all of the possible reasons ran through his mind as he scoured news reports and the scribbled writing of the enforcers, mulling it over.

the photographs are scattered across his desk, fingers running over his eyes behind his glasses before he stands, deciding to take a walk down to the data archivist's office to get more of the files himself. what he had wasn't enough, and he needed the walk, coffee leaving him jittery for whatever time of night it was, sangwon didn't even know, curtains draw tight to obscure the view of the city he had and didn't care for.

glasses slipped down his nose, he makes his way there devoid of a suit jacket. there was barely anyone in the office, and so he afforded himself this one discrepancy in his appearance for the fact that the hour was late. pushing through the door, he's surprised to see irin sitting there, but it doesn't show across his features as he steps inside.

"good evening." he murmurs, voice low from disuse, one hand in his pocket as he walks up to his desk. if he was down here, it was usually during the times that he knew he wouldn't be seen on these lower levels, digging for more information when he needed it on someone and didn't want to ask. he had the clearance, anyways, and already had the reputation for being here when barely anyone else was. "is it too late already? the last few hours kind of bled together, reading over these cases." he continues, though he thinks that's maybe the reason his eyes are burning, lack of sleep, too, sunken eyes and bruised color of the skin there.

sangwon watches him wave the file he'd gone on the walk to retrieve, see if it pieces anything else together for him if he reads it, past the data collected from the enforcers who were on the scene. he hadn't been able to be there at the time and wishes he had been, if only it would've given him more insight. keeps his gaze steady on him even as he drinks his coffee, head inclining towards the folder. "i figured i'd come and get it myself. gives me a reason to get up and walk."

"what do you think?" he says, maybe something about the time, the lack of sleep, that makes him more talkative than usual. he'll still read over the file, but listening to irin talk it through might prove beneficial, too. "a revenge plot? finding out if all of the individuals are connected somehow is time consuming, but if they're all random, then it all really depends on if it was someone, something, giving it to them, but there's no leads pointing to one." sangwon sighs, other hand slipping into his pocket, already feeling the headache he had double over.

"unreported drug trials? maybe it's part of a bigger plan, some group trying to find a new way to fight? all of these people, though, they didn't seem like they'd be swept up in all of that." he knows better than to assume what other people have to hide, but as he leans his hip against a chair, it's with a shrug of his shoulder.

"it would just be too easy then, wouldn't it?" the pixels of his mask shift and change, trying to find the right way to rearrange until it's a unsettled mass of yellow and orange and red, buzzing. "what's the point in doing what's easy? if everyone bet on you and there's no betting pool at all, no odds, no one on your other side, do you even have a challenge?" he shakes his head a little, boot scuffing through the dirt, kicking it up around him.

"guess i don't know what you race for, don't really care, either, but half of the people here are for the money. the thrill of who's gonna win. and if you can guess? then what's the point in the bet?" it fizzles out into the air as he says it, not even loud enough for the stars to hear, slipping his phone in his pocket but hating the way his hands don't have anything to do, itching for something, reaches for a smoke just so he can fiddle with it between his fingers, appease that slight shake to them.

he raises an eyebrow when he suggests the bets were almost in his favor. he had been paying attention to the group of people trying to take over the betting pools earlier, all of those little buzzing friends betting large sums of money to inflate the pool, and sangwon didn't really care about who the fucking wasp was, just that he was against sin, but they giggled like annoying hyenas and just made his head fucking ache, too giddy before the race had even started to warrant it.

he had seen those races, though, the ones that ended in flames, the ones that led crowds of people running out to see what was left in the wreckage of parts scattered across the beach. foul play seemed to be a reason when it happened so fucking much when it was against him, but fire already seemed messy and easy to sangwon, clear the fingerprints, yes, any of the evidence, but still, you could follow the trail of oil, especially when people get too confident about it.

notes the tape around the tire. watches sin dig out a smoke and fishes out his lighter, silver in the moonlight, and places the one he had between his lips to light it up, embers flaring up the edges of the mask, the dip of the pixels that veiled the lower half of his face, bubblegum pink smoke, smelling of flowers as he reaches out with a gloved, leather hand, tilting his head towards the smokes in sin's, flame flickering between them. he'd never admit to it being anything else than an offer of a light because he has one.

"i didn't see them fucking with your bike, but i did see some of those slimy ones trying to slink out over there before it started. they were making nasty fucking bets even before, like they knew they were going to win before it started. thought it was fucking weird, but they act like a cult, sometimes, when it comes to these racers. bet obscene amounts of money just for the loyalty of it." he shakes his head a little, smoke curling up and around him, gaze watching the ones that gathered around the wasp, dancing, yelling, but the ones at the edges, too, steadily watching on.

"just the nail in your tire? didn't smell any gasoline, either?" he's surprised they didn't even blow up the bike before the race, when it comes to sin's win rate, but he never thought they were smart. "honestly, they're fucking everywhere. getting back there is easy, and distracting is, too." he flicks the embers off his smoke into the dirt, lets out a sigh. what he hates more than anything is a rigged fucking race, even if he does win. takes all of the chance out of it, which is the reason he does it in the first place. it all feels empty, then, when it's all predecided, anyways.

"maybe it'll wash away everything that we want it to, especially in this fucking city." a drink to that, the glass raised to his lips just to feel the alcohol slide down his throat nice and easy, better than the bitter words in his mouth, something to clear them away, sharp and easier, finished faster.

his finger taps against the glass at the tease, yellow rippling through the expression that the mask finally settles on, a few pulses of it, the highest points of his low laughter translated through the voice mod he has, skewered. "you think i don't find my way up there on my own?" sangwon says, and it's true. even if it is on the arms of those he sells to, or a bit of a bribe to the bodyguards that stand near the ropes, he would find his way up there if he really needed to. "but you do make it easy for me, shadow."

and so he follows. through the crowd and past the bouncers, who probably have seen enough of them both, anyways, with the amount that they're at this club, that they're trailing after each other up towards the vip section. the difference is obvious, and his shoulders settle a little as they walk past even the crowded tables towards a quieter part of the room, thankful for the removed privacy, even if it was only maintained in distance.

settles down in the booth and leaves his drink on the table, reaching into his pocket for a smoke instead, lighting it in a moment with the flash of a flame before he tucks it back into his jacket, the smoke aquamarine blue, bright on his tongue as he presses it between his lips, mask blank, air permeated with the smell of spearmint as he exhales. "of course i did. figured the storm would make it hard for anyone to find anyone, much less me."

he tucks his free hand into his blazer as he lets the smoke trail vapor from between his fingers, pulling out a baggie full of colorful little candies, if anyone didn't know any better. then one more, just as filled as the other, and slides it across the table. "you can pay me for just one. think of the other as a consolation for all of the fucking rain." sangwon had extra prepared just in case, but shadow buys from him so often, he doesn't think much about the exchange. plus, it was from a recent bust back at the division, no one would even be the wiser than he'd swiped quite a bit of the evidence for redistribution. and for himself.

shaking his head a little, he takes another drag, leaning back heavily against the leather of the couches, taking up his own space. "storm makes it too easy for everyone to go out and play, even if it is stupid. maybe this one will be bad enough they won't go and try it." he's seen enough, done enough himself that he knows it'll happen. he would be lying, too, if he hadn't already been thinking about it, how easily the rain washes everything away.

here's the thing--- he has a bad habit of sticking his nose into business that isn't his. call it a detective's curiosity that sticks him into places he shouldn't be, but he's found out the best information that way. and even this one, he hadn't meant to find, no, he had been walking home from the club, pockets nearly empty except for what he'd saved for himself for later, smoke between his fingers trailing clouds of blue through the black web of particles, devoid of expression.

he hears shouting. shouting is normal, this city seems to communicate in it often, loud voices and car horns and the rocking, rumbling, earth-shaking thunder that grips the buildings and the streets as the rain pours down. but then he looks, and he sees someone getting cornered down this shitty little alley, slick in oil and smoke and dumpsters splashed in color, and his step hesitates. it's not his business, but how could he let something like that happen when he sees it? it's not even fair.

there's three closing in on just one, and even if he joined, it still wouldn't be even, but there'd be a better chance. so he thinks--- either he'll learn something or he'll save someone or he'll get a one up on whoever decided to corner someone this sloppy, late at night in a location easy enough for sangwon to stumble upon.

he drops the smoke on the way in, crushed underneath the heel of a boot as he tugs his hood off, vision blocked by a set of glasses the outlines the length of them in cerulean even as he steps forward, fingers pulling taut on the line of his gloves.

"hey!" he calls out, voice rumbling lines of stark red against the mask, shaken vibrations as he tries to get their attention, echoing down against the bricks. "are you just fucking stupid?" it's directed to the bumbling suspects who decided right here, right now, was the best place for this--- nevermind that the enforcers patrol somewhere nearby here, but it's not like sangwon needed them. he would think any sort of criminal in the radius would be aware of that, but it seemed like these guys were just fucking stupid, or desperate.

he draws the attention of them for just a moment--- but it's enough to split them up. he can't take three but he can try two, or one, for the figure that's charging forward in the next moment, yelling about how he should mind his fucking business. he's leering at him, and sangwon steps to the side as he takes a heavy swing and misses.

"oh, c'mon, you can at least make it interesting. it's not my fault you guys don't know what the fuck you're doing." it's been awhile since he's actually felt challenged in a fight, all of those years of training, all of the extra hours his father ensured he got in an ease in his body that he slips into with the next breath, catching the man's arm, knocking him off course, watching him stumble against the asphalt as he rolls his shoulders.