“What?” 

 

Park Sooyoung practically hisses into her phone.

 

She was pissed. It wasn’t everyday that she gets to soak up the sun on a two-day beach trip outside the country, and that wasn’t even the best part; Chanyeol was far away from her hair—an entire sea away.

 

But no—

 

The pesky thing has been vibrating for a persistent ten minutes.

 

“My, my, my. Why so hostile? Don’t you even miss me?”

 

Yerim.

 

That little rat.

 

“Somebody better be dying, and it better be Chanyeol.”

 

There was a half-hearted groan on the other side of the line. “Why do you never give your brother a little respect?”

 

“Get straight to the point. Boss wants me back?” Sooyoung rolls her eyes, and very much hopes that Yeri felt it.

 

“Bad news: yes. Good news: nobody died.”

 

Sooyoung chuckles. “How’s that good news? Somebody dying would be exciting.”

 

“—but somebody is back from the dead. Guess that’d be way more exciting,” and Yeri leaves a long gap, almost seeming like she was leaving room for Sooyoung to squeal.

 

She was Park Sooyoung though; she doesn’t squeal.

 

However excited she may be, she would rather die than let it show. “Don’t tell me.”

 

Yeri laughs. “I won’t. So, come back as soon as possible, and see for yourself.”

 

Sooyoung cuts the line, tosses her phone, and takes one last sip of her piña colada, because friends digging themselves out of a grave could only mean one thing—

 

This was going to be one hell of a ride.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Let me get this straight—“ 

 

About 48 hours later after necessary phone calls and arrangements were made, here they were, behind the mirror of an interrogation room.

 

Oh, and yes—there was Yeri, bitter about having to sit on the watch-and-observe side of the situation, along with Seulgi, and Sergeant Kim.

 

“—you put Chanyeol and Sehun on interrogation instead of me?” Yeri finishes, eyes boring holes at Sergeant Kim’s profile. “Sergeant, let me repeat myself: you put Sehun—One-Word Sehun on interrogation, Chanyeol whose been throwin’ around a Magic 8-Ball for the past thirty minutes, and I am stuck here?”

 

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen,” Sergeant Kim starts, “this was Seulgi’s idea.“

 

“Sehun can be pretty intimidating,” Seulgi reasons out, making Yeri look even more insulted.

 

“He didn’t seem intimidating this morning when he cried like a baby after seeing you,” Yeri retorts, making Seulgi actually chuckle.

 

“Chanyeol cried, too,” Sergeant Kim adds. “He cried harder than Sehun.”

 

Yeri snorts. “That’s not helping.”

 

“Yeah—that’s not helping,” Seulgi puts a hand on her chin and nods, “but, trust me, these are just the people you need for this kind of guy.”

 

“Why can’t Seulgi and I be on the other side of the mirror?” Yeri mumbles.

 

“That—um—I was the one who prohibited you both on the other side,“ Sergeant Kim brings a hand to his nape. “—this kid is an idol and some politician’s nephew. Plus, I’m worried he’ll break more than what Seulgi already broke for him the night of the scuffle.”

 

Yeri gasps, Seulgi wasn’t sure if she was feigning offense. The latter wasn’t really bothered though. “Discrimination! Women are not the sole source of violence!”

 

Seulgi shakes her head but was sporting a smile anyway. “How much do we know about politician involvement?” 

 

“About that—“ Sergeant Kim sighs and taps a finger on the glass. “—it’s kinda messy since the election of the new president. He’s been bringing his cronies in, including that boy’s uncle. God, I hate that guy.”

 

Yeri whistles. “Sounds like you’re not a fan of Mr. President.”

 

Sergeant Kim shrugs the comment off and rubs at his eyes. “Yeah, but we won’t be ticking any of our leads off if none of these guys actually talk,” 

 

“Which is why Sehun and Chanyeol are just who we need,” Seulgi says with a bigger smile.

 

Yeri blinks. Seulgi really is smiling. She suddenly feels a little less bitter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You see this guy over here?” 

 

Park Chanyeol nods his head toward the quiet fellow seated next to him while his hands passed around a Magic 8-Ball. “This guy can squaffash you, Kim Donggun.”

 

“That’s not a word,” Donggun scoffs.

 

“I’ll tell you what’s not a word!“ Chanyeol bangs a fist on the metallic table separating Sehun and him from Kim Donggun. “Your fate, pretty boy.”

 

Donggun looked genuinely confused for a second.

 

“Jesus,” Sehun mumbles under his breath as he bounces his leg in second hand embarrassment. He doesn’t break character however. Seulgi told him to just stay put and not say a single word. He had to have faith in Seulgi’s tactics. There was a reason he and Chanyeol were put on brat watch.

 

“So, what’s up with your friend?” Donggun asks with a smirk, probably sensing Sehun’s discomfort. “Cat got his tongue?”

 

Chanyeol scoffs and brings the 8-Ball to Donggun’s face. The latter starts at the gesture, wiping the smirk off his face in a second. “You see, that’s what he looks like when he’s minutes away from squaffashing people.”

 

There was a flash of worry in Donggun’s eyes. “What does squaffash even mean?”

 

“Do you really want to know what happens to you in the next minute?” Chanyeol gives his Magic 8-Ball a shake, startling Donggun again. He smiles. “You see, there are many things in this world you need to respect, you privileged brat. That includes the squaffash and this sacred 8-Ball.”

 

“You are a bunch of freaks—” Donggun’s handcuffs start to rattle a little as he attempts to move back. “You’re cops. You can’t possibly sq—squaffash.”

 

Sehun remains eerily quiet, and Chanyeol’s smile morph into a smirk as he makes a show of reading the words on his Magic 8-Ball. “The ball has spoken. My friend hasn’t squaffashed in a while, and I bet he’s dying to.”

 

“What does it say—what does it ing say!” Donggun was now attempting to break free from his cuffs. 

 

Chanyeol turns the ball enough for the suspect to take a peek at the words:

 

‘Outlook not so good.’ 

 

“You’re crazy! Tell your creepy friend to not squaffash me! You’re ing cops!”

 

Both Chanyeol and Sehun were smiling now. Honesty had to be given at a certain point.

 

“Wrong,” Sehun says loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Then, he casually gestures at himself and Chanyeol. “Criminals.”

 

Donggun’s eyes were downright wild now.

 

“We used to be criminals, and we’re just helping the cops with their dirty work to serve our time. So—“ Chanyeol puts the little black ball on the table and flicks it toward Sehun, who catches it without looking, “—what’s it going to be, pretty boy?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Please! I’ll give you everything you need! No squaffashing!” was all they needed to hear on the other side of the glass.

 

Yeri was dumbfounded. 

 

Sergeant Kim was laughing.

 

Seulgi hid an nth smile behind a hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The team was setting out for the briefing room, when Seulgi hears Wendy’s much needed cheerful voice call for her from across the floor.

 

“Batgirl, hey!”

 

It was probably amplified by the fact that she had spent a few hours in a much darker room, but—she was sure—Wendy made the precinct so much brighter.

 

“Hi,” she says back as Wendy walks up to her, holding what looked like her own jacket from ‘that night’. “Did the sergeant send for you?’

 

“Yes, something about briefing, and—“ Wendy hands over the jacket, and Seulgi almost feels like hitting something because of the little dent she was sure was on her heart now, “—I wanted to return this. I was getting pretty bored in the hotel room, too.”

 

Right, she was put in temporary protective custody.

 

“Uh—“

 

Think, Kang! Think!

 

“No.”

 

Okay, what the hell. She definitely could have said that better.

 

“I’m sorry?” Wendy says with a little furrow on her brow.

 

Seulgi was a hair away from hitting her own forehead with a palm. “I mean—It’s yours. You can keep it.”

 

“Oh—oh, I—thank you.”

 

And watching the other woman secure her jacket in her arms, that felt nice and warm. She would’ve pumped a fist in the air—really, but this was the precinct where three quarters of a pack of laughing hyenas (i.e., Yeri, Chanyeol, and Sehun) could be found, so she’d rather not. 

 

“How’s your cut?”

 

Oh, they were apparently still in a conversation.

 

She didn’t have anything thought of after the big ‘the-jacket-is-yours’ move.

 

Seulgi tentatively lifts a hand to touch the stitched up brow, hoping very much that she’d come up with newer and better dialogue from said brow

 

But her trained instincts suddenly kicks in. 

 

There was a second’s ringing of metal cutting into air, and the same hand she had lifted was now pulling Wendy into the safety of her embrace and out of the original spot where the shorter girl had stood seconds ago.

 

Wendy gasps in surprise.

 

On the wall beside them, an army knife was now planted nicely and firmly.

 

“Well, well.”

 

That voice.

 

Seulgi would have pulled a gun, but there was no malice in that new presence, only a certain sense of familiarity. 

 

“Sooyoung?” Seulgi says in between attempts of her lungs to pump air back into her startled system.

 

“In the flesh.” Sooyoung walks her way across the precinct in shades, what looks like her airport outfit, and a tan. She lowers the darkened glasses and smiles at the smaller person who was now peeking out from Seulgi’s arms. 

 

“Oh, forgive me. I was curious to know who managed to dig this one out of hell,” she says with a playful finger poking Seulgi on her cheek. “I’m Park Sooyoung.”

 

Wendy clears , and Seulgi finally remembers to let go. The former extends a hand to Sooyoung who gladly shakes it. “Wendy Son.”

 

“Oh, I know you. I’m a fan,” Sooyoung says as she makes a show of dusting the top of Wendy’s head. “Forgive the stunt. I just wanted to know how ready this one—“ another tap of a finger on Seulgi’s cheek “—was for—hmm—some action.”

 

Then she winks at Seulgi.

 

And just like that she walks away, luggage still in tow.

 

Looks like the hyenas were now complete. Seulgi could very well kill Sooyoung for the ploy and all the implications of her comments. She is a hundred percent sure Yeri and Sooyoung had talked about ‘things’ outside work.

 

“Your friends are...interesting,” Wendy says, breaking Seulgi out of a train of murderous thoughts.

 

“Not my friends,” Seulgi mumbles under her breath.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” Seulgi forces a smile, and at the back of her mind she was sure she only looked like she was in pain—

 

(Which she was, figuratively speaking)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Let me guess—squaffash?” 

 

Sooyoung looks almost uninterested, but she asked anyway despite making a show of how busy she was with sorting five different kinds of knives.

 

Five other heads nod. Two fists connect with a fist bump.

 

“What’s squaffash?” Wendy asks Yeri who was a seat between her and Seulgi.

 

“It depends,” Yeri answers nonchalantly.

 

Wendy looked even more confused.

 

“Based on the information we got out of Mr. Charming, he is both a pusher and a user, but he insists none of his crew are actual members of Atlantis,” Sergeant Kim says as he moves his laser pointer around a bunch of pictures on their board, ten of which were all familiar to Wendy and Seulgi.

 

“And do we believe him?” Sooyoung asks, dagger twirling by the tip on one of her fingers.

 

“Considering how he was too afraid to be squaffashed, and how he asked for a prison cell closer to the warden, we’re pretty much believing him,” Sergeant Kim says with a shrug. “We haven’t gotten much out of him, but at least we have leads, and we’re not expecting any waves of attempts on Miss Son’s life for a couple of days.”

 

Sergeant Kim went on with a few trivial reminders, so Yerim uses the opportunity to ask Wendy in a tone loud enough for at least three people to hear—herself, Wendy and the person on her left (who happens to be the subject of her bigger purpose).

 

“So, Wendy-sshi. I can’t help but wonder—why Kim Donggun?”

 

She feels the little movement Seulgi makes.

 

Wendy definitely looks embarrassed. “I was tipsy.” 

 

“Hmm, explains a lot.”

 

Another movement from Seulgi’s end.

 

“Okay, men—“ Sergeant Kim starts, and the rest of the room were at full attention, “code names have been established and, for Miss Son, always remember that they are to be used on and only on comms. Oh, and because it’s 2020, Kang Seulgi is Bruce or Wayne—“

 

A series of ‘ayes’ rounded the room, Seulgi visibly stiffens, and her thumbs were suddenly twiddling.

 

“—Park Chanyeol is Bane, Park Sooyoung is Ivy, Oh Sehun is Jason or Todd, Kim Yerim is Alfred or Pennyworth, and Miss Son is Talia. Any questions?”

 

A hand shoots up.

 

“Yes, Yerim?”

 

“Are you seriously naming me after the old butler?”

 

Sergeant Kim responds with a deliberately prolonged sigh.

 

“Of all the people in the entire Batverse, I am the old butler? Seriously—and what’s with the Batman theme?”

 

Sergeant Kim nods toward Seulgi. “Wasn’t my idea.”

 

Yeri incredulously looks at the woman to her left . “I don’t recall you being a Batman fan.”

 

Seulgi drums her fingers on the table she shared with Yeri and Wendy. “I—uh—I had to think quick. It was the easiest to remember.”

 

“Huh.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The team disperses, each person with their own personal preparations to complete.

 

Seulgi walks out with Wendy as Sergeant Kim orders her duty should begin right after the meeting.

 

“So—“ Wendy starts at one point, “—do you prefer Batman over Batgirl?”

 

And Seulgi definitely wished she hadn’t stopped to look at the other girl because she was most definitely wearing a viral type of grin she probably caught from the hyenas.

 

“I’m kidding!” Wendy says with a laugh, and Seulgi almost thinks it’s worth it. “You’re not mad, are you?”

 

Seulgi shakes her head. Wendy, now sporting a pout, is unconvinced.

 

“Don’t pout.”

 

Wendy crosses her arms. “What if I don’t want to unpout?”

 

“Please, don’t.”

 

“And why shouldn’t I?”

 

The Checkmate. A pout and arms crossed. Checkmate. Jongin used to call it that.

 

Seulgi’s eyes narrow at the image—a reminder of the girl she had the luxury of being a seemingly long time ago.

 

‘Aw, you’re adorable,’ he would often say. He’d attempt to pinch her cheeks, too.

 

She knows Wendy was just being playful. She opens , but nothing comes.

 

“Batgirl—“ 

 

Seulgi shakes her head. Maybe the thoughts would go away, too.

 

“Hey. Are you alright?”

 

Wendy looked worried now, and Seulgi feels a gust of wind with it. It felt cold on her skin. She notices Wendy’s choice of clothes and the absence of the jacket she gave her.

 

“It’s cold out. Where’s your jacket?” Seulgi opts to say. It was suddenly cold. Too cold.

 

Wendy ends up apologizing profusely, and she bows about ten times before excusing herself to come back for it.

 

“I probably left it at briefing,” she had said and walks past one Kim Yerim who was wearing a cheshire grin.

 

“So, Batgirl, huh?” Yeri goads. “Explains a lot.”

 

Seulgi touches the cold mark of where Jongin’s ring used to be out of reflex. “It’s just a name, Yerim.”

 

“A pet name, you mean.” Yeri walks past her anyway, “—that gave Alfred and the rest of them their codenames.”

 

Right. Alfred and the rest of them.

 

Seulgi shakes her head at Yeri’s lingering bitterness. She smiles again, and looks out the street as she waited for Wendy.

 

The sun had shone over the city, where a whole lot of other people were. She thinks about colder nights and darker rooms, and now she was back in a den of people she had seen light in all those years ago.

 

Wendy comes back minutes later with Seulgi’s jacket on and a sheepish grin. She makes a comment about how Sergeant Kim was too stressed about the whole situation because he easily gets startled.

 

Seulgi smiles at her, barely registering the gist of her little story.