A/N:
Suspiciously, I had some sort of an updating schedule. I have no idea where that went.
02: 'WHERE COULD THE LITTLE BRIDE GO'
AKA THE TIME THEY ESCAPE DUTIFULLY
UNLIKE HIS PARTNER, Minwoo liked to be well versed and sure of his every move. Calculations upon calculations of movements and decisions, all based on the best possible outcome for him. Usually meant that he was breathing and alive as much as possible, no matter the percentage of survival. Though he usually preferred itif all his limbs were intact.
But with a job where people are chasing you with knives and making it rain with bullets enough to take down an entire city - it's not really very realistic.
Minwoo scanned the surroundings before he hitched himself in the shadows, blending into the void. He listened intently, closing his eyes and matched the set of familiar movement to his unusual partner.
So far into the chaos of the open lobby, running down from all those stairs and running away from thugs when he spotted his friend in a sea of said angry thugs.
At a familiarity - and lack of anyone else - he thrusted a hand out and pulled. Grayson was used to this, of course, even the scolding that came after that he wasn't shocked, nor fought as he was harshly shoved into the shadows with the man of darkness himself.
"Jia er you fucking idiot," Minwoo growled, maintaining his low voice.
Grayson grinned. "I love it when you call my real name."
"I'm pretty sure that's not your real name." Minwoo checked his watch over the light and sighed. Fifteen minutes late. Of course. "No one in their right mind would actually put their real name in a file that can be stored as bait after getting caught."
"So Minwoo's not your real name?"
"We will not have this conversation again, Mr. Jerome Huan." Minwoo pursed his lips and right on time, the platoon of angry mob men with their shouts of swearing and loose alcohol came thrashing out of the same direction Grayson ran from.
But this time they stopped for several seconds, admitting the difficulty of several hallways, and grunted as they all separated in the three main exits.
As the steps echoed faintly, Grayson nodded to nothing, cracked his knuckles and led the way into the fourth, obscure exit.
Of course if you were plied with alcohol in itself, you could probably still have the mind to check everywhere, or at least remember the outline of the building you used for your murdering-bride schemes.
But Minwoo took it a case higher, noting that not a lot could actually get drunk in a wedding, even a fake one, and made sure that there was a dose of something very special - created by Park Minwoo - in every drink served at that reception.
"But there are some people who don't drink." Grayson raised a fine eyebrow and a very good point when this plan was discussed. Minwoo was at his chemist table, vials of liquids and squashed particles lost to Grayson, all coiling into a smoky mess of scents that frankly burnt off a few of Grayson's nostrils and eyebrows.
"Fair point. It won't just be in the drinks. It'll be served everywhere."
So came the point of posing as major distributors for the catering staff, making sure that the food tainted with Minwoo's magic potions were only served at the particular wedding.
They didn't want another info sheet to knock off the points they were trying to get. And civilians ingested in poison not even on the line of fire is a good way to knock off a couple of points or just straight out not even get any points.
As they pass through the staff's usual point of entry and exit from the garage to the kitchens without being seen by guests, a little corner between the canvas and frame - red curtain between the front and back of a play, they didn't slow their pace until Minwoo was opening one of the metal doors that contained their getaway car.
Grayson had paused a couple of steps back in front of a set of dumb waiters.
"Eenie meanie miney moe, where could the little bride go?" His face was scrunched up in a way that made Minwoo pause in his movements.
With a quiet, deadly voice, "You don't remember where you put the bride in?"
"Well, I remember I put her in the dumb waiter."
Through snapped teeth, "you don't remember which dumb waiter?"
Grayson turned to him with a grin. "Nope."
Minwoo closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and imagined throwing his cane directly into Grayson's left eye socket, popping out his entire eyeball in the proces.
"Ooh, maybe this one's it."
Minwoo cracked one eye open and the relief swept through him when it did contain the passed out bride. Grayson gingerly took her in his arms, apologizing for touching her, and grinned at him, raising her in his arms as if to say, 'look dad, I got her for you'.
If this was a serial killing father and son moment, maybe it would be touching.
But Minwoo and Grayson aren't that far in age, and honestly, he's an idiot with issues and Minwoo is issues with a mouth and a walking cane.
They were psychologically compatible only at certain points.
"Let's just go."
He turned back to the metal gate and pressed an automatic button out of his jacket. As it rose, it showed them a truck that proclaimed it was for Delilah's Flower Boutique - for every special occasion, Delilah will be here! Waiting!
... and a bunch of mob men passed out around it. It was like a scene from one of those action movies after the big guy had gone through every silly mob that ever attempted to gang up on someone. Only this was the deleted scene, and there was at least twelve different guys in twelve different poses.
"The hell?" Grayson halted in his steps, while Minwoo casually stepped around them easily enough... or not really since he deliberately used one dead mob guy as a stool to raise himself over the passenger seat without as much as a thank you.
As Minwoo motioned for him to get in, you imbecile, Grayson was more careful walking around the bodies and stashing poor Miss Bae inside the back before swinging into the driver's seat.
As he buckled his belt, Grayson turned to him, key mid-way through the ignition. He pointed to the key to his partner instead.
"You told me it would only make them groggy. We can't have dead gangsters, Minwoo."
Minwoo snorted. "Oh now you care for dirty human lives?"
Grayson rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure Agent Kim wants them alive and breathing. Dead and no breathing will most likely end us with a few knocked off points. The guy cares about every person on this earth but us, and unfortunately that includes gangsters."
Minwoo settled his cane between his legs, rolling his eyes. "They're not dead. Just passed out."
At Grayson's disbelief raised eyebrow, Minwoo sighed. "I know not to knock off points, you ingrate. I'm very careful with my dosage. Besides, it's just another backup just in case you get shot while running," he raised one finger, "or are far too slow to balance your own body," another finger, "or can't even shove chloroform under the bride's nose. We have to count every step in case something failed."
Calculations upon calculations. Nets upon nets to catch the ball just in case one net breaks. Assurance of making sure he lives.
Park Minwoo, everyone.
Grayson was quiet for a moment, absorbing that in.
About a second, Minwoo snapped, "Grayson."
He dutifully started the engine and backed up, feeling at least one body went under the wheel. With a grin as they sped through the highway undetected, just a couple of drivers in suits and a passed out bride on the back instead of flowers, Grayson said, "would you believe I didn't have to use the chloroform on her and she just fell for my ungodly good looks?"
"I'd rather believe she fell down and hit her head while you were trying to escort her to the dumb waiter for her safety."
Grayson pouted.
"You're mean."