warnings: Crack, OOCness, general stupidity and a complete lack of regard for canon timelines. Not to be taken orally/seriously.

a/n: I sincerely apologize for the contents of this fic, and to everyone who's waiting for my others to update. But then, if you're not in this fandom, why are you reading it?

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BOOM, HEADSHOT!

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Chapter 1: Damn Frankenstein.

First there was Han Shinwoo. Han Shinwoo and Woo Ik-Han, to be precise, because where one led, the other was likely - in M-21's lamentably growing experience - to follow.

He hadn't paid that much attention at first, of course, merely picking up the beginnings of an intense rivalry from the children's babbled conversation, and it wasn't as if it mattered. Not when there were dishes to be done, anyway.

Damn Frankenstein.

Then the rest of the kids got involved - the human ones anyway, and Raizel, and at that point they were in the computer room more often than at the table, playing some video game that led to Frankenstein twitching dangerously whenever one of the boys laughed over Raizel's unerring ability to wander into a line of fire.

Not, of course, that M-21 found that secretly entertaining or anything, if only for the scientist's reactions. Really. (He'd take his victories where he found them.)

Then Regis and Seira had somehow started playing rather than watching, and - and suddenly, it had come into the household. Properly.

And then M-21 had had to start paying attention.

"Tao-hyung would be amazing at Golden Dawn," Ik-Han had chirped, looking at Tao with with half-pleading, half-adoring eyes that M-21 (with aforementioned growing experience) translated as 'Help me, far-more-talented hacker, Shinwoo keeps kicking my ass and mocking me for it'.

"Aha, well, you're probably right," replied Tao, tone blatantly immodest - who did he think he was fooling? - grinning as he attempted to steal a piece of chicken from M-21's plate. M-21 gave the usual response - stabbing casually at the encroaching hand with his chopsticks - and Tao nonchalantly retreated, aiming for a less violent target's meal (Takeo's). Everyone pretended not to notice. "All the same, I don't think it would be that fair, if I were to play." He shot Ik-Han an apologetic, slightly indulgent look that M-21, with even more ease, translated as 'I want to play, give me a reason, nownownow, let me shoot things and prove how awesome I am'.

And people said he had emotional issues.

Ha.

Ignoring the annoyed look Takeo shot him as his food transferred itself to Tao's mouth (his own fault for being too nice), M-21 half-listened to the conversation, preferring to focus on the meal. Seira was an excellent cook after all, and it was pleasant to have something other than ramen, which was what Frankenstein usually served up when Seira was unable to cook, to 'please his master'.

Damn Frankenstein.

And damn his surprisingly delicious ramen.

"Why are you glaring at your food?"

M-21 slipped all expression off his face and glanced at Tao, who was tilting his head, staring at him curiously. I was wishing it was ramen. No. He'd never admit it. "... No reason."

"... Right." Tao considered this for a moment, before aiming a chopstick for M-21's plate.

"Tao!"

"You weren't eating it! Just let- ow!"

"No stabbing each other with wooden implements," Frankenstein said cheerily. "Or I will find something sharper."

Tao promptly left M-21's plate alone. If the pair of them hadn't suddenly lost their appetites, M-21 might have considered that a victory.

Damn Frankenstein.

"You're kind of scary, Chairman," Shinwoo commented happily, lounging back from his own, finished meal. "Okay, who's going to play Golden Dawn?" Eyes narrowing, he grinned, clapping his hand together. "Sorry, I mean, who's going to get completely owned by me?"

As it turned out, it was every single one of the human children, Raizel, Regis and Seira.

And as M-21 was smugly pleased to overhear Regis muttering later in the day (after all the dishes had been done, damn Frankenstein), this was just getting embarrassing.

Well, Shinwoo might have been lording his successive victories in some ridiculous game over the others, but it certainly wasn't M-21's problem.

Until Tao.

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M-21 liked Tao. Honestly, he did. As a comrade, colleague, housemate and - yes, even as a friend. Just because he wasn't the most demonstrably emotional of the trio (read: he was an emotionally-stunted, socially-incapable jackass) didn't mean he didn't care about Tao and (usually) enjoy his company.

He wasn't entirely sure why this was so, but it was, and M-21's current working theory - that any day now, he'd be diagnosed as an insane masochist - was becoming more and more likely.

Anyway.

The fact was that as much as he (inexplicably) liked having Tao around, he was wary of having Tao's attention. Sometimes it was beneficial, sometimes it didn't much matter, and sometimes - well, sometimes it led to masks. And codenames. And Ye-Ran ice-cream parties.

M-21 quickly shunted that particular memory into the part of his mind entitled Memories to be Repressed, wondering vaguely how it had escaped, and then suddenly couldn't remember what he'd been thinking about. Tao, and codenames and... ice-cream? Never mind.

The point was that when Tao was slinking up to you with that cheshire cat grin on his face, eyes actually sparkling (how did that even work?) and body containing that excited, barely-controlled tremor that screamed, 'I have an idea and despite how much you'll hate it I'm going to talk you into doing it anyway, because I'm the amazing Tao and you're all my bitches' - well, that was a sign to get out of there.

Fast.

Unfortunately, M-21 couldn't, because he was currently assigned to dusting the lounge, and if he attempted to flee his homeowner-given duty, Something Terrible would happen. Every now and then, he still woke-up, wide-eyed and sweating from the memory of Frankenstein's last punishment, the milkbone and the squeaky toy etched indelibly onto his mind, unable even to be forced into his Repression section.

Damn Frankenstein.

Oh, right. So there was Tao. Tao, obviously with a capital-p Plan, backed up with a genius intellect, a decent serving of sadism and the kind of personality that, unrestrained by his IQ, would have him pressing every button in Frankenstein's lab to see what it did. And would probably find it hilarious from the afterlife if one of said buttons succeeded in blowing up half the country (which M-21 didn't find inconceivable).

Why did he like him, again? Ah, yes. Masochism.

Oh, and he'd been staring suspiciously at Tao's still, observant figure for three minutes now, without actually moving or saying anything. Hm. Time to pretend he was a sane, rational ex-human being.

"... This isn't a staring contest, Tao."

"You started it."

Yeah. Masochism. It was the only explanation.