The warehouse loomed, cold steel and shadow swallowing the faint moonlight seeping in from the cracked rooftop panels. Everything about the place reeked of an ambush — rusted metal, silence too heavy, and that one blurred-out sedan parked awkwardly near the corner.
Rin stood behind a crumbling wall panel, one shoulder pressed tight to it, his grip steady on the matte-black pistol in his hand. He was focused, breath regulated, pulse quiet beneath the skin.
Kai, meanwhile, leaned beside him — a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips, his entire posture oozing that infuriating brand of casual nonchalance. Smoke curled from his mouth like a devil exhaling secrets.
Rin shot him a side glance. Kai didn't look remotely bothered. In fact, he looked bored.
"This guy... how does he stay this calm? Does blood just not register to him anymore?"
Rin's attention shifted to the car again. Something about the tinted windows screamed wrong.
"There's one guy in the car, but the rest must be inside already. No movement. No sudden backup. Not a trap… more like a checkpoint."
And then — Rin acted.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The sharp retorts of his pistol shattered the quiet. Three bullets — clean, centered — punched into the driver-side glass. The figure inside flinched, arm jerking forward with a glint of silver.
Too late.
Kai moved like a viper — one hand snapping out, smashing the window, and then yanking the man clean through it with a grotesque crack of limbs and squealing metal.
The man barely got a scream out. Blood smeared across the hood. Kai didn't even flinch.
"Nope. Not watching him do that again."
"I swear to god if I see him tear off someone's jaw with his bare hands like last time—"
Rin turned his head away sharply, jaw clenched. Then, of course, the bastard did what he always did — Kai wiped his bloody hand on Rin's shirt, like he was a living napkin.
"Let's go meet Dragunov," Kai said, grinning as he walked off.
Rin muttered under his breath, "Piece of shit…", and followed.
They entered the warehouse proper. Dim lights flickered above, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Stacked crates lined the sides like silent observers. And at the far end, lounging like a smug king on a steel chair surrounded by a semi-circle of well-dressed thugs — Morgan.
His hair was slicked back, salt-and-pepper with just enough silver to demand respect. A scar ran from his jaw to just below his right eye — and his presence? Commanding. Dangerous. Familiar.
"Morgan. The head honcho of the Dragunovs."
"He doesn't even flinch when we walk in. He was expecting Tsar. Not us. And he's too calm for a man staring down two armed agents."
"You're late," Morgan muttered, adjusting the cuffs of his bespoke coat.
Kai smirked, wordlessly lighting another cigarette like they were here for coffee, not confrontation.
"They know each other."
"Of course they do. They're both tangled in Russia's underworld. This is just another chess match."
Morgan gave a long look at Kai, then said, "So… a commotion at the Romanov manor last night. I was doubtful when I heard it was your handiwork."
Kai just shrugged. "What can I say? I was bored. Thought I'd spice up their wine-tasting party."
"How reckless of you." Morgan's voice was cool, but his fingers tapped once against the armrest — a tic betraying annoyance.
"Haven't I always been known to be daring?" Kai replied, that grin never leaving his lips.
"His eyes just now — they said it clearly: 'Why you? Why you of all people?'"
Rin stepped forward.
Enough games.
"That's enough chit-chat. Let's get to the real reason we're here."
"Where's Persephone?"
Morgan's brows twitched. "What are you talking about?" he asked with a wide grin that didn't reach his eyes.
Rin cocked his head. His tone sharpened like a blade. "Or should I say… Scythe-9."
The smile died on Morgan's face. Just for a moment — just long enough to know Rin hit the mark.
"Gotcha, bitch."
"I have a few questions for you regarding that weapon," Rin continued calmly.
Morgan leaned forward, tapping the table lightly with one gloved finger. "So the rat walks right into the trap it set for others. Brave or just stupid? You really think I'm going to hand you answers wrapped in a bow?"
Rin didn't flinch. He just looked at Morgan with cold, flat eyes.
"Mhm... then you leave me with no choice. if simply talking won't work, let's get a little more physical, shall we?"
"If I can't make him talk... I'll make him bleed the truth."
And beside him, Kai chuckled low — a sick sort of amusement gleaming in his eye as he watched Rin drop the mask and let the wolf out.
POW. POW.
The first shots cracked through the silence like lightning through dry air.
Rin didn't hesitate — he fired two rounds directly at the men nearest to Morgan's chair. One collapsed instantly; the other dove to the side, shouting in Russian.
And then—chaos.
Bullets exploded around him, ricocheting off steel beams and crates. The room became a flurry of muzzle flashes, shouting, and the metallic smell of blood and oil. Rin moved fast, body twisting, instincts cutting sharper than the rounds flying toward him.
He dove behind a stack of crates, reached into his belt, pulled a silver cylinder.
PSSHHHHT.
Tear gas hissed into the air, thick white clouds blooming across the warehouse. Screams and coughs followed.
Visibility: gone.
But Rin was already ahead — he pulled out the sleek, matte-black SR Scanner Glasses, slipped them over his eyes. The world became outlines — bodies in red-orange silhouettes, highlighted through the gas.
"I can't see Kai."
"But whatever. If he's dead, I'll resurrect him just to kill him myself."
With clinical precision, Rin aimed and fired — taking down one, two, three men with single shots to the legs or shoulders. Never fatal. Not yet.
Then—he saw it.
The chair. Morgan's chair. Empty.
"Shit. Where did he—"
Too late.
From behind, a flash of steel gleamed.
SLASH.
Rin barely twisted in time, but not fast enough — the knife sliced across his lower ribs. A shallow but clean cut. Pain bloomed hot across his side.
"Tch—!" he hissed, stumbling back, pressing a hand to the blood soaking into his shirt.
"He's fast. But reckless. He's not trying to kill me yet. Just scare."
"Unfortunately, I'm immune to fear."
He spun around just as Morgan lunged forward with the blade again — and dodged low, sliding beneath his arm, bringing up his gun—
BANG.
Morgan screamed, his leg buckling as the bullet shattered bone just above the knee.
"AAARRRGHH—!"
The man collapsed with a howl, but Rin didn't let up — he kicked the blade from Morgan's hand and stood over him, gun still aimed.
A voice cut through the fading smoke behind him.
"Well, that was risky, Rin…" came Kai, finally emerging from the hazy fog like a damn model out of a bloodstained magazine spread.
His arms were crossed, blood dripping from his knuckles. Three of Morgan's men were sprawled unconscious or twitching behind him.
Kai's eyes flicked to Rin's exposed ribs.
"…you could've at least taken your shirt off after the fight. You're bleeding and stripping? Someone might think you're trying to seduce me." he said with a smirk, voice low, teasing.
Rin rolled his eyes, already unbuttoning his coat with a huff.
"Thanks for your concern, Kai," he muttered, stripping it off and dropping it on the floor. His undershirt — a compression top — was soaked around the wound. He pulled it up halfway to inspect the damage.
Kai walked forward, cracking his knuckles casually. "Lucky it wasn't deep," he said, then without asking, grabbed Rin's ruined outer shirt and tore a strip from it with one firm pull.
He stepped in close.
Too close.
Kai wrapped the makeshift bandage tight around Rin's ribs. His hands were warm. Confident. Possessive.
"This help would've been greatly appreciated about five minutes ago." Rin thought, watching Kai's smirk never fade.
"Wow, how nice of you, Kai." Rin said sarcastically, one hand resting on Kai's shoulder, steadying himself.
"Don't mention it," Kai said smoothly, his hands still wrapped around Rin's waist, fingers brushing the edge of skin beneath the fabric as if this was an intimate moment — not battlefield first aid.
"He's always touching like he owns me. Like he's staking a claim."
"But the bastard's good at acting casual. Too good."
Rin finally stepped back, exhaling, pulling his shirt down over the bandage. He rolled his shoulders, testing his range of motion.
"Alright. I'm good now."
He turned from Kai and walked straight toward Morgan — who was crawling backward, blood pooling beneath his ruined leg.
Rin grabbed him by the collar, yanked him up like dead weight, and slammed him into the same metal chair. The cuffs clicked shut a second later, snapping around Morgan's wrists tight.
"Let's try this again," Rin said coldly, his breath low, eyes narrowing like a predator adjusting the scope.
Kai was already lighting another cigarette, standing behind Rin like a silent devil — watching, amused, and waiting for the show to begin.
"We're not here to talk anymore."
"We're here to dismantle gods."
Morgan's breath came in shallow, panicked bursts, chest heaving as he sat tied to the chair, blood leaking from his busted lip. Sweat dripped from his brow, matting his hair to his face. But despite everything — the bruises, the blood, the shattered nose — he tried to look defiant. Tried.
"You think this would make me talk?" Morgan rasped, spitting a bloody smile.
Rin didn't even flinch.
Instead, he let go of Morgan's hair with a slow, almost casual indifference. Like he'd just lost interest in a toy. His gaze swept the room. His fingers flexed and unflexed behind his back. Then—he saw it.
A rusted metal bowl.
Filled with long, oxidized nails. Maybe three inches each. Old. Sharp.
Rin's lips curled. Not in humor. Not in pity.
But in something darker.
He walked over and dipped his gloved hand into the bowl — fistful of nails clinking like bones in a crypt — then returned, tossing one lazily in the air before catching it.
Morgan's eyes followed every movement.
Just a glint of fear now. Barely visible — but there.
"Let's see," Rin muttered.
He yanked Morgan's head back again — this time with less ceremony — and shoved three nails into the man's mouth, pushing them hard against his gums and tongue. Morgan gurgled in protest.
"Open up."
"No? Cute."
Rin slapped a wide strip of black tape across Morgan's mouth, locking the nails in.
"Don't need him talking yet. Just need him afraid of what happens when he doesn't."
Then Rin began to pace in a slow, perfect circle around the chair. His silhouette moved through the dim warehouse lights like a ghost made of wire and wrath.
"So... a Japanese technician will be arriving tomorrow to fix Scythe-9, correct?" Rin asked conversationally, like he was asking about the weather.
"Where can we find them?"
Morgan said nothing, breathing hard through his nose.
Rin stopped behind him. Silence.
CRACK.
Rin's fist landed like a hammer across Morgan's jaw. Blood sprayed from his mouth beneath the tape. He jerked violently in the chair.
"Feel like talking now, Morgan?" Rin whispered, grabbing his face in a crushing grip, his fingers digging into bruised skin.
Morgan shook his head furiously, nails clicking inside his mouth.
Bad answer.
CRACK. CRACK. THUD.
Three more punches. One to the eye. One to the ribs. One — the final one — to his temple.
Morgan slumped, barely upright. His eye was swelling shut. Blood smeared down his chin, soaking into his shirt. His breathing became shallow, wet.
And still — he chuckled.
A low, broken, mockery of laughter.
Rin took a slow breath.
"Stubborn bastard. Fine."
He crouched down and reached for the blade at his thigh holster — the smaller one — his favorite. Perfect balance. Razor-thin.
He twirled it slowly between his fingers.
His voice dropped low. Controlled. Dead calm.
"They say Native American warriors once proved their courage not by surviving — but by making others die in the most agonizing ways imaginable..."
Kai, who had been leaning casually against a column behind them, arched a brow and tilted his head. He took out a cigarette but didn't light it — too entertained.
Rin kept talking.
"It wasn't about killing. That's easy. Quick. Anyone can shoot a man. But what they did... was personal. They didn't kill you until you stopped being a person. Until you were just… meat."
His tone didn't change as he walked behind Morgan, blade now resting against the side of the man's cheek, not cutting — yet.
"They would scalp you alive. Strip the skin from your head inch by inch while your heart still beat. And while you screamed? They'd look into your eyes. Not out of cruelty. Not even hate. But to see when exactly your soul left."
Morgan began trembling violently.
"Because after a certain point... you don't just lose blood. You lose everything. Language. Memory. Identity. Who you were becomes... obsolete."
Rin leaned in, lips close to Morgan's ear.
"And you wonder—what kind of person would do that to someone?"
Then he smiled.
"The real question is: what kind of person learns to enjoy it?"
That's when Morgan broke.
The muffled "AAACCKK!!" ripped from behind the tape, pure panic in his eyes. His body thrashed violently in the chair — like he could run through steel if he just willed it hard enough.
Rin exhaled softly, enjoying the full-body tremor of fear ripple through Morgan.
Kai clapped. Once. Slow. Amused.
"Bravo." he said, smirking. "Gave me chills. You should do bedtime stories."
Rin ignored him. He yanked the tape off in one swift pull — some of Morgan's lip skin came with it.
"Let's try again."
His voice dropped, cold as ice.
"Who is the technician… and where are they headed?"
Morgan sobbed.
"Y-You… You're fucking insane—"
"Correct," Rin said smoothly, driving the knife down into the armrest beside Morgan's hand — the blade sticking deep into the wood just millimeters from his pinky finger.
"Now talk."
Morgan didn't need more convincing.
The warehouse door groaned open as Rin and Kai stepped out into the bitter cold. The sky had darkened with thick gray clouds, and fat snowflakes were falling steadily, dancing in the air like little ghosts. The wind bit at their cheeks, howling softly like a distant warning.
Rin blinked up at the snow for a second, letting the flakes melt on his lashes.
His hands were slick with dried blood, and he absently wiped them off on the inside of his long black winter coat—already stained near the hem.
"He's going to have nightmares for weeks," Rin muttered dryly, rolling his stiff shoulders as he stretched, a quiet crack escaping his spine.
His body felt cold. But inside? Still burning.
"Did I go too far? No. He was playing a game he couldn't win. Still… the way his eyes cracked when I brought up scalping—yeah. He broke. Good."
Behind him, Kai let out a low whistle.
"Wasn't expecting that," Kai said, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it with fingers that didn't tremble—though they probably should've.
He exhaled the smoke slowly, eyes fixed on Rin like he was some kind of artwork painted in blood.
"Were you really gonna skin him?" Kai asked, voice tinged with something between awe and arousal.
"'Cause I've got to admit, babe—"
His grin widened, filthy and unrepentant.
"—that was insanely sexy. The way you talked about it, your voice all calm and icy? Gave me actual goosebumps. I'm still hard from it. Seriously. See?"
Kai shamelessly adjusted himself through his pants, cocky grin not fading for a second.
Rin didn't even blink.
Instead, he turned to him slowly—eyes like glacier glass, mouth set in a flat, unreadable line. His boots crunched in the snow as he stepped forward until they were toe-to-toe.
"You're disgusting," Rin said flatly, his tone surgical. But then—he moved.
In one swift motion, Rin grabbed Kai by the collar, yanking him forward until their faces were mere inches apart. Their breath mingled in the cold, fogging up between them in little white clouds.
Kai's smirk twitched. Whether it was anticipation or thrill, it was hard to tell.
Rin's hand tightened just a little on the collar, fabric scrunching under his fingers.
"Next time," Rin said slowly, "tell me right away if you're into getting skinned. I'd be more than happy to start with your head."
His voice was low and measured, almost sensual in its deadliness.
Kai's eyes lit up like someone had turned on a switch.
He leaned in, letting Rin hold him like prey that wanted to be hunted.
"Promise?" he whispered, breath ghosting over Rin's lips. "You could start with the scalp and work your way down. I'd be your masterpiece."
Rin rolled his eyes, releasing Kai with a little shove that sent the man stumbling back half a step. He didn't even look back as he turned toward the snow-covered car parked by the gate.
"He'll never stop testing me. Pushing boundaries like a dog that doesn't care if it gets kicked—just wants attention. Goddamn parasite."
Still, Rin could feel Kai's gaze burning into his back, hot and obsessive.
And, despite himself, Rin sighed.
"And that parasite? Is my only ally in this hellhole."
The snow had started to slow by the time they reached the car, flakes melting against the warm metal hood. Rin leaned against it briefly, his breath still steady despite the chaos they'd left behind.
He glanced at his blood-speckled gloves, flexing his fingers. The wind pulled at the loose strands of his hair, but he didn't notice.
"According to the information I squeezed out of Morgan," Rin thought, eyes narrowing as he replayed the bloodied interrogation in his head, "Ao Takeda—the Japanese technician—will be getting on the Trans-Siberian Railway disguised as an Indian tourist."
He opened the car door slowly, the old hinges creaking. Sliding into the passenger seat, he pulled up a holoscreen from his wristband and began inputting a route—Trans-Siberian checkpoints, passenger manifest estimates, temperature readings, time stamps.
Kai sauntered in on the driver's side a minute later, tossing a cigarette out before settling in.
"You look like you're mapping out a war," Kai muttered, glancing at the interface Rin was working on. "Kinda hot."
Rin ignored him.
"Not even Morgan knew the exact moment or method the Romanovs will use to intercept Takeda. Hell—he didn't even know if they'll make contact before Moscow. That's the problem."
He minimized the map and stared out through the windshield, eyes scanning the ice-dusted road ahead like he was already seeing through the fog of days to come.
"There are too many unknowns. Too many gaps in intel. And yet..."
Rin slowly exhaled, fog blooming on the glass.
"...It doesn't matter. We don't need to catch the Romanovs making a move. We just need to follow Ao Takeda. Sooner or later, he'll lead us straight to Scythe-9."
His jaw tightened.
"And when that happens... it ends. All of it."
Kai's fingers were drumming on the steering wheel lazily, glancing sideways.
"What's the plan, Commander?" he asked mockingly, using that nickname Rin hated—probably on purpose.
Rin didn't respond for a second. Then, very softly:
"We follow Takeda."
"And then?" Kai grinned. "You gonna interrogate him with nails too, or are you saving that for foreplay?"
"Depends on how useful he is." Rin looked back at Kai with a cold, unimpressed stare. "Though I doubt he'd survive a second under your version of foreplay."
Kai laughed.
"Fair. He's no me."
"No," Rin said, slipping his glove off and checking the fresh wrap around his rib, blood seeping lightly through the bandage. "You're worse."
The car growled to life, headlights cutting through the dusk.
They had a train to catch.
The rhythmic clatter of the train against the tracks should have been soothing. A steady, predictable sound, something Rin could lose himself in as he settled into the thin mattress of his sleeper berth. But instead of the quiet hum of travel, the compartment was filled with something far less tolerable.
"Nghh… haah… yess… more…"
Rin's eye twitched.
The voice was breathy, desperate, and—most infuriatingly—coming from the berth directly beside his. The thin partition between them did nothing to muffle the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the creak of the bed frame, or the low, satisfied growl of none other than Kai.
Of course.
Rin exhaled through his nose, fingers tightening around the edge of his blanket. He had known the moment he boarded that sharing a compartment with him would be a trial. Kai was chaos incarnate, a man who treated social norms as mere suggestions. But even Rin hadn't anticipated this level of audacity.
"Let's ignore them," he told himself, turning onto his side and pressing a pillow over his ear. "Ignore them. I shouldn't be surprised to see an unhinged lunatic doing crazy stuff. It's Kai. This is baseline behavior for him."
He shut his eyes, forcing his breathing to steady. Sleep had never eluded him before—Rin prided himself on discipline, on control. He refused to let something as trivial as Kai's lack of shame ruin that.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star…" he recited in his mind, clinging to the childish rhyme as a desperate anchor. "How I wonder what you—"
"NNNGHHH—AAAHHH!"
Rin's eyes flew open.
The omega's cry was loud, shameless, and impossible to tune out. The bed rattled violently, the entire compartment seeming to shake with the force of Kai's thrusts. Rin sat up abruptly, his jaw clenched.
This was ridiculous.
He swung his legs over the side of the berth and turned, arms crossed, to face the spectacle head-on. If they were going to deny him sleep, then fine. He'd observe. He'd analyze. And maybe, if he was lucky, his unimpressed glare would finally shame them into silence.
Kai, ever perceptive, noticed him immediately. Their eyes met—Rin's flat and disapproving, Kai's dark with amusement. And then, just to spite him, Kai smirked and picked up his pace.
Rin didn't flinch. But internally, his thoughts were a storm of disbelief.
"It's ridiculously big," he noted clinically, watching as the omega took every inch without hesitation. "How the hell is he managing that? The sheer physics of it defy logic. I'd have been dead by now."
Kai's movements grew more erratic, his usual composed demeanor fracturing under the weight of pleasure. His breath came in rough gasps, his muscles taut, his expression twisting into something raw and uncontrolled.
Rin arched a brow.
"Interesting. He's always so calm, so infuriatingly collected. But even that face breaks down in the heat of the moment."
A choked sob from the omega snapped his attention back up. The poor guy was trembling, his entire body taut like a bowstring.
"Oh my God—I'm gonna—I'm gonna—ngggghhh—!"
Then, at the last second, Kai pulled out.
Rin's brain short-circuited.
"JESUS—!"