“Can’t. I gotta work that day.” Jett stretched his arms out and cracked his neck. “The bar needs me.”

“I’ll go if it doesn’t interfere with my show.” As always, Trace’s afternoon dramas took precedence. 

“I’ll… go?” Feng sounded unsure.

“The hell if I’m going—“ A phone going off cut Jaesung’s sentence short. The all-too-familiar melody of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy coated the room. In the silence, the famous tune turned eerie, an ominous connotation connected to it.

Their boss held a finger up as he picked up the call. Play time was over, it seemed.

While the conversation didn’t last more than a minute, the lighthearted atmosphere surrounding them instantly diminished. Vince flipped his phone shut, the old gadget in his grasp echoing. They all silently watched him as he finished his cigarette. 

“Clean up duty,” said Vince. “Jett, Trace. I need you two to go.”

“You got it.” 

They nodded. No argument seeped from their lips, and no annoyed glances. They belonged to the mafia. Even at the bottom, they still had a job to do, and they took it seriously. If the boss said jump, they’d jump. No questions asked. They surrendered their freedom for a chance to become part of the Maniaco. Every choice had a sacrifice.

Vince rose to leave, stopping at Jaesung’s side. A warm hand found his shoulder and squeezed. “Stop by the diner. It’s overdue.”

Of course it was. That place was famous for not only their shitty food, but the giant loan the owners had taken out to keep the diner running. Just thinking about having to deal with them gave him an immediate headache.

“Jaesung?” The slight irritation the chief gave off made his hair stand on end.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

With that said, their boss walked out. In the background, Jaesung heard Jett following him, asking if he’d see him at the casino later. When Chief opened the door, the rain that pelted the pavement like it was angry had drowned out their voices. For a moment, as that white noise consumed him, the surrounding scenery changed. A dark alley appeared in front of him and it became harder for Jaesung to breathe. It felt like hundreds of needles were being stabbed into his fingertips.

“Jaesung?”

He faintly heard someone call his name, but could not lift his feet.

“Yo, you in there?”

Just as Jaesung was about to reply, said individual slapped the back of his head, eliciting a groan from his lips as he bit the tip of his tongue. “What the fuck, man?”

He turned to come face-to-face with Feng. The stupefied look he gave to Jaesung in return had his hands itching to grab him by the neck.

“You ready to go?” asked Feng.

Confused, Jaesung scratched his neck. “What?”

“I’m going with you.” Feng smiled and wrapped an arm around him. “Let’s go give that couple hell.”