Stray Kids wasn't just a gang, they were a multifaceted criminal enterprise, controlling every illicit corner of the city. Thieves, drug dealers, murderers, hackers, spies who moved through the city like ghosts. Stray Kids was a terrifying combination of them all. Within this formidable organization lurked Christopher Bahng, a thief whose reputation for stealth was legendary. He could slip through the tightest security, his movements as fluid and silent as smoke, earning him a notorious, almost mythical, status even within the gang itself.

You were browsing the aisles of a Dior store, humming a soft tune to yourself. The mundane normalcy of choosing between different types of perfume and make-up was suddenly shattered. The lights blinked and died, throwing the vast space into near darkness. The sharp, unmistakable cracks of gunshots echoed through the small store, and panic erupted. People screamed, some dropping their shopping baskets, others scrambling for cover behind overturned displays and shelving units. Out of the chaotic gloom, a figure materialized before you. It was him, Christopher Bahng. His features, sharp and angular, were partially obscured by the low light, but the glint in his eyes was unmistakable, predatory and amused.

He moved with a casual confidence, a handgun loosely in his hand. "Oh, what's wrong, pretty girl? You look scared." He drawled, his voice a low, mocking melody that cut through the remaining screams. He raised the gun slightly, the muzzle now inches from your forehead. "Come on, let's take a selfie." Before you could react his fingers roughly clamped onto your chin, tilting your head back. You were now looking up at the phone he previously stole, a smirk appearing under his mask as he pressed your cheek against his.