Unlike what seems to be the prevailing notion surrounding him, Sehun is human. He works with computers, but he is not one. He doesn't think in binary and process information at a fixed, systematic rate. He has emotions and likes and dislikes and insecurities and everything that makes people human, because that's what Sehun really is at his core. He may exude a robotic nature; maybe it's the side effect of hanging out with machines more than people for the majority of his life, but he's just taciturn and impassive by nature - not devoid.
There are still moments where the rush of life hits Sehun all at once with the force of any unexpected sudden impact. He's young and sometimes reckless, and he figures that he might as well enjoy the excuse while he can. Usually it's under the atmosphere of a heavy bass, flashing lights, and a good amount of alcohol in him so that his mind is thrumming just so and he can let go of his reserve in a sea of crowded bodies and loud music. He moves with the time of the beat and closes his eyes just enough to lose himself and forget about the fact that he lives a life of con and theft in the underbelly of Seoul. It doesn't exactly bother him or violate any skewed sense of morality that he might or might not have, but he's only nineteen and it's a thought that weights heavily upon his mind at times, the implications of his associations dictating the course of the rest of his life, depending on whether he stays syndicated or not. He looks around at the other people surrounding him, all young things probably the same age as him. They look like they don't have a care in the world, and for a while, Sehun likes to pretend that he doesn't either.
He thinks about why he does what he does when it has this effect on him. He thinks about the first time he'd been asked to take a life. He wasn't the one standing on the other end of a smoking steel barrel, slim forefinger curved right against the trigger, but that doesn't mean that he wasn't capable of ending a life. It was only a few weeks after he'd been inducted, but a folder had been slapped down in front of him. Sehun had looked up into the face of his superior in confusion at the profile contained between the manila flaps as he was instructed to delete all information and files that had ever existed on the man.
Hacking into the his employer and the government's databases had been easy; Sehun navigated their firewalls and security systems with ease. The hard part was when he realized that this man's life was literally being deleted, percentage by percentage in the progress bar on the dialogue box on his screen, and that it was happening right from his own fingertips. He'd asked his superior before delving into the project, "But why? This just looks like a normal guy, he has a life and everything." "He won't, soon," was the response he'd gotten back. Sehun had never forgotten that moment and the quiet chill that had run through him at those words. He was aware that murder and assassin had to happen - he was, after all, in a gang - but it never occurred to him that he would have to play a direct part in that. The hitmen took care of the physical termination of life; it was Sehun's job to make sure all virtual traces of targets were gone. People's entire lives, their job records, marital certificates, tax returns, criminal records, school reports, anything at all that had ever been recorded electronically (which, these days, was everything) were subject to destruction with a few taps of his fingers against a keyboard. It was like they never existed in the first place.
And while he held this offhand power to vicariously shred a life, Sehun also had the power of creation. He could type someone entirely new into existence, and they'd show up in government or company records just the same as everybody else. It was a handy tool for fake identities or cover stories, but it somehow didn't hold the same gravity as the eradication of a person's presence. The worst part of it all is that sometimes, Sehun thinks he enjoys the power, likes being able to control the future of anyone he wants, whenever he wants. One time he'd checked his own record out of pure curiosity; it was spotless, a testament to the quality of his work and elusiveness. He was unable to keep the smirk from creeping up around the normally unmoving line of his mouth and the feeling of pride swelling from within him. It gave him a rush that no amount of clubbing or alcohol could, and maybe that's why Sehun keeps doing what he is doing. Not for some kind of rash desire for living on the edge, but for the overwhelming sense of success and inexplicable satisfaction he gets from knowing that he can do this. He can do this, and the lines of the law had become much too constricting for his tastes - therefore, it was only natural that he venture beyond them. That was where Sehun was now, way beyond the border of conventional right and wrong, but still living life to the fullest according to his own definition.
He was going to continue to do so, and for anyone that was going to try and stop him...well, Sehun always enjoyed a good challenge, and maybe that's what makes him the most human out of everything.
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