Superheroes - 슈퍼 히어로 | BTS Fanfiction | Yoonmin

| Chapter 18 | 'Shall I leave a calling card?'

A/N: And yes, I had to incorporate 'syub' into this somehow.

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A few days later, Jimin walked back home after another late meeting, Yoongi once again accompanying him at the assistance of his appas, who Jimin had not told about his suspicions concerning the aquarette. He didn't want to involve them in something so dangerous. In fact, he hardly knew what he could do about it himself, as Zangling hadn't visited since his overstress episode almost a week ago.

Yoongi left him at the front door and walked away, sending him a piercing look as he left. Jimin watched him walk away until he was out of sight, keeping his eyes on the last spot Yoongi had been in for a few minutes.

Satisfied that he was gone, Jimin turned around to walk inside. Even as he unlocked the door and turned the knob, he knew something was off. He didn't stop though, opening the door the full way. The hallway was strangely hollow, as though someone had walked through it before, purposely trying not to move anything as they went.

He stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind him, but not locking it. The house was dim, almost dark, in the evening, so he turned the light on, knowing that whoever was inside would have heard him when he opened the door.

The house shifted quietly around him on its supports, amplifying the uneasy vibrations that couldn't be felt but seemed to fill the air anyway. He gulped quietly and made quietly went to the lounge room. It might have entrances on all sides, meaning that he could be approached from all directions, but it also meant the most escape routes.

Jimin knew his instincts had been right as soon as he spotted the colourfully dressed person in the middle of the room. They turned around, a malicious grin on their face. He couldn't see any other part of their face, but the intentions of the strange person felt all too clear.

"So you're the one the Zangling is so interested in," she hissed, her neon green and silver suit sparkling under the light cast by the small chandelier above.

She stalked forward, each step fluid and graceful in a way that made terror course through him. Her hand darted towards his face suddenly. Something hard scraped his cheek, followed by the familiar burn of a graze or cut.

He watched with horrified fascination as she raised her fingers in front of him, blood dripping off the nail of her forefinger. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice small, but steady. He willed himself to stop shivering and resolutely forced himself not to lean backwards.

Her grin widened. "Ooooh, a brave one? I love breaking them. They're so quick to give in despite their... tough exterior," she spat delightedly. "How exciting!"

Jimin pushed her hand away from him. "I don't know who you are, but I didn't do anything to antagonise you. Why are you doing this?" he asked. He resisted the urge to hold his cheek or wipe away the blood that was now dripping down his neck and towards his short collar, lest he reveal how much his hands were shaking.

The woman cackled, wiping her finer on his shirt delicately, right in the centre of his chest. "If you must know," she said with a mocking sigh.

"I'm Bastimae. You might know me."

She scraped a fingernail along his other cheek gently, tilting her head. He didn't know whether it was in thought, or if she was waiting for him to respond, but she probably didn't need to. Even he felt the blood draining from his face.

Bastimae, famously known as Zangling's archenemy, was an infamous criminal all over South Korea and the world. She tended to wreak havoc in the country, but she sometimes went overseas when the military and Superhero Union Bureau of Korea, known as SYUB-K, got too close to catching her.

'She's back,' he thought, his heart rate turning from a steady jog to a flat out sprint. 'And she's after... me?'

The woman laughed, as though she could read his thoughts - luckily, he knew she couldn't - and stalked around him. Her finger dragged across his cheek as she went, leaving no mark, though he knew he would feel its path for weeks.

"What do you think I should do, Park Jimin? Shall I leave a calling card?" she murmured, stopping behind him. Jimin shifted uncomfortably when her arms latched onto his shoulders and kept his mouth firmly shut. Being in the same room as her made him uneasy, but it was nothing compared to how she was touching him. It made him feel dirty and repulsed. Despite that, he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of a response.

After a few minutes of thought, she seemed to come to a decision. "Yes, I think I will leave a calling card." She giggled eagerly, covering her mouth with one hand as though it would give her the appearance of restraint. "What a fun game!"

Her hand shot forward twice, leaving another two marks on his cheek. He winced. "Awe, you're so cute," she cooed mockingly, grabbing both his cheeks and pulling. His fist clenched automatically as pain coursed through his cheek and the cuts burned.

Finally, she stepped back, an unsettling smile on her face. "Tell Zangling I said hello~" she chirped.

Jimin didn't respond. Instead, he watched blankly as she leapt out the window, idly wondering how many cups of coffee she'd had. For almost twenty minutes, he stood there, blood slowly dripping from his cuts, down his face and down his neck, only stopped by his white collared shirt.