Chapter 3 — The Price of Permission
——
"Yo."
Kun sat on the apartment floor, legs crossed, slurping noodles straight from the pot like a man who'd accepted all five stages of poverty.
"You look like shit," he muttered mid-chew, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
Suho didn't respond.
He walked straight to the table, reached into his jacket—
—and dropped a card onto the wood.
Clink.
Metal on metal. Silver sigil flashing in the low light.
Kun blinked.
"…The hell's this?"
He picked it up, the card surprisingly heavy.
Black steel, smooth edges. Faint glowing text pulsing like a heartbeat.
——
COUNTERS ACADEMY
Division: Rookie Recruitment
——
"Wait—wait, seriously? This is real?" Kun said. "I thought you'd tear it in half or feed it to a stray cat or something."
Suho's silence stretched long and sharp.
Kun sighed, setting the pot down with a clatter.
His voice dropped.
"Look… if you wanna go… I'm in."
He gestured to the room around them—cracked walls, flickering light, ramen smell that never fully left.
"This place? This life? It's fucked, bro. Merc gigs pay in scrap and stress, and we owe like five months' worth of ramen—"
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The door jumped like it got shot.
"OI, LITTLE SHITS!"
The voice outside was a war horn dipped in gravel and alcohol.
"You got two days! If I don't see rent, I'm feeding you both to my Category-3 pet!"
Kun flinched.
"…Damn. She upgraded the threat tier."
He glanced at the door.
"Category-3… Wasn't that the mutated hound with four legs and zero chill?"
Suho said nothing.
Still stone-faced.
"I'm serious, man," Kun said. "This city's insane. We're not gonna make it out of here unless we change something."
Suho finally spoke, voice quiet.
"He knew everything about us."
Kun paused mid-reach.
"Huh? Who?"
"The recruiter. He knew our names. Yours too."
Kun's eyes narrowed.
"No way. We're ghosts. Even our fake IDs are scared of us."
A long beat passed.
Then Kun leaned back against the wall, tapping the edge of the card on his knee.
"Guess we need to ask Ray. Our old boss might know something."
Suho nodded once.
"We go at night."
——
The city didn't sleep.
It just hallucinated louder after midnight.
Smog hung low, mixing with neon haze as Kun and Suho made their way through the underbelly of District 9. Streetlights flickered overhead—half-burnt, half-hacked, all useless. Each corner buzzed with a different flavor of danger.
A half-built android sat slumped on the curb, eyes glowing blue, whispering broken pickup lines to no one. Two kids traded contraband chips beneath a sign that said "FEELINGS SOLD HERE" in cracked holo-font.
Kun kicked a bottle out of the way and pulled his hood higher.
"Man, this district never changes," he muttered. "Smells like piss, dreams, and fried regrets."
Suho didn't laugh.
Didn't have to.
"You ever think we're just walking in circles?" Kun asked.
"That no matter how far we go, we're just gonna rot in the same gutters?"
"All the time," Suho replied.
They passed a wall covered in old wanted posters—faces long dead or forgotten. One had Kun's eyes. Another looked like Suho before the quiet broke him.
Then they turned a corner.
And stopped.
There it was.
Momoka's. Ray's heavily fortified base of operations.
The building loomed like a neon shrine to chaos—pink light pulsing, holograms glitching across velvet signage.
Heavily guarded. Two mercs at the entrance, eyes cold behind reinforced visors. Smart rifles across their chests. One tracked Kun lazily with a motion sensor.
Girls leaned against the rails above—smoking, laughing, watching. Some armored, some half-dressed, all dangerous. You didn't survive here unless you could seduce or shoot.
Kun let out a low whistle.
"Well damn. Our old man really upgraded."
Suho's eyes narrowed.
"This isn't just a brothel anymore."
Kun stepped forward, voice dropping.
"Nope. This is a fortress."
He smirked.
"A fortress of girls."
——
As Kun and Suho approached the front entrance, one of the girls peeled away from the wall—black heels clicking against the ground, lips curled in a lazy smirk.
"You here to play…" she purred, eyes flicking over Kun, "or pay your old man a visit?"
Suho didn't blink.
"We're here to see Ray."
The girl tilted her head, fake innocence dripping off her voice.
"Mmm, but your brother here looks a little excited..."
Kun raised a brow but didn't argue.
"Let him be," Suho said, already stepping forward.
The guards exchanged a glance, then nodded.
One waved them through without a word.
They passed the velvet curtain and stepped inside.
Heat hit them first—dense and low, mixed with perfume, smoke, and something sharp underneath.
The scent of sweat and something synthetic.
Girls laughed through the walls. Moans curled with synth beats blaring from hidden speakers. Lights flickered in broken rhythm—red, blue, red, white, glitch.
The floor pulsed faintly with the bass.
"This place's different than before," Kun muttered, eyes scanning the interior as a brothel worker passed by, brushing his arm with a smile too perfect to be real.
"Seems like our old man's business is doing better," Suho said, voice dry.
They moved through the haze, weaving between couches, low tables, and lounge chairs piled with bodies—some moving, some barely breathing.
No one looked twice.
They reached the back stairwell—tucked behind an exit sign that flickered like it was choking.
The stairs creaked under their boots as they climbed.
Each step carried the sound of a place that hadn't stopped humming in years.
The second floor was quieter—but only just.
Doors lined both sides. Some open, some shut. Laughter behind one. Crying behind another. One room had light flickering under the door like a rave trapped in a coffin.
At the end of the hall: a steel-reinforced door, massive, battered, and lined with warning glyphs—etched in faded silver, humming faintly with locked circuitry and something older.
One looked like a broken gear.
Another pulsed in a pattern that gave Kun a headache just staring at it.
Void-laced security, maybe. Or just something Ray picked up on one of his worse days.
"The hell's with the arcane runes?" Kun muttered.
Suho didn't answer.
Just stared at the door.
Their old man.
Their fixer.
Their fence.
Sometimes their boss.
Sometimes their only family.
Kun stopped in front of it.
Stared for a second.
"You knock or me?"
——
Suho didn't answer.
So Kun stepped forward and knocked.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
A muffled voice came through.
"Get in."
They entered.
Ray's room was heavy with heat and perfume. Two guards flanked the corners like statues. Two girls lounged on the couch—barely dressed, half-bored, and fully armed.
At the center of it all sat Ray—shirt half-unbuttoned, legs kicked up on the table, a half-empty bottle of vodka in one hand and a lit cigar in the other.
He grinned the moment he saw them.
"Ahhh, my boys! Finally remember who your old man is, huh?"
He took a swig.
"So? What do you want? I'm guessing it ain't just to say hi."
"We need to ask you something," Suho said.
Ray gestured lazily with the bottle.
"Shoot."
"There was a contractor. He knew about us. Our names, too."
Ray's smile thinned.
"Administration?"
"Yeah."
He exhaled through his teeth.
"Then it's not surprising. Admin's got their noses in every dirty file. They probably know what color socks you wore in kindergarten."
Kun stepped in.
"Yo Ray, we also wanted to ask permission."
Ray raised an eyebrow.
"Permission? Shit—what, you gonna put a ring on some girl now?"
He barked a laugh.
"You know how it is in the slums—'Just insert it, and she's yours,' right?"
Another laugh. One of the girls on the couch rolled her eyes.
Just then, a server girl entered—carrying fresh drinks on a tray.
She was younger. New. Too clean for this place.
She set the bottles down in front of Ray, nodded, and left without a word.
Kun watched her leave.
"Damn… she must be new."
Ray didn't miss the glance but ignored it.
"So. What's the real permission about?"
Kun didn't hesitate.
"We want into COUNTERS Academy."
Ray blinked. Then laughed again.
"What? You boys wanna go back to school now?"
Kun leaned on the edge of the table.
"We're done out here, Ray. Merc gigs don't pay anymore. Not like they used to."
Ray nodded, sighing.
"You're right. Even mercs work with Admin now. Hell, including me."
Suho's eyes narrowed.
"You work for them?"
"Had to," Ray said. "The jobs dried up. Lost a lot of men recently."
Kun's expression darkened.
"What happened?"
Ray sipped slow. Voice dropped.
"Assassins. Counter hunters. Some sick fucks have been targeting merc outposts. Argo's crew—mutilated. Wiped out last night. Brutal."
Kun clenched his jaw.
"That's fucked."
"Yeah," Ray said. "That's why I doubled security here. Place might be sleazy, but it's safe."
Suho circled back.
"So about that permission..."
Ray shrugged, finally leaning forward.
"You're grown. I don't own you. You wanna go? Go."
He grinned again.
Ray leaned on the table, grinning wide.
"Hell—if you make it to graduation, I'll show up with a fresh girl for each of you. Deal?"
One of the girls on the couch rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "You said that to the last crew too."
The other just laughed softly, exhaling smoke as she stretched out on the cushions.
"Ray's idea of a graduation gift is a hangover and a guilt complex," she said.
Ray waved them off, unbothered.
"Don't listen to 'em. You two make it out of that Academy, I'll throw the biggest damn party this city's ever hated."
Kun rolled his eyes.
"You're impossible."
Ray pointed at him with the neck of the bottle.
"And you're mine."
He set the glass down, serious now.
"You've got my permission. And my trust."
His gaze shifted between them.
"But keep it together. Kun, watch your brother. Suho, protect your idiot."
Suho gave a quiet nod.
Ray leaned back, smiling again.
"Go raise hell."
——
Kun and Suho gave Ray a short bow, a nod of respect that didn't need words.
"If you need anything," Ray said, raising his glass, "you can always call me."
They nodded once more, then turned to leave.
As they headed down the stairs, Kun muttered under his breath.
"That was easy. I thought he'd tie us up and interrogate us or something."
Suho shrugged.
"He works with Administration now. That changes things."
——
Meanwhile…
Ray leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as the cigar burned down between his fingers.
"Heh… they've grown up."
His voice was low. Almost fond.
"I hope you brothers make it out."
One of the girls nearby looked over, brow raised.
"What are you mumbling about now, Ray?"
He waved it off with a tired grin.
"Nothing important."
Then—
Bzzzt.
His phone lit up.
Ray answered without hesitation.
"Speak."
A calm, digitized voice answered on the other end.
"Thank you for giving them permission, Ray McKinnon."
Ray's grin faded.
"Keep them safe... and send regards to their father."
A pause. Then:
"Very well."
Click.
The line went dead.
Ray stared at the phone in silence.
Then, quietly:
"I already failed their old man once..."
He glanced toward the door they'd walked out of.
"I'm not doing it again."
He exhaled, long and slow, eyes heavy.
"Just... don't die too early, boys."
——
Kun and Suho passed through the main floor again—music still blaring, lights still pulsing, chaos still in full swing.
The guards let them through without a word.
One of the girls from earlier approached with a smirk, blocking Kun's path for a second.
"Still don't wanna play? It's early, you know..."
Kun grinned as he passed her.
"Nah. Got a job to do."
"Ahh... always the good boy," she teased, stepping aside.
They slipped out into the night—
And the door shut behind them with a soft click, cutting off the noise like a dying heartbeat.
——
They walked in silence.
The streets were quieter now. Not safer—just quiet. Like the city was holding its breath.
Steam hissed from broken vents. Neon signs buzzed in the mist.
Above them, the sky looked like static—dark clouds smeared with artificial light.
Kun kicked a loose stone across the sidewalk.
"You think Ray's really working for Admin, or just selling scraps to whoever pays?"
Suho didn't answer right away. Just kept walking, hands deep in his jacket pockets.
"Both," he finally said. "Ray's a survivor. Loyalty comes second."
"Yeah…" Kun muttered. "Still weird seeing him sober."
They turned onto their block. The apartment building stood like a crooked tooth, tucked between a noodle stand and an old scrapyard. A flickering light barely lit the stairwell.
Inside, it was colder than usual.
They didn't say anything as they stepped in. Just tossed their jackets onto the rack. Kun dropped onto the couch with a groan and grabbed the nearest blanket off the floor.
"You take the bed," he muttered. "I'm dead anyway."
Suho nodded.
Didn't argue.
As Kun rolled over, half-buried in old laundry and static, Suho stood for a moment in the half-light.
Outside, rain had started to fall.
Not hard. Just enough to smear the neon across the glass.
He walked to the window, leaning on the frame. Watched the drops race down.
He didn't move.
Didn't blink for a while.
His reflection in the glass looked older. Not in years—but in weight.
If Ray was right… if the Administration really was watching them—
Then this wasn't just survival anymore.
His fingers curled slightly on the windowsill.
The city stared back. Unbothered. Dying. Eternal.
He stood there for a minute.
Maybe more.
Then he turned.
Laid down on the bed.
And let the sound of the rain swallow everything.