Chapter Text
They were told it was cooperation.
None of them believed it.
✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩
London MI6 Headquarters
Lee Heeseung leaned back in his chair, ankle resting casually on his knee, as the holographic screen flickered to life. Redacted files bloomed open like secrets begging to be stolen.
“An international task force,” his handler said carefully. “Temporary.”
Heeseung smiled—slow, charming, dangerous.
“Temporary things are always the most interesting,” he replied, British lilt smoothened by something sharper underneath. Half this room underestimated him because of his grin. The other half already regretted it.
Seven agents. Seven countries. One enemy cell known only as Black Halo arms dealing, assassinations, information trafficking across borders.
“And the others?” Heeseung asked lightly.
“You will work with them,” the handler said. “And observe them.”
Of course.
Heeseung’s eyes flicked across the names. Korea. America. Australia. Japan. Malaysia. Taiwan.
He lingered on one file longer than the rest—**Kim Sunoo**. Passport discrepancies. Agency transfers. A dead partner.
Interesting.
He straightened, smile widening.
“Well then,” he said. “Let’s make friends.”
✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩✦꒷꒦✧*｡˚₊‧♡◌ ｡˚✩
New York CIA Executive Wing
Park Jay stood impeccably straight, hands folded behind his back like royalty addressing subjects rather than superiors. His suit was tailored within an inch of arrogance.
“This mission is non-negotiable,” the director said. “You’ll be representing American interests.”
Jay inclined his head slightly—not submission, acknowledgment.
“I expect efficiency,” Jay replied coolly. “And clarity. Multinational teams tend to lack both.”
The director didn’t argue.
Black Halo had been interfering with American assets for months. Jay didn’t care about ideology—only results, leverage, profit. Espionage was business, and he had been raised to win.
“And if the others interfere?” he asked.
A pause.
“You prioritize the United States.”
Jay smiled thinly.
“As always.”
✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮✮❦꧂❦✮
Canberra ASIS Medical Wing
Jake sat on the edge of the examination table, hands gloved, quietly stitching a practice wound while his supervisor spoke. He didn’t look up—not because he wasn’t listening, but because he was listening too well.
Seven agents. Joint task force. High-risk field operation.
“Your role is medical support and negotiation,” the supervisor said. “We chose you because people trust you.”
Jake finally glanced up, warm smile effortless.
“People usually do,” he said. “That’s how you get them to talk.”
He skimmed the files, eyes catching tiny details—past injuries, psychological flags, combat styles.
“This one,” he murmured, tapping Sunghoon’s file. “Old knee fracture. He’ll hide it.”
The supervisor blinked.
Jake smiled sheepishly. “Just saying.”
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒰ঌ𐂯໒꒱꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒰ঌ𐂯໒꒱꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒰ঌ𐂯໒꒱꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒰ঌ𐂯໒꒱꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒰ঌ𐂯໒꒱꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒰ঌ𐂯໒꒱꒷꒦
Seoul NIS Private Training Facility
Park Sunghoon didn’t sit.
He stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, expression carved from ice as the mission briefing played. His knuckles were scarred. His shoulders broad. His body honed into a weapon after dreams of gold medals and frozen rinks had shattered.
“You will cooperate,” his handler said. “Failure reflects on your family.”
That got his attention.
Sunghoon’s jaw tightened.
“Who’s the target?” he asked.
“Black Halo. Eliminate if necessary.”
Good.
Strength was all that mattered now. Power. Control. He didn’t need teammates—only obstacles and enemies.
Still, as he scanned the roster, his gaze paused briefly on Sunoo’s face.
Too pretty.
Too dangerous.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
Taipei Underground Safehouse
Kim Sunoo applied lip gloss with surgical precision as the briefing played on a cracked monitor. He wore a school uniform today pleated skirt, soft cardigan, hair tied neatly back. Anyone watching through a scope would see innocence.
They would be wrong.
“International cooperation?” Sunoo laughed softly, voice high and sweet. “How romantic.”
The handler avoided his eyes.
“We need you because you disappear easily.”
Sunoo’s smile flickered.
His lover had disappeared too. Permanently. Courtesy of the Korean agency that once owned him.
He shut the compact with a snap.
“Tell them,” he said, voice dropping into its natural, velvet-deep register, “that if they try to use me again—”
“They won’t.”
Sunoo stood, skirts swaying.
“They always do.”
｡･:*:･★｡･:*:✶｡･:*:･★｡･:*:✶｡･:*:･★｡･:*:✶｡･:*:･★｡･:*:✶｡･:*:･★｡･:*:✶｡･:*:･★｡･:*:✶｡･:*:･★｡･:*:✶｡･:*:･★｡･:*:✶｡･:*:･★｡･:*:✶｡･:*:･★｡･:*
Kuala Lumpur Special Branch Armory
Yang Jungwon inspected a rack of firearms with calm efficiency, disassembling one without looking as his superior spoke.
“You’ll lead weapons coordination,” the man said. “This team will be… difficult.”
Jungwon nodded.
“I can handle difficult.”
Black belt. Tactical leader. Survivor of wars he’d never chosen.
He finished assembling the weapon and met his superior’s gaze.
“And if leadership conflicts arise?”
A beat.
“You decide what benefits the mission.”
Jungwon accepted that easily. Selfishness, after all, was sometimes necessary.
˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚
Tokyo PSIA Training Hall
Ni-ki didn’t bow this time.
He stood barefoot on the tatami mats, sweat still clinging to his skin, chest rising steadily as the screen behind his handler replayed footage of him taking down three men twice his size. His movements were sharp, economical—no wasted motion. Karate wasn’t just discipline to him; it was inheritance.
“You’re being deployed internationally,” the handler said. “Joint task force.”
Ni-ki wiped his face with the back of his hand, eyes dark with quiet amusement.
“So,” he said, voice calm, “you finally want me to play nice with foreigners.”
“This is not a game,” the handler snapped. “Your parents’ connections secured you this position. Do not embarrass us.”
That earned a slow, smug smirk.
“My parents,” Ni-ki replied, “never taught me to be embarrassed.”
He stepped closer to the screen, studying the other agents. Heeseung’s smile. Jay’s posture. Sunghoon’s stance. Jungwon’s stillness. Jake’s open expression. Sunoo’s carefully curated disguise.
“They’re all watching each other,” Ni-ki said quietly. “And you want me to watch them too.”
“Yes.”
“And if they become liabilities?”
A pause—longer this time.
“You report first,” the handler said. “Act later.”
Ni-ki’s grin sharpened, something dangerous flashing in his eyes.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll be very observant.”
He turned back to the mats, rolling his shoulders, already imagining how each of them would fall—who relied on strength, who relied on charm, who hid knives behind smiles.
This wasn’t cooperation.
It was a cage match dressed up as diplomacy.