Chapter Text
Screams, a putrid smell laced with iron, the sound of something hitting the floor. Or is it two things hitting the floor? More screams. Lightning flashes on the other side of a window, accentuating the blood pool forming in the middle of the room. The shadow of the body sprawled across the ever-growing crimson red stain elongates impossibly in the room with the flash of light. So does the shadow of the severed head.
Changbin doesn't know what to do with himself. The team was in disarray ever since that night, and he couldn't blame them. After all, he still spent his days in the training area trying to get his mind off of things. Punch, kick. The punching bag swings and the chains anchoring it to the ceiling rattle slightly. If only he had been faster, stronger, if only he had foreseen the ambush, Choi Sung-jin, their mentor, their leader, would still be there. The others looked up to him. He was the third oldest team member apart from Minho and Sung-jin, who was already in his 30s, and he had more experience than most of them. He should have been able to predict that the aberrations would be lying in wait in that building. But he didn't. And Sung-jin paid the consequences.
In a quick, fluid motion, he twists his body, planting his left foot on the floor firmly for support and bringing the right leg up. The hit connects on the side of the punching bag, which rocks dramatically. The chain holds, but specks of dust and paint float down. He stares, brow furrowed, to the point in which the chain meets the ceiling. How long has he been down there? Not that it matters anyway. The next punch meets the leather unceremoniously, no elegance, no technique. Just pure frustration followed by a grunt and a sob. They all knew that hunting aberrations was dangerous. Most of them had a tragic tale that justified putting their lives on the line every other night. Only a few whackos enjoyed it. But still, the loss burnt in his chest as if someone had branded his skin with a red-hot iron. It hurt more than the time he had broken his arm on a mission. It felt so unfair. Just a couple of days ago, Sung-jin was there sparring with him. Now it was just him, the punching bag and the pain in his chest.
Mornings were especially rough. He would wake up to a silent house, the other members of the team sulking in their rooms or doing chores on autopilot. There was no trace of the ruckus that usually filled their base, their home. No Minho humming whatever song had him obsessed at the moment. No Felix cooking breakfast for everybody. No Hyunjin asking to stay in bed 5 more minutes while Seungmin tried to wake him up. No Jisung trying to start an argument with Jeongin about the movie they had watched the night before. And no Sung-jin reading the news on his phone. That absence of joy hurt so badly that he isolated himself in the training room, hoping that the thud of his fists hitting the leather of the punching bag was enough to drown his thoughts full of anger and sadness.
"Binnie, why don't you come upstairs? I've made some tea" when he hears Felix's voice, it's like being snapped back to reality. Suddenly he is aware of his surroundings again. The training room smells of sweat. His hands are hurting under his gloves, and he's pretty sure that the skin of his knuckles is starting to peel off from the constant punches he has been throwing all day. He should probably stop, but he doesn't want to. Only the worried expression on Felix's face makes him nod.
"I'll be right up, let me just… freshen up" he waves a towel in front of him, as if to make a point. Felix smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Still, the boy nods back and turns away from Changbin, giving him some much needed space to gather his thoughts. He waits until he doesn't hear Felix's footsteps anymore to let out a shaky sigh. He's not sure he's ready to face the others yet. He knows that he will keep grieving for a long time, but he needs to stop being so self-indulgent. And he needs to pull the team together. They still have a job to do, even if Central Command was lenient enough to grant them some days to process Sung-jin's death. They need to be back on the streets, hunting aberrations like they are supposed to. He sends a quick text to Felix to let him know that he is going to take a shower before going up. The hot water washes over him and he cries again.
The rest of the team is already in the living room. The atmosphere is gloomy and charged with the smell of the sweet berry tea Felix likes. There is a cup in front of an empty spot on the couch, next to Hyunjin, who is looking downwards. Hyunjin, who is usually so sharp looking, so smart, now has puffy eyes and a red nose from crying. The roots of his hair are starting to show, much darker than the blond dye. Changbin sits next to him and nudges him in the shoulder, incapable of sharing any words that will cheer him up. He reaches out for his cup of tea, almost cold already, and takes a quick look around the room. All of them look equally miserable, even if Felix is wearing that smile that still hasn't reached his eyes.
"Where's Minho?" Changbin says, and he notices that his voice sounds hoarse and weak.
"Central Command called" Seungmin has a blank expression, as if trying his best not to break down in that very moment. "He stepped out a while ago to check what they wanted."
Changbin furrows his brow and sits back. The break is probably over. They might as well be naming Minho the new leader of the team, as he is the oldest, even if Changbin has more field experience than him and would usually outrank him. Changbin had always had a knack for pissing off Central Command, so he is quite sure that he will not be named new leader of the Jeju Island team. No, Minho taking point makes more sense.
"Ah, Changbin, you're here. Good. Central Command just called." Minho breaks the silence after a few minutes. Even under the mask of professionalism, Changbin can tell he is struggling to keep a straight face. "They are recalling the substitute hunters back to Seoul in three days."
Everyone lets out a grunt of discomfort. Changbin almost wants to laugh at the synchronized sound. Some quick conversations start to break out between the members of the team, complaining about their short-lived break. Minho is still standing by the entrance to the living room with a worried expression on his face, waiting for the rest to calm down. Little by little, everyone goes quiet again.
"There's more" Minho swallows, uncomfortably. Here comes - Changbin's mind is already anticipating the announcement. "They have appointed a new team leader. He will be arriving tomorrow morning to the airport."
He will be… what?! "WHAT?!" Changbin explodes, jumping off the couch. "What do you mean he will be arriving tomorrow? We don't need some asshole from Seoul to run this team!" He could use the punching bag about now. He can see that the others are equally as uneasy about this as he is. Bringing in someone new? That was unthinkable. He would mess up their teamwork and that could be lethal.
"Apparently he is one of the best hunters of this generation" Minho goes on, angrily. Changbin gathers that he was also expecting one of the two of them to get the promotion. "The guy from comms basically said he is a genius."
"And who the fuck is this supposed hotshot, then?"
Minho shrugs and plops down on the couch, putting a hand on Changbin's shoulder and dragging him down as well. "I only know that his name is Bang Chan."