The Killer's Nightmare - Prologue
Jaejoong/Yunho, Yoochun/Junsu
The ultimate killer he is, but what is it that haunts him so?
The Killer's Nightmare; Prologue
Park Yoochun walked alongside the newest player of the organization, an arrogant man perhaps around two years younger than him. Yoochun straightened out his shirt and gestured towards the narrow corridor that led to ten other rooms - five on each side - and indicated that the other should follow.
He crinkled his nose. There was an unidentifiable odor plaguing the air, a corpse, maybe? He knew from experience that younger players had trouble getting rid of the corpses.
“Here, we are referred as players. Jobs are generally referred as runs,” he explained, occasionally glancing sideways at the other as they moved forward. Yoochun noticed this floor, of the four levels in the dormitory section, had the worst lighting that constantly flickered. It gave the place a dilapidated feel, neglected despite the apparent wealth of the organization.
Yoochun allowed himself a small smile as he passed room 38, the tarnished ‘8’ still hanging loose from its place on the door. The last time he passed by his old room was probably years ago, since he hadn’t resided on this floor for long.
Nostalgia set in but Yoochun knew better.
The past was always better left behind.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but do stop pulling down your jeans. Pull it further down and we’ll be seeing your red briefs,” said Yoochun, turning sharply to scrutinize at the younger man. The recruit looked away, anger already rising in his chest. Who was he to insult?
“I don’t care if you dislike me, but revealing your emotions so easily would get in your way during runs, more so when you’re impersonating or maybe undercover. Correct that,” said Yoochun when he sensed the tension, and caught the anger in 43’s vexed eyes. He was already beginning to regret volunteering to show 43 around - it was not a common practice, but only Yoochun’s personal sense of responsibility towards the younger one whom he’d forcibly dragged here a few hours ago.
Just as they were passing it, one of the doors swung open and its occupant stalked out, looking murderous with bloodshot eyes. He was wielding a bloodied long knife in his hand, and his composure reminded Yoochun of an animal. A short eye contact with Yoochun had him avert his eyes and slow his steps, and then he went on his way shortly after.
Yoochun failed to recognize the man, however.
He cleared his throat after stopping at the end of the corridor, wherein the obscure corner, was the last room “43”.
“This is your room for now. Don’t get yourself killed on the runs and you can hope to get a better room. Work hard to be sent on runs because that’s where you’ll earn a personal share of the money the client paid. Good luck,” he finished, quickly turning around to leave. The stench was beginning to nauseate.
“Wait,” the younger player called after a quick survey of the dirty, graffiti adorned walls around his new room. Yoochun stopped and pivoted around, giving the younger one a questioning look.
“The room number is somewhat…a rank, right?” asked the new guy. His voice was strangely dark, but Yoochun quickly dismissed it. He nodded an affirmative.
“Then who’s the top ranker? Or is there a directory where I can see everyone’s names and their ranks?”
“Curious, aren’t you?” Yoochun paused for a while, thinking carefully before he spoke. He was calculating how much information he should reveal. “No one cares to know the players below rank 3 so no, there is no directory. Since you asked anyway, the owner of room one goes by the name Hero.”
A peculiar expression passed from 43’s face, and Yoochun picked up something not quite right from the other’s demeanor.
“Just so you know, that man - piss him off and you'd be dead in two seconds. So don't try anything stupid, unless… well, unless suicide’s on your mind,” warned Yoochun. Shortly after, the vibration in his pants began again, and Yoochun knew he had to leave. He ran his hand through his hair out of habit, shot a last glance at the recruit, then finally left to meet the only concern in his world.
On the way out of the long corridor, he chided himself for his temporary paranoia.
43 was just a recruit. Harmless.
The ultimate killer he is, but what is it that haunts him so?
The Killer's Nightmare; Prologue
Park Yoochun walked alongside the newest player of the organization, an arrogant man perhaps around two years younger than him. Yoochun straightened out his shirt and gestured towards the narrow corridor that led to ten other rooms - five on each side - and indicated that the other should follow.
He crinkled his nose. There was an unidentifiable odor plaguing the air, a corpse, maybe? He knew from experience that younger players had trouble getting rid of the corpses.
“Here, we are referred as players. Jobs are generally referred as runs,” he explained, occasionally glancing sideways at the other as they moved forward. Yoochun noticed this floor, of the four levels in the dormitory section, had the worst lighting that constantly flickered. It gave the place a dilapidated feel, neglected despite the apparent wealth of the organization.
Yoochun allowed himself a small smile as he passed room 38, the tarnished ‘8’ still hanging loose from its place on the door. The last time he passed by his old room was probably years ago, since he hadn’t resided on this floor for long.
Nostalgia set in but Yoochun knew better.
The past was always better left behind.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but do stop pulling down your jeans. Pull it further down and we’ll be seeing your red briefs,” said Yoochun, turning sharply to scrutinize at the younger man. The recruit looked away, anger already rising in his chest. Who was he to insult?
“I don’t care if you dislike me, but revealing your emotions so easily would get in your way during runs, more so when you’re impersonating or maybe undercover. Correct that,” said Yoochun when he sensed the tension, and caught the anger in 43’s vexed eyes. He was already beginning to regret volunteering to show 43 around - it was not a common practice, but only Yoochun’s personal sense of responsibility towards the younger one whom he’d forcibly dragged here a few hours ago.
Just as they were passing it, one of the doors swung open and its occupant stalked out, looking murderous with bloodshot eyes. He was wielding a bloodied long knife in his hand, and his composure reminded Yoochun of an animal. A short eye contact with Yoochun had him avert his eyes and slow his steps, and then he went on his way shortly after.
Yoochun failed to recognize the man, however.
He cleared his throat after stopping at the end of the corridor, wherein the obscure corner, was the last room “43”.
“This is your room for now. Don’t get yourself killed on the runs and you can hope to get a better room. Work hard to be sent on runs because that’s where you’ll earn a personal share of the money the client paid. Good luck,” he finished, quickly turning around to leave. The stench was beginning to nauseate.
“Wait,” the younger player called after a quick survey of the dirty, graffiti adorned walls around his new room. Yoochun stopped and pivoted around, giving the younger one a questioning look.
“The room number is somewhat…a rank, right?” asked the new guy. His voice was strangely dark, but Yoochun quickly dismissed it. He nodded an affirmative.
“Then who’s the top ranker? Or is there a directory where I can see everyone’s names and their ranks?”
“Curious, aren’t you?” Yoochun paused for a while, thinking carefully before he spoke. He was calculating how much information he should reveal. “No one cares to know the players below rank 3 so no, there is no directory. Since you asked anyway, the owner of room one goes by the name Hero.”
A peculiar expression passed from 43’s face, and Yoochun picked up something not quite right from the other’s demeanor.
“Just so you know, that man - piss him off and you'd be dead in two seconds. So don't try anything stupid, unless… well, unless suicide’s on your mind,” warned Yoochun. Shortly after, the vibration in his pants began again, and Yoochun knew he had to leave. He ran his hand through his hair out of habit, shot a last glance at the recruit, then finally left to meet the only concern in his world.
On the way out of the long corridor, he chided himself for his temporary paranoia.
43 was just a recruit. Harmless.