new destructions.
@zeroxmi — continued from here ! TW BLOOD, BODY HORROR, MURDER, GUNS
the night is eclipsed with another bout of sonder. there are places to be, sometimes puffed in his mind like naked, lit cigarette. lungs seem to contract with carcinogen. the after dark voices are accompanied with siren sound from a distance, removed enough for him to forget that he’s a part of this pandemonium. it’s an entirely different sphere for him tonight, enclosing himself in a hyperfocused tension that stretches for too many meters. in here is someone else’s territory, too close to the lair that someone would deem as their rightful place. however, in this captivating crescendo of the night’s whisper, he doesn’t care about the breach. or, in fact, he does care due to the fact that he’s pissing someone off. treading into the competitor’s area is bad enough; worse is when he’s trying to capture the victim between his own teeth, trying to bite it off before the supposed man does.
he understands that it would mean aggravating someone, but isn’t that the purpose? the end goal. a sense of wildfire that spreads from the adrenaline. prepares his sniper gun, the scope of the aperture fixated towards the clause of this soon-to-be crime scene. he eyes the man’s presence within the periphery, knowing that he’d antagonize the other hitman by taking out the victim prior to the time allocated for it. but that’s the essence of his current standing, lurking in the shadows of an opponent’s territory for this. he blocks out the ambience in his surroundings, turning it into a static, white noise, concentrating on the whole act. his scheme unfolds itself, and he closes an eye as he fixes his attention to the victim, now seated in her chair. a ceo with too many competitors, and as soon as she dabbled into the underground world, she’d like to dip out with loaded secrets in her mouth. doesn’t work that way, sure, and this opponent is supposed to take her out in less than a minute now. he smirks underneath his mask before pulling the trigger, straight through the glass window, bullet slicing into the cranium, brain. split splat of blood. a clean shot, noticed by the supposed shadow. he lets his presence known by the other man before pulling back.
there’s a few things in the world that wonwoo can’t stomach; can’t stand. spiders, the dentist, frustratingly tiny boxes that his long, slender fingers can’t handle with ease— and someone stealing his fucking kill. it’s happened more times than he’d like to admit. he remembers a few years ago, the rivalries he had, the way he would have done anything to ensure a kill even if it meant putting his own life at risk. stupidly, recklessly, he would rush into the action, aggressively assert dominance he felt he deserved until the situation favoured him or his opponent fled the scene, laughing as they go. he was pitiful, pathetic— he can see why they would find him amusing. it didn’t mean that he particularly liked thinking about it, though, and going through it again now only brings all those feelings back to the surface. sure, the end goal is the same but being one-upped— it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
being one-upped in such a smug fashion, however, is something else entirely.
he doesn’t like guns. the mess left behind isn’t satisfying enough. a splatter at best, how boring. it seems his competitor has an affinity for them— a sniper if the distance is anything to go by. perhaps a jack of all trades. wonwoo doesn’t know and maybe that’s what frustrates him most. there’s no one he can think of off the top of his head that would do this, that wants to belittle him in this way specifically. so what’s the motive? what’s the point? just to sour his evening? why? revenge isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with and he’s sure there’s more than enough people on this island that would thrive seeing him suffer, but there’s no way he could have ever kept track of them all over the years. it could be anyone. there doesn’t even need to be a reason. maybe they’re just an asshole. he scowls in the direction of a moving shadow in a window a little distance away, decides in a split second whether to go looking.
( it’s not a hard decision; mingyu would want you to come home safe, he thinks, but also, I need answers. he follows. )