It wasn't the first time that Jongin was in Berlin but last time he'd been a pop star, now he was a superhero. Technically, he was still a pop star, but that was more a convenient cover for his, their, undercover operations. Tell the world you're travelling to film a new music video when in fact youre chasing internationally wanted criminals. Works every time. And you can wave to your fans at the airport.
Maybe the most well-kept secret of the South Korean government was that a selected few celebrities were injected with a serum that greatly enhanced their strength, stamina, endurance and cell regeneration. Super humans, if you will. But the transformation process was arduous, putting great strain on the body. Many collapsed, their bodies rejecting the serum. But quite a few were successful. And in the rarest cases, most prized by the government, the serum caused a violent anti-reaction in the bodies, a sort of allergic shock, that brought its victims to the brink of death and awoke in those that survived strange powers.
Jongin discovered he could teleport. At first only from one end of the room to the other. Then from his bedroom to the bathroom. Now, anywhere. You gave him the coordinates, he went. Objects he had on him teleported with him, living beings stayed where they were. So he was often sent on short solo missions, stealth, intel, deliveries, that sort of thing. He only wished they'd stop sending him to North Korea.
Like the one in Berlin, he'd seen most UN government offices from the inside, delivering files marked TOP SECRET. They'd nicknamed him Hermes, messenger of the gods. Or carrier pidgeon. That's what Natasha Romanoff called him when he brought a highly confidential message to the Stark Tower. She was the one who welcomed him in, and called over the building's intercom. "Hey Tony, we've got a carrier pidgeon." Mr. Stark showed up a moment later, grinning. "Should just install a huge nest on top of the tower for all the birds were collecting here. What's next, canaries, ravens? Well," he turned to Jongin, "what you got for me?"
The Sokovia Accords had been drafted in a short amount of time, and many passages still posed questions, or, for the more cunning, chances to eke out advantages. Jongin had been popping in and out of offices the whole month, barely leaving him time to show a glimpse of his civilian self to the fans. News was released that Exo was "preparing for a new album" to buy him more time and explain away his absence.
Jongin's arrival was expected at the Chancellery in Berlin, that glass and cement cube on the banks of the river Spree. A throng of security personnel was already waiting to escort him inside when he popped up with trails of ghostly black smoke behind him. Scientifically, Jongin didn't know what they were but he thought of them as skid marks he left behind when he leapt through space. They dissolved in a second. He was led inside the building.
Just moments after that, as he would find out later, a helicopter crashed from the rooftop into the water behind him.
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