Work Text:
Subject TAUIKP-13: The Unawakened Scammer. (The Tower Swindler, The Scammer, The F-Rank Swindler, etc.)
Heretofore abbreviated as Subject 13.
Name: N/A
Age: N/A
Family: N/A
...
Personal Information: N/A*
*Currently, nothing is known about Subject 13. No information has been able to be confirmed by the government at this time. Further research and monitoring of the subject is recommended for this file.
Ma Seong-Un stared down at his laptop critically, unimpressed with the job the other departments had done with Subject 13’s file.
Rogue’s own file was barebones, but it at least had estimates and guesses proposed to fill in the gaps. This “official” file made by Korean Hunter Association was just…
“Pathetic.” Seong-Un muttered.
It seemed like he would have to do all the work himself. Reconnaissance, profiling, and information gathering, the old fashioned way.
“Sir, the subject has been sent to the interrogation room. He’ll be arriving promptly.” An assistant notified over his comm.
Seong-Un gave a single tap to the comm hidden in his ear, knowing his team would be watching through the hidden cameras carefully placed around the cell-like room.
For Subject 13's paperwork filing, Seong-Un had specifically chosen Interrogation Room Two, and made the decision to conduct the process himself. Mostly because he anticipated the subject's aggressive behavior would need to be tempered, and this was the best place to do so. However, now that he knew exactly how much information they had on the subject (or lack thereof) Seong-Un would now be using the room to its fullest potential.
Intimidating answers out of naive, young recruits. Ah, such memories.
Seong-Un sent a last few commands to his team. As he felt the climate in the room changing, the door on his side opened as Subject 13 entered. The young man walked right in with no hesitation, letting the door shut behind him with a slam. Neither man flinched.
“Thank you very much for agreeing to join my agency." Seong-Un welcomed him in with an extended hand. "This identity creation for Rogue should only take an hour of your time.”
Subject 13 shook it firmly and briskly. Not harsh enough to be a display of hostility, but still strong enough to show he had a tight grip. His hands were calloused, but not as much as Seong-Un expected. From the sword he’d been wielding at the mining site, and the wounds inflicted on the bodies, they had anticipated the subject to have years of sword training. He must have, to be able to use a sword so competently despite the ownership debuff.
Yet, his hands only showed the callouses of—well, a couple months of mining work, exactly like on Rogue’s file.
“My agency will sort out all the technical details, but we will need your assistance filling out the documentation.” Seong-Un laughed lightly with a professional smile. “This is your identity, after all. You probably want your own say in it.”
Subject 13, of all things, seemed more interested in looking at the back of Seong-Un’s laptop than anything else.
“Sure.”
The subject didn't say anything more.
Playing hard to get. Well, that was fine. Seong-Un had plenty of experience with far more intimidating people than this kid who wouldn't look out of place in a k-drama.
“Let's start off easy. What name do you go by currently, and what would you like written down?”
Seong-Un was hopeful he’d get a better response compared to his assistant, who'd been easily blown off when speaking with the subject previously. Not only was Seong-Un a high ranking government official, but he was also the subject's new boss. Social convention—along with the claustrophobic, steel and concrete room they were in—should pressure the man into compliance. Psychologically, the human mind would feel the urge to obey when met with spoken and unspoken signs of authority.
“I don't go by anything. Just put Cha Minwoo.”
Seong-Un started typing that out before pausing.
He recognized that name. How could he not? The Mining Incident was the only source of solid information they had on Subject 13, and the behavioral patterns of the time before it were monitored closely. Work records, financials, CCTV, and even traffic cameras around the work site were all combed over by Rogue’s investigators. It was how they found out Subject 13 was sleeping at saunas and cafes, and it was how they tracked down any emotional attachments he might have.
Consequently, Seong-Un had made himself very familiar with the details regarding that day, and the people most closely involved with the subject.
That name matched one of the member's of Subject 13's gang.
Cha Min-Woo, single, retired parents, aged 28. Spent two years in a juvenile center, and that mark on his record kept him job hopping for the rest of his life. He was part of the four man group that took Subject 13 to various gaming spots, restaurants, karaoke, and other typical civilian activities prior to the Incident. According to surveillance, the four were his only acquaintances, and his underlings in his gang.
The gang were part of the youngest mining section, and were the most efficient workers at that site. Extortion of other miner's products was proposed, but no records or security footage showed any signs of it. The gang didn't extort money or bully newcomers, and rather spent more time chatting up the cafeteria ladies for better meals. Subject 13's physical appearance aided this endeavor greatly. While the subject was the undisputed boss of the group, he was the least likely to pick fights or bother other workers.
In fact, the only fights he had ever been with had been the members of his gang. It seems that beating them all in a fight was what gained him their respect, and his position.
They were more akin to a delinquent friend group than actual criminals. All the gang members had their own sordid records, but nothing within the most recent years. Overall, they appeared to be youths that had banded together to foster camaraderie with their fellow redeemed workers, and on the path to future success as upstanding citizens.
All four of Subject 13's friends were murdered during the Incident.
Cha Min-Woo didn't seem to have any particular closeness to the subject compared to the other three, but it was this man who Subject 13 decided to name himself after, so Seong-Un added that note to the file. It was curious that the subject kept insisting he had no name, so Seong-Un wrote a line about that too.
Psychological issues? Traumatic past? Criminal history? It could be anything, really.
“So, if we address you as Minwoo, you will respond?”
It was a real concern to have. Some operatives got the idea in their head to choose a "cool" alias when they joined Rogue. Be a real James Bond with their fancy new ID. But, what those excitable kids failed to realize, was that they would need to respond to their aliases as quickly as breathing. It needed to be a natural reaction, done without a second thought. There were plenty of criminal groups that Rogue had made their enemies, and Subject 13 couldn't set off any watching eyes by failing to respond to his alias.
Often, Kim Dae-Hyuns became Kim Dae-Wons, and that was the biggest change in an operative's identity.
If Subject 13 couldn't respond naturally to his crafted identity, he’d be far less useful for undercover work. If he could, it meant his real name might actually happen to be Cha Minwoo, or similar enough that he'd immediately respond. Seong-Un paid careful attention to the next few moments.
“Obviously, I would!” Subject 13 scoffed derisively, arms splayed over the back of the metal interrogation chair like it was a throne. He was infuriatingly placid, despite the environment. It was like he didn't even notice the room had been deliberately lowered to chilling temperatures. “It's not that hard to change names.”
It was, actually, but Subject 13 was boldly acting cocksure enough that Seong-Un would allow it—if only to see the brat get knocked down a peg, when he had to go through extra training to adapt to his new ID. (Not to mention, the subject wouldn't be allowed to change it if he didn't like it. No take backsies, in professional terms.)
Along with the name, Seong-Un typed out a note to approve a detailed deep dive into the deceased Cha Min-Woo. Rogue needed to find any possible connections to Subject 13’s real past as soon as possible. It was truly ridiculous one, unawakened civilian kept it hidden for so long. Even if the surface level government agencies had more regulations and less experience than Rogue, Seong-Un found it disappointing.
Regardless, until they had a solid lead, all Seong-Un could do was continue to chip away at the subject. It seems he'd spend the foreseeable future prodding at the edges of Minwoo's psyche, attempting to reveal glimmers of truth under the blustering facade the young man put up.
“What about your parents, or any siblings?” Seong-Un kept his tone carefully light, almost too casual. “Cousins, uncles, kids, whatever—if you ever want to see them again, your identity will need a plausible link to them.”
The newbie was utterly unfazed by the subtextual threat of never seeing his family again, or perhaps too arrogant and dense to notice it.
Whichever it was, Minwoo looked at Seong-Un as if he were stupid.
“I didn't have parents, and my her- my siblings are all dead." Minwoo's mouth twitched, but Seong-Un couldn't tell whether it was towards a frown or a smile. For such a loud character, he could be very hard to read. "Just put me down as an orphan, or whatever.”
Sorry, he had siblings? Multiple? And they had all died? Seong-Un could hear the observation team typing that down at a furious pace. However possible, they needed to figure out more than only that. How many siblings did he have, and was he a middle child, youngest, or oldest? Minwoo certainly struck Seong-Un as an only child, but a spoiled youngest or irresponsible oldest was also quite possible.
His comm crackled with quick muttering between the research teams. “Analyze his behavior to determine whether he had brothers, sisters, both, or neither. How did they die?"
That was the most vital question of them all. Their deaths were likely banal and mundane. Statically, they went out by diseases and car accidents. But, on the rare chance they weren't, knowing that would be an invaluable tool for holding control of the asset. Even if they were one of the many who died in the Gate Shock, the exact circumstances of their deaths could be a key part of the subject's psyche.
Seong-Un contorted his face into the picture of sympathy and understanding, his voice low and soft.
“I'm sorry for your loss.” Seong-Un murmured with kind eyes, tilting his head in the way he knew made him seem the most sympathetic.
Minwoo seemed surprised for a moment, and Seong-Un felt a swell of hope, before Minwoo outright laughed himself into a fit. His bubble of optimism died a horrendously quick death.
Seong-Un tightened his fist so tightly he was leaving indents in the flesh of his palm. Slowly, he took in a quiet breath, and let it out with utter calm. He relaxed his minute tension and spread his fingers back over the keyboard. He wasn't going to let some obnoxious, inexperienced, over-inflated delinquent who had been awakened for less than a week get to him.
He was above this. He and his team would have plenty of time to observe and analyze their newest asset in the future, so there was no need to stress himself over this.
His agency would figure it out. Rogue always did.
“And your age?” Seong-Un's teasing smile came out more forced than it should, for how much he practiced it. "I certainly hope you're old enough to drink, or we might have a problem."
You would think Minwoo was a CEO’s heir or an A-list idol, with how he handled himself. He could certainly make money as a model, if this government assassin gig didn't pan out. If he flaked, the stubborn bastard would probably survive any hits put on him out of sheer desire to annoy Seong-Un into an early grave.
Minwoo tilted his head at him, and Seong-Un could swear he had never seen someone act so naturally condescending, without being the heir of an international conglomerate.
Was this a variety show? Was Minwoo a paid actor?
Did his assistants sign him up for 'hidden prank cam' instead of 'covert hunter operations' today?
“How old do I look to you?” Minwoo asked with disgustingly sincere curiosity.
Does he want me to dig my grave right here in this floor? Seong-Un wondered, slightly wide-eyed and a hint of mania leaking in. This guy won’t cut me a single inch of slack.
“Early to mid twenties.” Seong-Un’s voice was clipped as he rattled off the estimate, straight from Rogue’s still-too-thin profile.
“Hmm, okay. I'm 24, then.” Minwoo spoke in a tone that made it clear he was choosing a middle-of-the-road number on purpose. A smile split his face for just long enough to reveal a sharp canine that appeared startlingly like a fang, before it vanished, and Minwoo was yet again engrossed with staring at Seong-Un's laptop.
“Alright then.” Seong-Un simply wrote child, knowing his team would edit it in post. “Birth date?”
Minwoo sighed loudly, kicking his feet up on the steel table without a flinch at the loud noise in the small, echoing room. “Jesus Christ, you can't make things easy.”
Seong-Un felt very tempted to use the key in his pocket to lock the subject in this room, and hopefully engender some facsimile of manners from this boy meant to be his subordinate. He reminded himself he still worked for the government, and that this room was being recorded.
You'll get to order him around. You'll be able to make him do whatever you want. Make him live in that shitty hovel in the outskirts of Seoul, and he'll hate it, you know he will.
"We need it to be one you'll remember when prompted, so you'll have to choose it yourself, I'm afraid."
Might I suggest April 1st? He thought very loudly, but did not say.
“Ah, fucking, uhh -” Minwoo stared at the ceiling and blew a raspberry. “December 25th.”
“Christmas?” Seong-Un couldn't help but be audibly exasperated. “Are you certain?”
The subject couldn't be more blatantly making every detail up. Seong-Un supposed he could see it positively, and be glad the man understood some discretion. But, it was also far harder for Rogue to hide the truth of Minwoo from the public, when they didn't know what the truth was.
Offensively, Minwoo stared at him like he had no idea what he was talking about.
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
Seong-Un wanted to stab him.
Minwoo seemed unphased by his death glare and rising killing intent, only observing Seong-Un like an amused parent would their ignorant toddler.
“The 25th of December is when you celebrate Sol Invictus." Minwoo said like it was common fucking knowledge. "It's ironic.”
Ironic?
The comm in his ear buzzed with an explanation from the team watching through the hidden cameras.
“Sol Invictus is the Roman sun god, sometimes known as Helios or ‘The Unconquered Sun’. December 25th was when his birthday was celebrated with a festival -”
Seong-Un muted the comm with a click on his keyboard. Did this kid know what irony meant? And what the hell kind of nut job thought of Sol Invictus before they thought of Christmas?
Seong-Un paused in his agitation as he considered something, subtly glancing back to examine Minwoo’s unbothered demeanor.
The young man's complexion was naturally on the darker side, an olive tan with deeper brown tones than most Koreans had. With his wavy hair texture, sharper features, and height…
Could he be a foreigner?
That would explain why the Korean database was completely unable to find any records of him, his blood, or even his fingerprints. If his parents were dead, and he was an orphan, he would've been registered in their foster care system—yet there was no sign of him. That seemed impossible.
Unless, of course, Minwoo was from a different country.
Seong-Un wrote a note to the observing teams to investigate a possible Italian heritage for Subj- for Minwoo. It could be that the man had grown up in Italy, and was raised on Italian history, explaining his familiarity with an obscure, ancient Roman holiday. It was only of interest to the small populace of modern Pagans, and Minwoo didn't strike him as particularly devout.
Though, Seong-Un could always be proven wrong. The moment he felt like he was beginning to get a grasp on the man in front of him, Minwoo revealed something new that completely recontextualized his entire character profile.
“Blood type?”
Minwoo stared back at him uncomprehendingly.
“...Red?”
Don't kill him don't kill him don't kill him—
“We’ll use our sample of your blood to determine it.” Seong-Un said with his sunniest smile, not caring that he revealed the government had preserved Minwoo’s blood vials from his initial discovery at the Tower.
"You do that." Minwoo breezily responded.
Apparently, Minwoo also didn't care about the fact that the government had kept the blood samples they took. He didn't give Seong-Un a single iota of a reaction.
“Yikes, Boss is pissed.” Murmured one of his observing assistants, seeming not to realize Seong-Un had turned the comms back on.
Breathe in for 4, hold for 5, breathe out for 8. Don't kill new recruits right in front of your team, it ruins morale for at least a month.
“Alright.” Seong-Un snapped his laptop screen down and pleasantly crossed his hands in the middle of the table.
“You'll report back here tomorrow to receive your new identification card, and then go straight to the Hunter's Central Administration Headquarters. Remember that you can't be a hunter without a code name, so be sure to think on it.”
Minwoo nodded apathetically, teetering back and forth on the chair with his feet still inches away from pushing Seong-Un’s laptop over the edge.
“Yea, I got it.”
Seong-Un only smiled brighter.
“That should be all we need you for today, so you're free to go. I hope we didn't cause you too much trouble."
“Only a bit, no worries.” Minwoo carelessly let the steel legs of the chair crash down on the concrete floor, creating an awful, metallic echo in the room.
In Seong-Un’s ear, his comm let out a high pitched screech as the crash of the chair echoed in the microphone.
Minutely, he couldn't help but flinch.
“Thanks for the papers.” Minwoo said without even a nod, standing up and heading for the door.
Seong-Un picked up his laptop and stood, turning to watch the young man leave.
Calling back on years of training and real life experience, he took in every last detail of the subject. The way he moved smoothly, despite his injuries. The cocky tilt to his head, done seemingly on instinct. The lack of any signs of tears or grief, despite all his friends having died only days ago.
Seong-Un absentmindedly called out, just as the man grabbed the door handle. He spoke quiet enough that his voice could easily be lost and dismissed if you weren't paying attention, or if it wasn't your name called.
“One more thing, Minwoo?”
Immediately, the young man paused in the doorway, turning around mid stride. Those impassive hazel eyes looked over his shoulder with a blasé expression.
“Yeah?”
The subject had responded as naturally as a professional.
Seong-Un couldn't even be pleased.
“...We’ll be providing you with a new address soon, complimentary with your admission to the Rogue program.”
The young man should be ecstatic. He should be grateful, or relieved, or blustering about how he didn't need their help.
Minwoo only blinked once, then shrugged. “I think I'd prefer the saunas, but whatever. Do what you want.”
Minwoo turned right back around and strolled down the hall like it was his runway. He didn't pay a lick of attention to the agents purposefully bustling up and down the path, or any of the papers they held within glancing distance. He kept his shoulders back, his head up, and walked as an Emperor would in his palace.
Subject 13 made zero logical sense.
He was desperate enough for cash to work in a dungeon mine when unawakened. He was homeless, and relying on 24 hour businesses to sleep. His only four friends in the world had all been brutally murdered by a criminal, who the subject then avenged through an even more brutal execution. By all stretches of logic, psychology, and personality profiling, Subject 13 should be easily understood and prone to manipulation using his recent tragedy as a motivator.
Yet, he didn't just act like he owned the building as he sauntered away.
Cha Minwoo acted like he owned the world.
Seong-Un watched the figure walk all the way until it turned out of sight, a conflicted emotion bubbling in his chest all the while.
He might be making the biggest mistake of his career, allowing a loose cannon like him into Rogue rather than disposing of him. Knowing how effectively Minwoo adapted to a new identity, and how efficiently he slaughtered those criminals, he might be a disaster in the making. Yet, Seong-Un also felt like allowing the inexplicable Subject 13 in might be the start of something very, very interesting.
And Seong-Un did love to be entertained.