Point Zero --PROLOGUE
Title: Point Zero
Chapters: ?
Genre: Angst, Drama, Thriller, Yaoi
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Yoosu, Yunjae, Changmin/?
Summary: Two people from different sides of the law. Brought together by murder. And both are wanted. Dead.
A/N: I miss writing crime related things, so here is one. And I miss yoosu. I know how many chapters there are, but just to make it more interesting... I'm not telling. I've no idea how this will go, but I hope it's good. Better. AND yes, I'm still writing the others, no matter how little the fans are, I still feel obliged to write.
Chapter 0.0
The seedy motel didn’t make him bat an eyelash. With the mouldy walls beside the entrance door, it looked run down. Small black plotches of what looked like grounded cigarette on the other side of the wall. The glass windows were dusty and painted with dried rain.
He inhaled his cigarette for the last time before grounding down between his boots and the gravelled road. There weren’t any glass door to greet him, so he just walked in, straight towards the counter where the large women sat. Her heavy make-up looked slightly cakey in an attempt to cover the aging lines webbing at the edge of her mouth, forehead and eyes. Her lips were painted in blood red which made her looked more like a clown with oversized lips.
She was too busy filing her nails with the emery board to notice him standing in front of her, leaning against the counter. He took that time to look around, see where the keys were placed. In a transparent box behind her. The cash register was right beside her. No security cameras. Just the way he liked it.
“Excuse me.” He asked with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m looking for Kim Sungmo.”
“I ain’t going to tell ya anything, boy.” She shook her hands at him, waving him to move away.
“Please. I’m relative. It’s important I see him.” He gripped the edge of the counter in an attmept of a desperate look.
“Can’t help ya, boy.” She flicked a gaze at his face. Most probably was thinking if he was telling the truth.
Seeing that nothing would budge if he didn’t do something, he pulled out a few bills enough to pay three visits to the ER, consultation fees included. The clown of a lady looked up and smirked. He slid the money across and she took it swiftly, greedily.
“He’s in room three-oh-one.” She smiled. “I hope whatever you’re going to tell him goes alright.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, tight-lipped. “It will.”
Two steps at a time and he was on the third floor in under a minute. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time. The walk to room three-oh-one was a breeze. Two doors down had him facing a slightly battered door. He pressed his ears to the door, listening for any hints of movement. Sensing none, he slid a blank credit card between the door frame and the door. He swiped it up hard, knocking off the lock. Good that it worked, or he’ll have to the the other way of lock-picking.
The door gave way easily. One hand was positoned on the left hip, just above the butt of his gun. The other hand poked at cupboards and bathroom that was in view first, which came up empty. Good. A light snore told him what he needed to know.
He stalked further inside. The man was sleeping face up, wrinkled like a dried tomato. Ih his sleep, the man looked so normal. So innocent. His white hair glimmered under the peeking light from the moonlight. But he knew better. He lifted his gun. Shot thrice. To his heart.
Blood began pooling. He put on his latex gloves, rummaged through the nightstand where he knew there would be a gun. A man like him would bring a gun with him. Scumbag needed protection. He lifted the gun and placed in the man’s right hand, over his chest.
Once he’d inspected, just in case something looked abnormal, he made his way out, careful to lock the door from the outside with his lock-picking kit. As he made his way down the flight of steps, he pulled off his gloves and slid them in the pockets of his jacket. He pulled the hoods over his head, and walked pass the counter, with the clown oblivious to his exit. He made a zip to his car. He punched the accelerator. Darted out of the parking lot the next second.
To be continued...
A/N: I don't how confident I am about this fic, but I think it'll be interesting... but it's up to you to read or not...
AND please join secretpandora if you're interested!
Chapters: ?
Genre: Angst, Drama, Thriller, Yaoi
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Yoosu, Yunjae, Changmin/?
Summary: Two people from different sides of the law. Brought together by murder. And both are wanted. Dead.
A/N: I miss writing crime related things, so here is one. And I miss yoosu. I know how many chapters there are, but just to make it more interesting... I'm not telling. I've no idea how this will go, but I hope it's good. Better. AND yes, I'm still writing the others, no matter how little the fans are, I still feel obliged to write.
Chapter 0.0
The seedy motel didn’t make him bat an eyelash. With the mouldy walls beside the entrance door, it looked run down. Small black plotches of what looked like grounded cigarette on the other side of the wall. The glass windows were dusty and painted with dried rain.
He inhaled his cigarette for the last time before grounding down between his boots and the gravelled road. There weren’t any glass door to greet him, so he just walked in, straight towards the counter where the large women sat. Her heavy make-up looked slightly cakey in an attempt to cover the aging lines webbing at the edge of her mouth, forehead and eyes. Her lips were painted in blood red which made her looked more like a clown with oversized lips.
She was too busy filing her nails with the emery board to notice him standing in front of her, leaning against the counter. He took that time to look around, see where the keys were placed. In a transparent box behind her. The cash register was right beside her. No security cameras. Just the way he liked it.
“Excuse me.” He asked with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m looking for Kim Sungmo.”
“I ain’t going to tell ya anything, boy.” She shook her hands at him, waving him to move away.
“Please. I’m relative. It’s important I see him.” He gripped the edge of the counter in an attmept of a desperate look.
“Can’t help ya, boy.” She flicked a gaze at his face. Most probably was thinking if he was telling the truth.
Seeing that nothing would budge if he didn’t do something, he pulled out a few bills enough to pay three visits to the ER, consultation fees included. The clown of a lady looked up and smirked. He slid the money across and she took it swiftly, greedily.
“He’s in room three-oh-one.” She smiled. “I hope whatever you’re going to tell him goes alright.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, tight-lipped. “It will.”
Two steps at a time and he was on the third floor in under a minute. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time. The walk to room three-oh-one was a breeze. Two doors down had him facing a slightly battered door. He pressed his ears to the door, listening for any hints of movement. Sensing none, he slid a blank credit card between the door frame and the door. He swiped it up hard, knocking off the lock. Good that it worked, or he’ll have to the the other way of lock-picking.
The door gave way easily. One hand was positoned on the left hip, just above the butt of his gun. The other hand poked at cupboards and bathroom that was in view first, which came up empty. Good. A light snore told him what he needed to know.
He stalked further inside. The man was sleeping face up, wrinkled like a dried tomato. Ih his sleep, the man looked so normal. So innocent. His white hair glimmered under the peeking light from the moonlight. But he knew better. He lifted his gun. Shot thrice. To his heart.
Blood began pooling. He put on his latex gloves, rummaged through the nightstand where he knew there would be a gun. A man like him would bring a gun with him. Scumbag needed protection. He lifted the gun and placed in the man’s right hand, over his chest.
Once he’d inspected, just in case something looked abnormal, he made his way out, careful to lock the door from the outside with his lock-picking kit. As he made his way down the flight of steps, he pulled off his gloves and slid them in the pockets of his jacket. He pulled the hoods over his head, and walked pass the counter, with the clown oblivious to his exit. He made a zip to his car. He punched the accelerator. Darted out of the parking lot the next second.
To be continued...
A/N: I don't how confident I am about this fic, but I think it'll be interesting... but it's up to you to read or not...
AND please join secretpandora if you're interested!