BAD HABIT (2JAE)

Chapter 1

The intercoms of the day room sparked to life with an ear-piercing screech as one of the officers phoned it over.

"Im Jaebeom, inmate number J11614 please report to your cell for release. I repeat, inmate number J11614, report to your cell for release." Within the three years he had been in that prison, the one thing he desired more than to be unclasped by the chains of prison, both physically and metaphorically, was the downfall of the man who put him there. In his normally unmoved fashion, he treaded towards his assigned room of confinement but didn't bother to take any of his belongings or give out his commissary. He didn't find conversing with people to be beneficial to him; forming bonds with prisoners was not particularly key to his objective.

No sooner than he entered, guards bombarded his door with handcuffs and shackles to escort him out. Other prisoners watched from their bunks and cells as one, two, four guards piled around the infamous inmate, gossiping in a clamorous manner to each other.

"Ah, he'll probably be back soon," One yelled.

"Yeah, probably to come to get you, eh?" The other prisoner drugs his thing across his throat, imitating a throat slash. "One clean cut and it's over for you!" The boisterous voices grew fainter as they reached the first locked door. The leading officer fumbled with his key searching for the right one from the endless ensemble. The door was painted a dirty navy blue which excellently accented the filthy beige walls and cracked tile floor. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the day he arrived.

After a quick and mandatory search, they removed his cuffs and arrived at a small office where his prison grabs were to be returned and a pair of street clothes awaited him - though they said they were "brand new," to Jaebeom they looked like they had been worn one hundred times over. With haste, he changed out of the light blue uniform and into the white shirt and black jeans provided. Rubbing his wrists to relieve the discomfort from the restrictive cuffs, he walked through an endless succession of corridors and locked doors and locked gates before finally reaching the reception desk. An older woman, maybe of near retirement age, stared from her high pedestal down at Jaebeom. She glanced over at her computer screen before clicking her tongue before pointing to an older wall phone.

"If you're gonna get picked up, use that phone to call whoever it is. And if not, come over here and sign for a bus pass." She spoke with a gruff, masculine voice, and a rather unfriendly tone. The young man turned towards the phone and dialed a very familiar number.

"Wang. It's me." He spoke. It felt like he hadn't talked to another soul in decades. "Call for a driver to pick me up. You already know the location so don't keep me waiting." He hung the phone up and turned back to face the receptionist once again.

"Your prior paperwork had been cleared." She shuffled the papers in her hand and placed them into a large manila envelope and placed it into one of her desk drawers to be filled later. "Your discharge certificate will arrive within six weeks. Sit down at the bench outside and wait for your escort to arrive." Her tone was even snappier than before, suitable for a prison administrator who seems close to retirement. He glanced up at the clock, reading 8:36 am, then to the door leading to the outside - which he hadn't seen in quite some time. Not wanting to stay in that cramped confessional like room, he walked out the silver doors and towards the bench.

9 a.m. came along and the escort finally pulled up to the curb.

"Master, it's nice to see you again," the escort said as he walked to the backdoor and swiftly opened it. Jaebeom nodded in acknowledgment before speaking.

"It's good to be back." He climbed into the back seat of the car and leaned back. "Keep it down, please, I'd like to rest on the way there."

"Of course, Master." Closing the door, the chauffeur stepped into the front seat, putting the key into the ignition and revving the engine to life. Promptly, they pulled into the street and began their journey back to his long-missed headquarters.

An hour of driving does wonders for the mind. Jaebeom sat in his seat, eyes loosely sealed shut, and thoughts rummaging through his head. If whoever it was who snitched was planning on getting away unscathed, they were gravely wrong; he had grand plans for the perpetrator that they were thoroughly going to enjoy.

The car came to an abrupt stop causing Jaebeom to jerk slightly forward. He ran a hand through his hair, fixing it up a bit from the car ride. He opened the door and stepped outside to be greeted by a familiar sight. A tall, younger boy greeted him.

"Boss, we've been anticipating your arrival!" He was more on the energetic side, with a gleam in his eye and a hint of enthusiasm in his voice. Jaebeom gave him a nod of acknowledgment in response.

"We have lots of work to get done." He replied, walking passed him. He strode into the building, greeted by his workmen and old friends he hadn't seen in years. Three men stood in front of him, smirks plastered on each of their faces. A shorter, more muscular man approached Jaebeom with a wild smile.

"Oh wow! Didn't think you'd get out so soon!" He chuckled and gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder before giving him a quick side hug.

"You're never gonna let him live this down are you, Jackson?" One of the other gentlemen laughed walking up towards the two of them. 

"Of course not, who do you think I am, Mark?" Jackson replied. The third and final man walked over, placing a gentle hand on the Boss' shoulder.

"We're glad to have you back, Jaebeom." A faint smile crossed his lips.

"And I'm content with being here, Jinyoung," Jb responded. They only spoke for a couple of minutes, not having time to catch up on what he had missed. He walked towards his former room. Closing the door, he glanced over to see that everything was exactly how he had left it; the blankets on the bed were ever so slightly disheveled, money was left on the nightstand, and the window still happened to be cracked open. He walked over to his dresser, noticing clothes folded neatly on top of it, presumably put there by one of the maids. It would be very nice to get out of the street clothes he was wearing and into something that was more "his style." He sluggishly removed his clothing provided for him and changed into the black button-up shirt, a pair of impossibly darker dress pants, and complementary sleek black shoes.

Jaebeom stood in front of the floor mirror in the room and fixed himself up. He buttoned the buttons on his shirt and cuffs, and slicked his hair back - now this was more like it. He reached into his closet and pulled out a blazer and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

He strode down a hallway towards their meeting room. Nearly all of his men were waiting for him to arrive. As he opened the door, all eyes laid on him and they bowed as a show of respect. Jaebeom kept his stare ahead of him as he neared the desk at the end of the room. He pulled out the chair and fixed his coat before sitting down.

"Let's resume the business."

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Let's get this bread

Let's get down to business to defeat the Huns - jb

Lol