`` different levels of pride
Date: 02/01/13
Location: Central Jeju
The horrible luck she had with this mission caught her off-guard, each failed attempt to get close to the news anchor without detection gnawing away at her confidence. It would be simple for her to gain access if she used her abilities but she had to be sure nothing could be traced back to her and the person that the reporter seemed to have hired for protection was gifted. After heavy research with Doug's help yet again, she learned that the bodyguard was indeed mutant and could sense the presence of other mutants. Along with a background in several martial arts, the person was often hired for such jobs.
Doug stared at Jiyoon befuddled when he noticed the amused smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Isn't that bad news..?" He asked hesitantly, hand hovering over the mouse as he felt reluctant to change the tab, not sure if she was done reading or not.
"It can be," she replied a minute or so later, in which Doug transitioned in a state of panic. Watching Jiyoon behead her last target had taken its toll on him and he felt less inclined to act freely around her. How she had played the assistant gave him cause for concern that he might be next. "She's...crafty. I like it."
"What?"
"Doug, you can find out..."
—
The following day when the news anchor had showed up for a fitting for the next week's broadcasts, he found himself struggling to control his appetite. Hands clamping down over his stomach as it constricted, growls loud enough to be heard outside the dressing room emanating from his torso.
"Dongrim, I need...food."
"Excuse me, sir?" He crossed the room, holding out a hand as the other fell and he was shoved away, back colliding with one of the clothing racks. "Sir, I'd advise you not to go alone. Sir!"
He hadn't intentionally ignored the calls from not only his recently hired help but the attendants of the dressing room and those in the lobby as he ran out, desperate for food. If he didn't consume something fast, he honestly felt as if he was going to die, the tightening of his stomach worsening with each forced step he took.
To make matters worse, nothing nearby seemed open. The stands outside the building were closed for some odd reason and restaurants claimed to be closed to return at a later time. Breaking off into a sprint, he found himself outside a disheveled small restaurant and it could hardly be distinguished as one unless within a close distance, the smell wafting into his nose. In a near delirious state, he sat himself at the closest table, demanding to have snacks or appetizers brought right away.
To his undeniable luck, a "waitress" approached him with food within seconds of his command and, without so much as a second glance, he began to devour it, hands digging in voraciously, not bothering with utensils or to notice that he was no longer seated alone. The "waitress" sat across from him, arms crossed and what he believed to be a smug smile on her face. "Who— are— you?" He asked between bites, clumps of what she could hardly tell was rice and kimchi stuffed in his cheeks.
"That's not important right now— although a napkin would be nice" she mumbled softly under her breath, glancing away as he proceeded to add more to the portion of food already in his mouth. As he asked what again, she shook her head and was about to slide a folder over to him to look over but, upon inspection of his state, she decided against it. Taking the contents of the folder out for herself, she placed photo after photo down, explaining first the crime and then the transgression of the events. As she expected, an extremely exclusive look into the death of a recent artist and the "evidence" — not that he needed to know she had been framed — along with the possibility for future exclusives into mysterious murders would tempt the news anchor into siding with her and, ultimately, with the renegades. After all, all the public wants is a good story and all a news anchor wants is the public's attention.
"By the way," he began to ask, dabbing at his lips with a napkin and groaning slightly at the stains along his tie as he glanced down. "How did you know to find me here?"
"You didn't think you suddenly gained an uncontrollable appetite without some help, did you?"
His eyes widened and as quickly as his jaw fell, he brought it back up again, lips curving into a smile as he laughed. "That's something."
"I had to get you away from your..."
"Goon?"
"If you say so."
"Well, he hasn't found me yet."
"He might be a tad distracted." She admitted, gathering the papers together and adding the usb to the folder before handing it to him. "Traffic can be killer these days."
"All this effort...what if I didn't agree?"
"Well..." Smirking, Jiyoon held up a small digital camera, flicking it towards him for good measure. "I was going to convince you otherwise. I'm sure there's some pictures no one wants getting out. We all have our pride, you know."
"And what of yours?"
"Mine?" She pushed the folder into his chest, forcing him to take it and grunt softly as he fell a step or two back. "Mine was getting you."
With an amused look of his own, he soon left and they parted ways, the anchor thinking of how to best present his new story. It wasn't too often one could have a direct video of the suspect committing a crime and passionately proclaiming hate for the victim.
It was just the kind of story to ring in the new year.