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In-ho saw, out of the corner of his eye, a flash of red. Just for a fraction of a second.
He pretended not to notice. Continued talking, slamming open random doors, spouting obvious lies from his mouth as he crept closer to where the intruder was hunched under a table.
And then, like a tiger on its prey, he leapt forward. He shot the intruder's raised gun with his own, the other man spitting a curse as it clattered useless and smoking to the ground, and roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. The intruder shot to his feet, trying to buckle off In-ho's grip, ducking his unmasked face down as his hands curled into fists in preparation for an attack.
In-ho kicked his legs out from under him, forcing him to his knees and settling his gun against his head. The officer froze, still keeping his face bent down into the shadows. Not that it mattered. He would be dead in moments.
In-ho's finger tightened on the trigger, but... he was curious. Very curious, indeed, at the identity of this police officer who had pulled off the unimaginable stupid and impressive feat of trespassing the island alone and remaining undetected for the better part of a week.
In-ho's fingers curled to grasp the man's hair, and he yanked his head up roughly, making him cry out.
No.
His brother. His baby brother. God, he was six years old not three seconds ago, giggling and making faces to try and ruin In-ho's detective headshots. Wasn't it yesterday he was a tiny ball of energy, grinning widely and sporting a ridiculously adorable bowl cut and happy in any situation as long as he was in his Hyung's arms?
Fucking hell. Jun-ho.
His mouth gaped; his breathing stuttered behind the mask. Jun-ho grimaced as In-ho's hand twisted his head painfully, eyes filled with confusion and masked fear and cold defiance. In-ho let go abruptly, staggering backwards. He kept his gun trained on his little brother-- because what would Jun-ho do if he let him go? He would surely run, would surely be discovered, and then... and then...
God, no. Jun-ho would not die here, not ever. Shit, he's not even thirty years old.
And how-- how the fucking hell did this happen? In-ho would personally execute the entire team assigned to watch Jun-ho's movements, would drain the life from them with his bare hands.
In-ho held up his radio with shaking hands, studying Jun-ho's tense form still kneeling on the ground. His arms were positioned stationary at his sides, his face a mask of contempt and anger. He slowly drew himself up to his feet, watching In-ho warily, and In-ho let him.
"Guard 11. Come to my quarters immediately and discretely. Bring 18 and 30 with you." Guard 11, Kang No-eul. One of the only competents in In-ho's entire staff of psychopaths and ex-cons. As for 18 and 30... well, they were too stupid to cross him. And importantly, they were large and muscled.
Jun-ho had painstakingly trained himself to excellence in martial arts through rigorous physical exercise over the past years. In-ho couldn't subdue him alone.
"What are you doing?" Jun-ho's voice erupted angrily, looking as though he would charge In-ho at any moment, gun be damned. "Why not just fucking kill me already?"
In-ho said nothing, stupidly afraid that Jun-ho would somehow recognize him from his intonations alone. And... and he didn't know what to say. How to explain anything to this boy he raised, who still regarded Hwang In-ho as a hero.
Several moments passed in strained silence. Jun-ho's eyes darted around, surveying the room, looking for a way out. In-ho watched as they settled on his liquor cabinet, perhaps in hopes of smashing one over the Frontman's head. Don't try it, little brother.
Jun-ho's attempt was blessedly interrupted by the ding of the elevator, Guard 11 rushing out with the two others behind her. They froze for a second, quickly taking in the situation. 18 and 30 turned to look at each other in shock, while 11 remained rigidly composed and professional.
"Subdue him." In-ho ordered coldly, Jun-ho's eyes widening at the burly men approaching him. "Without harm."
Jun-ho threw the first punch. Of course he did. 18 managed to avoid getting hit in the face but couldn't entirely evade Jun-ho's fist, which glanced off his shoulder and knocked him back. 30 lunged forward, grabbed Jun-ho's right arm and twisting it behind his back, and Jun-ho slammed his head back into 30's own, trying and failing to dislodge the larger man's grip.
At a nod from In-ho, Guard 11 pulled a syringe from her pocket, and swiftly approached the commotion.
18 had managed to trap Jun-ho in a headlock and had blocked his carotid arteries. Jun-ho appeared to be weakening, his struggles against the two guards slowing, but then his eyes fell on the syringe in 11's hand and he was reinvigorated. Kicking backwards with his foot, he smashed into 18's ankle and sent all three men crashing to the floor, wheezing as 30 fell on top of him, still clutching his arm. 11 hovered over the pile, waiting for an opportunity.
In-ho's heart leapt with concern, having to hold himself back from running forward and comforting Jun-ho. There would be time for conversations and apologies later. Right now, Jun-ho needed to calm down and be relocated somewhere safe.
30 recovered quickly, slinging an arm around Jun-ho's neck and yanking him up by his arm. 18 quickly captured his left arm with a bruising grip on his shoulder, and Jun-ho...
Jun-ho bit him. He bit him, right on his hand, breaking skin and sending rivulets of blood running down 18's arm, blending with the red of his jumpsuit.
18 howled in fury, wrenching Jun-ho's arm back, and In-ho heard a snap.
Jun-ho cried out in pain, knees giving out until only a shocked 30 supported his weight, and In-ho was overcome with blind rage as he realized that 18, that miserable fucking piece of filth, had dislocated his little brother's shoulder.
In-ho shot him in the head without hesitation.
30 yelled in surprise, almost dropping Jun-ho's shaking body as he tripped back. 11 didn't even flinch.
18's worthless corpse crumpled to the ground, and In-ho rushed forward to replace him on Jun-ho's left side. His brother was frozen with pain, entire body trembling in agony as his arm hung limp out of its socket, and In-ho's heart ached with guilt.
It took one livid glance at 30 for the guard to collect himself, steadying his legs and gently holding Jun-ho's right side still.
Slowly, carefully, In-ho cradled Jun-ho's head in his hands. For a moment, confused with fear and pain, Jun-ho settled into the touch, closing his eyes and sighing. And then, as though injected with a shot of adrenaline, he shot back up, thrashing his limbs and attempting to pull his head out of In-ho's hands.
In-ho wouldn't let him. God, it hurt to do this to his little brother, but he had to. For Jun-ho's own safety.
He took Jun-ho's head firmly, tilting it to rest against his torso so that 11 would have better access to Jun-ho's neck.
Jun-ho strained against the arms holding him still, snarling in anger against In-ho's chest, but the older man didn't budge.
11 quickly uncapped the syringe, resting her fingers lightly on Jun-ho's neck to find a vein. Jun-ho withdrew from her touch as though burned, and In-ho began softly stroking his hair.
He used to do that all the time, when they were young and everything was different. He can see it so clearly. Jun-ho, restless and unwilling to sleep, instantly softening when his Hyung arrived. In-ho calmed him in a way their mother never could. He would spend hours combing his fingers through Jun-ho's hair, long after his little brother had fallen asleep, humming a melody and beaming at the peace on Jun-ho's face.
11 injected the drug, and Jun-ho hissed in pain, twitching in In-ho's grasp. He kept kneading his fingers through jet-black locks, and Jun-ho relaxed despite himself. 11 stepped away, and at a murmured order from In-ho, 30 released Jun-ho immediately, drawing back and running to kneel beside 18's corpse.
30's frame shook with muffled sobs. Grief for 18? Surprising.
In-ho didn't care.
He slowly lowered Jun-ho to the floor, taking infinite care to be gentle with his ruined shoulder. His brother fought against the drugs, but it was clear his energy was quickly being stolen by the chemicals. His body fell limp against In-ho, head falling into his older brother's lap as he dedicated all his power to keeping his eyes open. But that, too, was a losing battle.
As Jun-ho's tearful eyes slowly closed, he looked at In-ho one last time. He whispered something inaudible, probably a curse, a condemnation.
In-ho cradled his little brother in his arms, and imagined Jun-ho said "Hyung."