Die Spielerin - Prologue
A/N: *gasp!* I'm attempting a chaptered fic! Praise the Lord, it's a miracle. Chaptered fics are my weakest area (as i'm sure y'all have noticed). Anyway, I hope everyone is well and good. Enjoy this little experiment!
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There is no love in a world run by money.
Taking a final drag from her menthol, she crushes the cigarette beneath the heel of her boot against the cracked pavement. A brisk brush of wind whisks by and she pulls her pea coat tighter; such is to be expected when you’re standing on the roof of a 50 story building.
She takes her scarf and dabs at crimson stained cheeks; the blood is still fresh.
She thinks back to twenty minutes ago:
---
Park Woo Bin. Age 29. Two counts of murder and one count of sexual assault - she read his profile: little boys, less than four years of age. 5pm, daycare ended - out at the park for a good time. Taken when their mother merely blinked.
A predatory pervert; she balled her fist upon first hearing about it. But tonight he would get his.
She smirked, it was too easy.
She broke through the decrepit door and tentatively took a step in. It was pitch black, silent save for the hum of a ceiling fan overhead. Her head snapped straight up towards the armoire.
Someone was in there.
Deliberately desecrating the etched design, she ripped apart the aperture and found a small shrewd man hunched in the corner; the whites of his eyes shown in the darkness and he smelled of fear.
“Y-You’re…you’re Spielrein!”
Removing the tie from her waist, she gazed downward - unfazed and undeterred.
“And you’re dead.”
A struggle silenced in the dead of night, she threw him out of the armoire, his body landing on faded foodstains and old ornate patterns. Belly on the ground, she pressed her boot against his lower back and leaned down; her breath was thick with malice.
“Game over.”
Wrapping an end around each of her hands, she brought the tie underneath the man’s neck; excess skin cascading crudely over the article. She yanked the tie backwards as Park gagged and groped the stale air in front of him (so pitiful). She pulled as far as she could until she heard that all too familiar satisfying snap.
She walked around the corridor until she arrived at the kitchen. Grabbing a butcher’s knife, she came back to the body; a fitting end to a filthy swine.
She lacked precision, that much was true. Still, nothing was quite as amusing as cutting up the corpses and putting them on display; it was a game she liked to play with the law enforcement.
---
Spielrein hears sirens in the distance - she needs to vacate the vicinity. Taking the charcoal beanie from her pea coat pocket, she brushes away stray blonde locks and puts it on. She gazes down at the ground and it one swift movement she’s gone - disappearing again into the city’s lackluster lights.
Perhaps one day she’ll slip up and they’ll catch her; her time is ticking tediously towards The End.
They’re afraid of her - even Kwon admitted it; she knows how to play The Game and she plays it well (too well for some). No laws passed, no assassins sent, no mention of money can deter her duty to defend the remains of a city she once knew.
Never compromise - not even when the world is wrought asunder.
______________________________________________________________________________
There is no love in a world run by money.
Taking a final drag from her menthol, she crushes the cigarette beneath the heel of her boot against the cracked pavement. A brisk brush of wind whisks by and she pulls her pea coat tighter; such is to be expected when you’re standing on the roof of a 50 story building.
She takes her scarf and dabs at crimson stained cheeks; the blood is still fresh.
She thinks back to twenty minutes ago:
---
Park Woo Bin. Age 29. Two counts of murder and one count of sexual assault - she read his profile: little boys, less than four years of age. 5pm, daycare ended - out at the park for a good time. Taken when their mother merely blinked.
A predatory pervert; she balled her fist upon first hearing about it. But tonight he would get his.
She smirked, it was too easy.
She broke through the decrepit door and tentatively took a step in. It was pitch black, silent save for the hum of a ceiling fan overhead. Her head snapped straight up towards the armoire.
Someone was in there.
Deliberately desecrating the etched design, she ripped apart the aperture and found a small shrewd man hunched in the corner; the whites of his eyes shown in the darkness and he smelled of fear.
“Y-You’re…you’re Spielrein!”
Removing the tie from her waist, she gazed downward - unfazed and undeterred.
“And you’re dead.”
A struggle silenced in the dead of night, she threw him out of the armoire, his body landing on faded foodstains and old ornate patterns. Belly on the ground, she pressed her boot against his lower back and leaned down; her breath was thick with malice.
“Game over.”
Wrapping an end around each of her hands, she brought the tie underneath the man’s neck; excess skin cascading crudely over the article. She yanked the tie backwards as Park gagged and groped the stale air in front of him (so pitiful). She pulled as far as she could until she heard that all too familiar satisfying snap.
She walked around the corridor until she arrived at the kitchen. Grabbing a butcher’s knife, she came back to the body; a fitting end to a filthy swine.
She lacked precision, that much was true. Still, nothing was quite as amusing as cutting up the corpses and putting them on display; it was a game she liked to play with the law enforcement.
---
Spielrein hears sirens in the distance - she needs to vacate the vicinity. Taking the charcoal beanie from her pea coat pocket, she brushes away stray blonde locks and puts it on. She gazes down at the ground and it one swift movement she’s gone - disappearing again into the city’s lackluster lights.
Perhaps one day she’ll slip up and they’ll catch her; her time is ticking tediously towards The End.
They’re afraid of her - even Kwon admitted it; she knows how to play The Game and she plays it well (too well for some). No laws passed, no assassins sent, no mention of money can deter her duty to defend the remains of a city she once knew.
Never compromise - not even when the world is wrought asunder.