“Tell us who your buyers are and I’ll make those ten years in jail go away,” Jungkook said to the perp sitting across from him. The man – known as The Reaper on the streets – was to be locked up for possession and distribution of illegal drugs unless Jungkook could convince him to give up the names of his clients. Honestly, Jungkook wanted the guy to rot in a cell for the rest of his life. Scum like him deserved punishment. But so did his clients.

The Reaper just scoffed and slouched back against the metal chair, regarding him with a defiant smirk. Jungkook maintained his cool. He’d managed to break others before him, he could do it again.

“Look, Tim – your name is Tim, right?” Jungkook looked at the file on the table, even though he’d memorized it by heart already. “I know you have a wife and a kid. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life away from them? By the time that you’re out of jail, you’ll have missed everything. Your kid will be all grown up. All those baseballs games, watching him learn how to walk, taking him to his first day of school. You’ll miss all of it. Do you really think he’ll forgive you for missing all of that?”

The Reaper still didn’t respond.

Jungkook decided to change his tactics.

“You may not fully grasp the situation you’re in, but I can assure you, you will not survive in jail. You’re relatively new to the drug scene, you really think your buddies are going to help you out?”

The man’s expression wavered for a second. Jungkook pressed on.

“The second we find your clients, you will have no one. They’ll be joining you in jail. Do you think they’ll be very happy with you then? You think you’re so powerful now, but in reality, you’re just a small, replaceable cog in a large machine. Help us now, and we’ll lessen your sentence. Don’t help us…” Jungkook shrugged and sat back. “We’ll see just how important you are to the clients you’re protecting so ardently.”

The man hesitated and finally spoke the first words since entering the room. “Alright, I’ll tell you.”

A loud noise blared in the room and several people walked in, slapping Jungkook on the back, praising him for a job  well done. Another agent unlocked the fake perp’s handcuffs. ‘The Reaper’ shook Jungkook’s hand, exiting the room. Jungkook stretched, suppressing a grin from his face. All new FBI agents were undergoing practice interrogations, and he’d just aced his. Not that it surprised him in the slightest. He knew when to switch between good cop and bad cop – usually opting for bad cop. He wanted this. He wanted this life. He’d been ready for it since he’d been a kid. Nothing was going to set him back. No practice interrogations were going to throw him off course.

“Well? How did you do?” Jimin asked once Jungkook had left the training building. The two walked to their dorm, Jimin buzzing excitedly beside him.

Jungkook finally allowed his satisfaction to show and smiled. “I’d be surprised if they didn’t make me a Special Agent soon.”

Jimin nudged him. “Once you’re out there fighting crime, everyone will run scared.”

Jungkook laughed. “Until then, I’m sure you’re keeping the streets safe. How’s your case going?”

Jimin looked at Jungkook, an apologetic expression on his face. “You know I can’t talk about that…”

“Yeah, I’m just testing my luck,” Jungkook said. They flashed their badges to the security guard inside the dormitory and Jimin continued to talk about the recent happenings in the FBI. Jungkook didn’t really care what happened between the fellow agents, but his friend never failed to keep him updated anyway. Jimin knew everyone and everyone knew him. He just had that kind of warmth that drew people in. Jungkook’s polar opposite. While people flocked to Jimin, they avoided Jungkook if it could be helped. Jungkook had acquaintances and colleagues, but nothing more. The only person he was close to was Jimin, and that was because they’d known one another since childhood.

Jungkook drew out their room key card and swiped it, pushing the door open. Jimin threw himself on his bed, letting out a deep breath. He rubbed his temples while he kicked off his shoes with his feet. Jungkook ed his shirt and stripped off his pants, opting for a more casual number consisting of jeans and top, black pants, and a blazer. Jimin had insisted they go out and celebrate with a few other agents who had also done the practice interrogation. Jungkook wasn’t feeling very social, but there wasn’t much that could be done to dissuade his friend once he had an idea in his head. If Jungkook ever had to interrogate Jimin, he knew the process would be very long and tedious.

The unmistakable sound of a pill being popped out of its encasement sounded. Jungkook turned with a frown. “Everything okay?”

Jimin nodded, a box of painkillers on his lap. He swallowed the tablet without water. “Think I’ve got a migraine coming. Don’t worry about it.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but worry about it. He sat down on his bed across from Jimin. “You know we can bail on tonight if–”

Jimin stood, pulling down his pants without warning. “No way in hell.” He grabbed a pair of jeans from the closet, jumping on one foot as he tugged them on. “You kicked today, that deserves celebrating.”

“Jimin…”

“No arguments.” Jimin changed into a casual top and grabbed his wallet. “Let’s go. I’ll be fine.”

Jungkook didn’t move.

His friend rolled his eyes and grabbed Jungkook by the arm, pulling him up. “I’ve handled a bullet wound before, I can handle a little headache. Don’t use this as an excuse not to hang out with everyone else.”

“I’m not,” Jungkook said, appalled. As much as he didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t chicken out.

Jimin fell quiet as they made way to the base exit. A group of other agents walked in front of them, laughing and talking animatedly. Jungkook recognized them from training activities and the dining hall, but apart from their names, he didn’t know anything else. He didn’t really take the time to get to know other agents. Their personal lives didn’t matter. All that mattered was their work.

Jungkook drove them to the nearby pub, listening to Jimin hum to the songs on the radio. They didn’t speak. Just sat in comfortable silence.

Jungkook parked the car, bracing himself for the night before they went in. Socializing for a long time wore him out. It was tough pretending to care about the things the other agents thought were amusing. Half the time they weren’t even funny. They just though they were after they’d had enough alcohol.

It was a Friday, which meant a lot of agents would be hungover the next day. Most everyone remained sober, but every once in a while they allowed themselves to let loose. Jungkook didn’t enjoy drinking, but Jimin did. Being in the force didn’t allow for many opportunities to drink, so it was advantageous if you didn’t like alcohol in the first place.

Jungkook stepped into the pub, following Jimin to the group of other agents. Jimin greeted them, a wide grin on his face. Jungkook hung back a bit and listened to the conversation develop. He only contributed when somebody directly referred to him. After two hours, he had a beer in his hand to avoid having to talk.

The pub doors opened and somebody entered, which Jungkook wouldn’t have paid attention to if the group hadn’t excitedly called the stranger over. A young man who looked just a tad older than Jungkook sauntered over. A waitress gave him a flirty wave and he responded with a wink. Jungkook gulped down a full mouthful of his beer, watching the man come their way. He already didn’t like him.

The man was somebody Jungkook didn’t recognize. He couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the fluidity of his movements as he manoeuvred through the tables and people. His brown hair, flecked with golden streaks, fell short just above his eyes, which were masked by a pair of aviators.

Jimin stood up, outstretching a hand to the newcomer. Jungkook felt a flicker of annoyance. Even Jimin knew this guy. How did everyone seem to know who he was? If he were somebody important, Jungkook would know him.

Jungkook attempted to look like he wasn’t really there, hoping nobody would notice how awkwardly out of place he was. As though picking up on this, Jimin exclaimed his name, parting the crowd like the Red Sea to ensure maximum awkwardness.

“There you are,” Jimin gestured to the man who was a few inches higher than Jimin but about eye level with Jungkook. “This is –”

The man interrupted, lifting the aviators to reveal a pair of gentle brown eyes. He beamed as he held out a hand to Jungkook. “Taehyung. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”