āYou cannot fraternize with the enemy this way.ā
āYour entire livelihood is at stake and over a woman of all things.ā
āWe thought better of you.ā
āYouāre a disgrace to this organization.ā
āYou need to choose. Us, or this bitch.ā
---------
Park HyungSeok moved along the pavement slowly, blood splattered shoes clicking unevenly as a twisted ankle screamed profanities up at him. He looked like the personification of violence then, a terror skulking into the night as a gun hung limply from his gore painted hand. Vibrant crimson stained his clothes and dripped lines down his face, red a stark comparison to the pale skin and shockingly dark eyes glaring forward.
They should not have made him choose.
Though the night was heavy, it wasnāt dark. Fire lapped into the city sky with burning tongues of light, the Viper headquarters turning to ash, yet no one ran out.
There was no one to run out.
Perhaps killing them all was an overreaction, but Seokās mind told him otherwise. It was calculation he surmised, a reaction that was inevitable, chemical because his employers pushed the right buttons. They had it comingā¦
And now they were dead.
The faint sound of sirens was the first thing to alert Hyungseok of the danger. Legality and law were both things he wished avoid, they could complicate things, as if things werenāt complicated enough.
The complexity had begun weeks ago at his enemyās announcement: Hyuna was pregnant and Hyungseok was the father. The Viper heads didnāt know this, of course, but by making him choose they were telling him to kill not only hyuna, but his child. They were unknowingly attacking his identity and subsequently him. And no one attacks him in such a way. No one except one. Ā
The tall figure ducked down the nearest alleyway as a parade of quickly moving lights screeched into view, sirens screaming as the assassin robotically holstered his weapon and untucked his shirt to hide it. Damn cops.
There was far too much blood, if he was spotted now there would be no hiding the guilt splattering him, so without thought he acted. Off first came the jacket, black material disguising red easily as he ran the expensive cloth over his face and hands, smearing and eventually clearing the blood from his skin. Then came his shirt, unfortunately white and no longer pure, it was the most obvious of all and needed to go. After tearing it off in the darkened alley the killer jammed it into his waiting bag, re-donning the overcoat and smoothing his pale hair back with a single hand.
It was only then that he reached the main street and hailed a speeding taxi, his mind working quickly, unsure what to do.
----
The car ride wasnāt long, but it was long enough for Hyungseok to realize fully what heād done. There was no regret, true. Heād acted out of calculation, weighing the risk and yetā¦Heād still acted despite the stupidity of it all.
What was he becoming?
The Vipers were a worldwide organization. Just because they were most heavily established in Seoul didnāt mean they were exclusive to it, Seok of all people knew this after traveling the world in their service. And heād made them angry. Heād killed their leaders. Heād destroyed the Vipers with 2 guns, three clips of bullets and some conveniently placed alcohol. If that wasnāt enough to make the remnant vengeful, he didnāt know what would.
They should not have made him choose.
Hyungseok was oddly calm, not just on the outside, but on the inside as well. Though his mind told him to be stressed there was none of it in him, though he kept himself alert he didnāt fear what was to come. It felt like fate. Pulling the trigger had been easy, and for once he didnāt feel the need to smother himself in nicotine afterwards. He wondered if that was a sign his humanity was truly gone, or perhaps it was the opposite. But, no matter the reason, he was glad to be rid of it. It was freeing, even if he needed to run now.
-----
An hour later the calm assassin exited his new car smoothly, locking the door and moving up the stairs to his waiting apartment with a relaxed precision so unlikely given the situation.
He looked cleaner, the car dealershipās bathroom decent enough accommodations to erase the last remaining evidence of his nighttime violence; his hair once more slicked back, his cold eyes unreadable as a pale hand unlocked their apartment door.
This is not the way into my heart, into my head, Into my brain, into none of the above
This is just my way of unleashing the feelings deep inside of me
This spark of black that I seem to love
-Simon Curtis āFleshā
{Three years in the future}
Itās not that big of a deal, he tells himself. In the long run it is nothing, a simple stumbling block in the minds of a few clients but not much else. He had no reason to be upset about it truly, no justified logic behind his actions other than spite. It was childish, petty, and over all unjustified for him to be acting this way.
It had simply made him mad.
He will admit, placing bombs in the womanās latest targets home was a little irrational, something leaning towards her rash insanity over the collected vices he normally puts into practice. It was a similar feeling heād felt in their earlier years that had driven him to this point; the frustration of being beaten bubbling up into a bursting outbreak of aberrant behaviors fueled by nothing more than revenge and the need to dominate and destroy all contenders in his path. Like most things surrounding Hyuna he couldnāt quite help himself, her enticing actions tending to bring out the very worst of his irrationality; driving him into over the top and foolish measures that when looked back upon seems superfluous and imbecilic.
And like always it was over foolish things.
Stupid.
Of course they would be seen, of course a fight had broken out; a skirmish initialized leaving both killers out of breath with dead Crest lackeys piled up around them in the end. It was a miracle that crime had not been witnessed, it was a miracle they had managed to slip away, and they both knew it. Neither had been hurt, scratched up, or even bruised greatlyā¦but Hyuna had still left her mark.
It was the mark in question that serves now as the black haired assassinās hang up; a bruise left not by anger or ill intent but by something greater, branding his neck with the sign of her victory and setting his anger ablaze and his need for retribution on edge.
He knows in the end he should have little to complain about, little to worry about, little to fret overā¦but this was hyuna, and nothing she did could ever just let him go. Like everything else this mark was a sign of her dominance, her superiority, her victoryā¦and it was unacceptable, the unbalance must be shoved back to center, or even better be pushed back onto her. This was what he wanted, needed, and little elseā¦not even his own logic would stand in his way when it came to realizing this goal.
Not anything. Nothing at all.
Hyungseok pulled the collar of his shirt down finally as he stepped through the cold and clutching fog towards the gloomy door of his equally dim apartment; footsteps strong and purposeful, but slow and patient at the same time. It was dark by this hour, a scattering of wavering street lights pushing themselves through the dusting mist like drowning victims struggling to stay above the waterās shifting surface; barely staying visible, barely doing their job.
Seok grimaced slightly to himself, running a cold hand over the chilled skin of his neck, not seeing the sinful mark in that moment but knowing it was there.
It was maddening.
For so long it had been like this, fighting with hyuna, a constant game and dance with death that swirled around his history like the mist now closing in all around him. Her games were unavoidable to the point that they had become tradition, a part of life that haunted his every step and every moment whether sleeping or waking. She was as constant as the beating of his heart and as intoxicating as the drinks he so vehemently avoidedā¦yet somehow with that woman, he had learned to embrace it.
What had changed between them?
It was nothing, and everything. There was no clear point when the tides turned, when their attacks became games and their games turned into something else neither could fully wrap their minds around. Though there had been fleeting moments one could consider stepping stones towards where they are today, no clear and sudden change had occurredā¦and neither one of them could truly place what was different. The threat of death was still just as high as ever, injury a constant battle. Then what had changed?
Seemingly nothing from the outside; they still fought, still tried to kill. So perhaps it was inward, emotional. Such a laughable concept surrounding the two killers who had less moral code than the typical animal and whose emotional health was about as stable as a teeter-totter and as extensive as a childrenās book index. Ā
So then what was it?
Hyungseok let out a small breath of air through the cold as he finally reached his apartmentās door; his legs drawing still once he stood before the entrance just as his hand slipped down to fish out the silver key from his pocket. He unlocked the door in question moments later with barely a sound, stepping inside with an almost lazy air about him even despite the chaos he soon discovered his home had fallen into.
It was ruin that met his eyes when he stepped through the creaking archway; glass shattered and walls hammered in, papers strewn everywhere and books torn apart like flowers disassembled by a pining lover in need of direction. Without the faintest flicker of emotion the man stepped into his once orderly abode; his shoes crunching over glass and rubble as the keys in his hands slipped to the barely stable glass table with a soft clatter and his feet drug him unfazed towards the bedroom as he loosened his tie.
How odd it was that this no longer surprised him.
He couldnāt say it had been unexpected after all; he had blown up her target, she had ruined his home, it was all a part of their natural push and pull that seemed to drive every aspect of their unconventional relationship. And, just as the wreckage was expected, so was the form he found to be lounging calmly on his bed when he finally entered the white confines of his previously tidy room.
"and your day went well?" He asked in a monotone and unemotional voice, moving towards his closet as he loosened the tie around his neck enough to slip it from his shoulders all together and toss it to the woman sprawled on his comforter.Ā
Very few like to travers the moments of their greatest failures within memories, most wishing simply to graze over those times as if they had never occurred, pushing them to the back of oneās brain like gifts from lovers long past are hidden, soured emotions easily forgotten as theyāre swept under the carpet of excuse and repression. Though Hyungseok was by far an unconventional being; someone who walked bluntly on the edge that separates humanity from insanity and normality from the warped and unorthodox twist that poisons a killers mind. He was still subject to this form of thinking, trying to avoid oneās own mistakes in favor of the peace forgetting had to offer. Maybe that in of itself was weak thinking, choosing to burry past events like an accidental killer would try to hide the body. In the end it was bound to be uncovered, right? Washed up onto shore or dug up when least expected. Like a germ ingested itās only a matter of time before it and much more is expelled and brought to the surface, vomited for the world to see in a far from neat fashion.
It was this sentence that played over and over in the stone-faced manās mind as he stood stiffly before the small assembly of high ranking Vipers that had gathered; many a hardened face glowering in his direction as he stared with blank eyes over the lot.
āIt has come to our attentionā¦ā a towering man in the center was saying. āā¦that your loyalties with us should be questioned.ā
Though Hyungseokās expression never wavered and those words sparked anything but good feelings in the pit of his stomach, even so he felt the urge to scoff at that obvious statementā¦and if he had been a lesser man he may have. Of course loyalties had to be questioned; there was not a man or woman within the ranks of their gang who should be trusted entirely at any given time, especially in the dark business he himself dealt in.
On top of that Seok was a man of only partial fidelity, bound to the viper syndicate but on the loosest levels possible; more of a consulting assassin than any loyal lackey of the gangās fold. That all being said and put into that context, the speaking manās words seemed superfluous in a way, obvious and clearly evidentā¦but Hyungseok was not so much of a fool as to point that out.
His expression didnāt even flicker as he watched the gathering of people; staring like a statue gazing over a crowd, the man continuing with naught a spark of emotion budging any aspect of the younger manās cold expression.
āThat all being said, we collectively believe that it is high time for an evaluation of your allegiance towards the Black Vipers.ā The speaking man shifted where he stood after the words rolled on his tongue, his hand lowering to the table before him and raising once more with a black remote clutched loosely in his palm.
There was a soft click and the dimly lit room flicked as a projector on the far wall flashed into life. It took only a second, the now bright wall slowly seeping into darker colors like liquid seeps through a towel when it is placed over a spill. It only took a second, but in that second much of the blood in the hitmanās hardened features seemed to drain to his toes and his teeth clenched as his eyes that grew icy gazed forward.
Resting in the flickering projection was a shockingly familiar face for the practically friendless man, the blurry black and white image causing a conglomerate of long forgotten memories to flash like fireworks behind his eyes.
Though not a pin-prick of any thought registered in his stance or in his mask the damage was still done, long since suppressed memories oozing from their hiding places, dusting themselves off and hitting him over the head again and again with the recollection of his almost fatal mistakes.
It was only a matter of time.
There was a moment of silence in the hall that seemed to stretch on for too long, hyungseokās cold gaze shifting from the poorly taken image to the face of the previous speaker before his lips parted and his voice carried smoothly through the air.
āYour point?ā
āOur point is simple.ā The previous speaker continued quickly at the chance. āA few months back this man saved your life, either because of some form of stupidity, ignorance, or more likely devotion.ā
āPreposterous.ā Seok wanted to spit out aberrantly at the manās words, something about this whole subject seeming terribly forced even to him. It seemed thrown together and hardly thought through, the type of rubbish that had caused the dark haired killer a moment of hesitation before joining the vipers, and was only giving him a headache now.
Gangs like this had so many quabbles, almost petty sounding arguments that could linger on for years if not dealt with quickly. It was just an irritant. For Hyungseok he simply wanted to do his job, to not get caught up in their childish fighting and constant nagging about loyalties and allegiances. He was not much of a threat to them anyway; heād always done his job without question and completed it with a very small margin for error. His work outside of the vipers had never and would never conflict with their plots, and he knew so little about the Viperās innermost secrets or main goals that itās not like he would be selling information. Thisā¦conversation or interrogation, whatever you want to call itā¦it was a hoax in his eyes, a waste of time, and Hyungseok was truly done bothering with it.
ā¦But, he was not so much of a fool as to let any form of annoyance illicit a reaction from him. They were testing him after all, and wouldnāt emotion speak to a guilty conscious? Most likely it would in their eyes so he chose the higher path, letting any anger melt from his thoughts as he bit hit tongue to hold back any foolish remarks bubbling there.
āDo you deny it?ā The man kept pushing, arching his brow as he stared across the room at the stilled and dangerous man.
āThat he saved my life?ā
āYes.ā
āThere would be no point.ā Hyungseok said with the smallest shake of his head, feeling the urge to just walk out on them.
There was then silence in the room for a moment after heād spoken, all eyes shifting about the space, staring at the tall young man before them with a hard expression before letting their gaze flicker almost expectantly on the previous speaker.
āThenā¦ā the man continued as if on cue, an almost dramatic air laying heavily in his voice. āIf that is indeed the case we feel that it is high time that you prove your true loyalty to the Vipers once again. We feel that it is in your best interests to pay this Oh Sehun a visitā¦your kind of visit.ā
ā¦And it was a statement none could argue with.
ā-
Memory has always been a silly thing when it came to the professional youth whose hair changed about as much as his expression didnāt, and whose body language was about as telling as a stone.
He forgets things, memories slipping from his mind as readily as water would from a leaking glass. It was just part of the job seeing the things he did; blood and death, gore and gruesome murder being nearly an everyday sight within his line of workā¦and subconscious suppression was an ever present threat.
It was all just a part of his work, and on occasion, memories simply disappeared.
Hyungseok is the type of person that is able to learn and retain information quickly, but who can just as speedily let it slip from his mind when it was no longer needed and being used. Itās a handy trick in all honestly, to be able to forget and move onā¦but it made remembering many times a struggle.
Memory had always been a hit or miss thing when it came to the man. Though certain things stuck in his head like glue and he could retain vast amounts of numbers, dates, pictures and names if he so chose. He could just as readily forget information over time when he didnāt need it anymore. His memory is always in flux after all, taking in vast amounts of statistics and histories all for single kills before deleting it all and starting a fresh with a new person and a new biography. Though things relating to physicality and his actual work process normally stuck; fighting styles, gun uses, acting, languages, weaponry, protection, phycology, and the ever difficult to obtain sixth sense one has towards a targetās movements all permanently engraved in his mind. Things like memory, things heād lived through, histories, and even facesā¦they all just melted together over time.
It was a scary thought honestly; knowing that he will likely die sooner than most because of his line of work, yet he will not being able to remember much of his life at the end due to this maddening flaw within his own mind. Itās scary to think that at the end of his life, even through the sea of blunt information heād acquired, that he wonāt be able to remember much of his time among the livingā¦a scary prospect for sureā¦but one heās never liked to let his thoughts linger on for long.
That all aside though it was still not a miracle that he could remember this particular manās face. Even with all of the faces heād forgotten whether purposefully or by accident. Even still this man stuck out, painted in his mind forever as the one who had saved his life.
Back up a few months and youād fall upon that fateful meeting and nearly dire mistake.
It had been an oversight honestly, such a small thing that had quickly escalated into something much, much biggerā¦life threatening in fact.
Hyungseok was very good at his job; he should be after dedicating nearly his entire life wholeheartedly into the work he now strives within. But even despite all of the skill he possesses no one is perfect, and like the blade of a guillotine ready to drop, it was only a matter of time before things caught up to him.
ā¦But in this situation, instead of nearly losing a head, he almost lost a leg.
Even months later he could still feel the sting of that injury; mangled muscle and gaping cuts running deep into his flesh as the blood drained from his face with each step and white hot pain shot upward with every movement. The wound in his leg was gushing blood even with his hand pressed firmly over it, his movements now slow and painful with a trail of red following his path. To add insult to injury it had been mostly his own fault, a mistake which had lead him to this moment, putting him in this position within no better a place but within the Red crestās ranks. He would have been mad at himself if there had been an opportunity, his clouding mind at the moment so focused on the task at hand that much beyond that was becoming a struggle.
He was truly losing too much blood, knowing this to be all the more apparent as an overwhelming lightness started to claw at his mind and his actions started to seep into jerky movements and uncoordinated faltering as his vision grew splotchy and pressure in his temples began to build.
His life had always been a series of actions; taking one step after another, simply doing the next thing without hesitation like a machine forever pushing forward until its gears grow rusty and its mechanics break. Itās always kept him going doing that, forcing himself to muscle through pain and hardship towards a goal he may or may not reach. And then, once that goal is realized he simply goes onto the next, and then the next forever keeping himself busy.
And it was just this mindset that he was implementing now.
Like the determined mechanics of a robot following its programing, the young assassin simply pushed on, forcing himself even through the fire burning up his leg to walk forward, the pain nothing he told himselfā¦nothing at all.
Though memory has always been a tricky thing, and he canāt fully recall all that happened through the twist of sharp pangs in his legā¦he did remember that manās face.
The emotionless features and lidded eyes, the thin jaw and pale complexion, all of it soaking into his mind and was sponged up by his memory.
The man helped him out of that situation for reasons Hyungseok may never truly be able to justify or comprehend. Saving his life either by some spark of good intention, stupidity, or by pure and fortunate ignorance. Whatever the reason for his Good Samaritan behavior had been, Seok truly didnāt care. The man in question had taken him home, cleaned him up, and then sent him on his way without so much as a single question as to āwhy he was like thisā, or āwho he was.ā
As they say ānever look the gift horse in the mouthā. And as far as Hyungseok was concerned his short lived and brief meeting heād once had with this man meant little in the end. Though he was grateful for it, like anything else the 20 year old would have just moved on, forgotten as best he could, and simply pretend the whole event had never transpired. But of course nothing could be that simple.
Nothing ever seemed to be āthat simpleā when the vipers were involved.
ā-
The air felt like ice in his lungs, coating his throat and chest with every breath as the black haired man walked purposefully through the nearly empty streets of the neutral zone. Night was tugging at the sky as he strode forward, bathing the world in a haunting pool of shadows as the moon hung like a silver orb in the crisp evening sky and the few stars that managed to battle the light pollution twinkled where they hung.
Two days had passed, 48 hours separating the current day from the past moments spent standing in that room with the accusing gazes of many a Viper man falling on his erect form. āKill himā they had said, the order echoing in the meeting hall like the sudden bang of a gunshot. Kill him and he would prove himselfā¦Kill him and he would be a true viper again, a loyal man. It was all rubbish in the end. They acted as if this one kill would be able to mark him forever in their minds as someone to be trusted, when in truth, how much stock could one honestly put into a death taken by a killerās hand? If Seok was truly a killer and a dirty, trading, spy then how hard would it be to kill this Sehun even if they were on the same side? Not hard he can assure you. Death for the most part was just a means towards an end, and if hyungseok never had any shred of loyalty in his veins then killing even people on his own side would be easy, a piece of cake in fact. This was all just rubbishā¦irritating, and whether from spite or some vague form of debut yet to be paid in his targetās case, Hyungseok had a hankering to misbehave which was very much unlike him.
Heād probably been hanging around Hyuna too much.
As he walked he tried to time his steps wisely, treading carefully so that hopefully his well-paced meandering would lead him to the place Seok planned to carry out his āgruesome missionā just in time to catch his blissfully unaware target.
When Hyungseok reached the end of the alleyway he was roaming down he paused in the shadows of the paralleled buildings, his eyes flickering down to the digital readout of his wristwatch before staring back out into the nearly deserted road as he hid in wait for this Oh Sehun to make his greatly awaited appearance.
Luckily it didnāt take long.
There was a soft clomping of shoes on the cracked pavement up the path before Seokās target came into view; the hitman seeping back into the inky shadows until the other came across the opening of his alley and he leaped out like a spider attacking its unsuspecting prey.
His actions were smooth and well-practiced as he hooked the other man in a crushing chokehold, arm pressing firmly on his saviorās windpipe but bracing himself greatly for the struggle his studies on the man said was sure to come. He dragged him back into the alley to get their struggles off the street, actions unrelenting as he cut off the manās precious air.
Sorry I've not been active lately. Freaking muse issues... >_> I'm going to force myself to finish all the replies I've started this week so I can get over this hump of writing inadequacy. Sorry to anyone who's been waiting on replies/starters. I'll get there eventually. ;;
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