Messes | Jihoon&LJoe
Jihoon, sometimes, wishes for a higher class of goon. They either seem to come in two forms, the ratty ones - they like to shoot of their mouths yet when it comes to the crunch they're cowards, or the meat heads. Big, brave, but stupid. As he gazes from one foot soldier to the other, he realises that he has two very stupid meat heads on his hands. "Boss..." one of them tries to reason with him, with just one word, as they see the demon tug lightly at the cuff of his leather glove. They both know that when those things come off, you don't want to be around.
With a disappointed sigh, Jihoon gazes down at the government representative, beaten, blooded and tied to a chair, very dead. "What happened?" He asks as he tries to remain calm, when in reality what now sits in front of him is a great, big headache. "Wuh-wuh-well.." one of them starts to stumble over his words as he tries to explain, voice deep and Jihoon isn't sure if he's nervous or just incredibly dumb. "We just tied him up like you said, boss, hit him a few times and, he kinda stopped moving-!" The man shrugs, as if he cannot tie these two happenings together. With another sigh, probably the first few of many tonight, the mobster pinches the bridge of his nose, still trying to remain calm as his eyes close. Above him, the singular, bare bulb on a long wire swings backwards and forwards, creating menacing shadows in the large, empty warehouse building they had picked for the scene of this interrogation turn murder. "What did you hit him with?" Jihoon asks, voice remaining level, somehow.
"Just our hands!" The second, closest to him, answers, before he lifts his fist, metal knuckle duster sitting on his knuckles proudly, the man's blood still dirtying the grooves.
"You idiot!" Jihoon quickly roars, reaching out to slap the man at the back of the head, making him stumble forward with a slight, grumbled curse before he shuffles away, rubbing his wound. "He's a 60 year old man!" The boss continues, gesturing to the corpse before he groans loudly, realising what he has to do. This plan went from useful extortion of information, his personal preference instead to bribery, to a very inconvenient mess in no time. Pulling out his phone he points to his goons warningly with a growl of "I will deal with you later.." before he turns away to fire off a quick text he did not want to have to send. The address to a number with no name, before he fishes out his box of cigarettes. At this rate, he's going to miss his show on TV and this mess could end up costing him a lot.
celxljoe
