Super

04. paparazzi

"This is a very bad idea."

Taeyong glanced over at Mark with a look of absolute distaste painted over his sharp features. "And you're only getting that now?" he asked bitingly, more sarcasm in his voice than disbelief. "Not when Taemin recruited you, not when we were given the assignment, but now?"

Mark glanced away almost guiltily. The two of them had been sitting behind the wheel of a taxi cab, park innocently across the street from a club. It had been two hours since they had first taken up their positions, awkward and waiting for a certain someone so they could apprehend him and get the hell out, in Taeyong's words.

But Lady Luck seemed like she hated them. Not really surprising, considering their past failures.

It wasn't their first mission, and it wasn't like they had failed the other ones—they had ticked off the objectives, but had somehow managed to mess up one thing or the other every time. He couldn't help but feel that this time, it was going to end just as badly.

Taeyong bounced his knee impatiently, a slight scowl marring his features as he glanced out of the rolled-down window and to the world beyond. The only difference from the previous scene was the increased inflow of people as the sky had grown darker. As far as they knew, there were no cameras around, which made it easier for them with their bad spy imitation.

"Can I wear the mask now?" Mark asked suddenly, biting his lip and looking imploringly at the older man.

"No."

"It's been two hours!"

"I said no." Taeyong cast at him a glare powerful enough to shut him up, straightening in his seat and regretting it immediately. Pain flared up the muscles in his back and abdomen, coating the torso around his wrist in a layer of flame that stuck as slickly as oil on water. "Ouch."

The black-haired male glanced over at him with an empathic look, like they were partners in not only the mission, but also the pain. The rigorous training the members of the unnamed superhero team had to undergo every day for a few hours without fail was probably the one thing that united them, even if it was against the motion.

"How much longer?" Taeyong muttered, more to himself than out loud. Unlike his partner, he was still pretty hung up on having been assigned Mark as a partner, considering both the age difference and the difference in attitude. If Taeyong was a cynic, then Mark was Snow White.

"I have no idea," the Snow White in question replied, glancing down at his watch disappointedly. They hadn't been assigned more than a handful of devices that could provide them with much-needed help, and it had disappointed Mark most of all. Even now, he played with a small metal sphere in his lap, brooding in a way that almost made him look endearing.

"Stop doing that," the blue-haired male muttered, his eyes cutting to the window again—and widening. "That's him."

The target was a man of average height, slightly potbellied and hugely bling-ed out. Heavy gold rings decorated his hands and chains hung around what Taeyong assumed was his neck. When he smiled, a gold tooth winked in the street lamps' light.

"Where?" Mark was at the window in a split second like an excited puppy, thrusting his head out with an eagerness that Taeyong was sure would get them killed. He grabbed the scruff of the younger's jacket and pulled him back, ducking slightly.

"Mask," Taeyong murmured in a low voice, though he knew that no one was close enough to hear. "Get the flash."

"But dude, we could just get him with a smoke bomb!" Mark protested, lower lip jutting out slightly, no doubt excited by the comic book prospects in his mind. "Smoke the rest of them out, and like, pick the guy up."