TARGET

스물 다섯

that song is what they're listening to in the car. this song slaps, and no, i don't take criticism.

___

"I wouldn't be surprised if you guys just said you WERE the Circle instead of some random 6 adults that fight crime,"

The pristine, marbled interior shone despite the navy cartons that lined the walls. That was merely the entrance, the Shack appeared small on the outside since the glossy stairs led down to a posh bunker, finished with cupboards stocked with survival essentials, a fridge, tall file cabinets lining the walls, and more of those boxes.

The trainees marveled at the space, aghast in an astonished daze, prompting Minghao to snap in front of the faces of the dumbfound trainees, causing their pupils to dilate as they regained touch with reality.

Minghao internally cooed at the trainees' cuteness, ushering them to the boxes. They hauled them up the stairs in a uniform line, with Soonyoung loading them into the van.

Jisung, per usual, wasn't doing much work at the head of the filed line, too intrigued by the contents inside the boxes- which slowed down the rate in which he should've passed it on to the next person. With a cursory groan of frustration, Jaemin adopted Jisung's job as the youngest sifted through the sleek hand-gun models.

Reaching his hand deep into the carton, he felt his hand brush against the chilled metal. Grasping at the distinctive object, he pulled out a striking Colt Paterson old-fashioned Revolver from the mass of black handguns.

His breath hitched at the inanimate object, a lump forming in his throat that constricted his breathing.

It's like everything nowadays reminded Jisung of him.

It was the same model that Daesung carried around, buried in his sagging, tattered blue jeans.

"Hyung, everyone has the cool new models, why would you stick with that dumb old gun?"

The elder side-eyed his younger brother, fiddling with the safety trigger of the polished body, "

I dunno kid, it kinda makes me feel like a badass mob boss from those movies Mom and Dad didn't want us to watch," Daesung mustered out a half-hearted, throaty chuckle, his attention never diverting from the revolver,

Jisung cocked his head, overgrown hair sweeping over, "Like James Bond?"

"Nah, he carried a Walther, remember? It was his sidekick that had this badass gun," The elder's chapped lips tugged into a grin, nostalgic as he recalled the monochrome films he used to watch with his little brother in the theater room of their erstwhile home.

They used to sneak away in the dead of night, livening the hours by watching the action-packed films decorated in its vintage tint, the soft sound echoing throughout the hollow halls of the mansion.

"So it's like I'm James Bond and your my sidekick!" the younger jested, hollowing out his cheeks to hide his beaming smile.

Daesung's smile grew, "I guess so kid, I mean..."

"James Bond,"

"Jisung! EARTH TO JISUNG!"

Jisung jolted, caught out of his daze, eyes glassy, breath caught in his lungs-

Jeno snickered, scrunching his nose at the younger blithely:

"Let's go, bring that box with you. Really though I lost you there for a second Sungie,"