Contact Shot
Title: Contact Shot
Author: moi
Pairing: JongKey
Genre: AU
Rating: R
Disclaimer: SME owns pretty boys and I own words. Talk about unfairness.
Summary: His eyes closed, the smallest of prayers on his lips, finger on the trigger. Jonghyun may be an assassin, but he's not disrespectful.
A/N: Remember me? 8D? I guess you can think of this as an introduction to a universe I'm considering working on, later this summer. I don't know. I'd really love to hear your thoughts! ♥
Jonghyun takes the turn to the alley beside the house at 2:30 a.m. He strolls casually, knowing the chances of being seen are slim to none - he should know; after a week of surveillance, he's sure the whole neighbourhood is fast asleep by now.
Air falls softly onto his uncovered face for probably the first night this year, and it's a pleasant feeling. Being smothered by the ski mask for yet another spring would greatly disappoint him. Barely sneaking a glance around, he silently climbs up the dumpster by the wall. His feet step onto some loose bricks and the bathroom window makes way for him no more than two minutes later. He's been gradually tinkering with its opening for days now.
He slips through the window and lands on the floor with one swift movement, hard leather gloves squeaking against the tiles; he cringes and pauses, still crouched.
As soon as he can hear nothing but his own heartbeat, he stands up, closing his previous entrance and taking a moment with his eyes closed. The building plans come up in his head.
Ground floor is useless, only holding the main hall, kitchen, living and dining room. Now, the first floor, this one is the most exciting. Guest room is right next to the bathroom. Down the corridor is the office. Opposite of it, on the left side of the staircase is the master bedroom, neighbouring the third and final bedroom of the whole house.
It's easy, really. Routine, almost. Angered soon-to-be ex-wife is out of the country for supposed business. Make it look like a theft, she said while paying a generous amount of money up-front, and declining a job like that would be plain stupid. So he got all he needed (detailed descriptions of the building, some basic information on the mark), and started studying patterns.
Today's a Friday, meaning the guy hit the pillows the moment he got back from the meeting, at 23:27 p.m. He didn't even order take-out, he was too smashed to call. Jonghyun will never understand how certain businessmen always end up drunk.
But whatever, time's a-ticking.
The lighting is extremely poor, but he's mostly used to it all, so it's no surprise when he successfully approaches the door. Reaching for the round handle, he relies on the absence of light coming from the crack underneath the door, and the perfect silence that rings in his ears. With a confident twist of the wrist, his feet now step onto wooden flooring.
On a different occasion, he'd actually admit the house is neatly decorated. Nothing too much, but still expensive-looking. That's the kind of place he'd like to live in.
He moves along, steps mostly silent -he takes pride in his stealth skills- and mind always alert, eyes scanning his surroundings. He's almost past the guest room when noise coming from the office makes him freeze. A stack of CDs falling. A hissed fuck.
Fuck, indeed.
He should have seen this coming, honestly.
He quickly rushes over to the wall connecting the two doors and sticks his back against it. It's the kid. He actually had problems trying to figure out his schedule and sleep pattern, but didn't really believe he'd have a problem with that. Not like there's much harm done, though.
The room's lights go on. Anything that fell sounds like it's getting picked up.
Jonghyun stomps his foot on purpose.
"Dad?" the kid whispers, and Jonghyun remains silent, lingering by the door. He waits, mostly listens, until everything goes as planned. The boy's head pops out, along with the whole damn rainbow that's currently taking over his hair, and his eyes widen just as they fall on Jonghyun's face. He doesn't have enough time to be shocked, though, considering Jonghyun covers his mouth and has him twisted and pressed against the wall in fractions of a second. Well, curiosity killed the cat.
His one hand locked around two thin wrists and the other one clasped tight over two lips, Jonghyun can still feel intensity, the other struggling against him. He just presses closer to his back. "I'll just have you know I could snap your neck like a toothpick," he says calmly, practically into the boy's skin, even though he's far from doing anything like that. The contract doesn't mention him.
The kid mostly stops, his black eyes taking in all of Jonghyun's face until they lock on his stare. Jonghyun's been told that his features aren't that memorable, but his eyes are.
Nothing much happens for two or three long seconds, things just stay the way they are until Jonghyun breathes out a Goodnight. His fingers snap against the underside of the boy's chin and that's really all. It took him one week to figure him out and one second to render him unconscious.
Next thing he knows, there's a body completely limp in his arms, definitely not dead, but surely knocked out for the next few hours to come. He just scoops him up -and really, he's even lighter than he seems, that... Kibum, is it?- and carries him over to his bedroom. He sets him down on the mattress and lets him be, soon leaving the room.
Granted, the present left behind for him when he wakes up won't be that pretty, but at least he'll still be alive. That's big, if you ask Jonghyun.
And now, without further ado... he thinks, rolling his shoulders, and momentarily pauses outside the master bedroom.
The handle turns around smoothly, emitting no sound as the door parts open. He steps in and studies the place the best he can, eyes focusing on the sleeping figure. The guy is lying on his stomach, not a care in the world as he snores away. Jonghyun likes heavy sleepers.
In seconds, his hand is already closing around his suppressed Ruger MK II, tucked carefully in the holster around his thigh. As he approaches the bed surely and steadily, safety being released and pistol coming up in between the mark's eyebrows, it's all routine. His eyes closed, the smallest of prayers on his lips, finger on the trigger. Jonghyun may be an assassin, but he's not disrespectful.
A soft click.
Withdrawing, he only stays in place to watch the blood flow stop. Done and done.
Now all that's really left is pocketing the empty cartridge left behind. Spending five minutes to mess the place up a bit. Picking up anything light and valuable looking. He's not going to keep any of it, though. Merely get it out of the house; ditch it somewhere; burn it.
And then? Then he leaves.
The thief lost track of time, the news will report the next day, panicked at the very last moment and left in a hurry, after having taken treasured possessions, as well as the 43-year-old man's life. Jonghyun can hear it in his head, loud and clear, as he walks back the way he came. The victim's son, the unlucky person to have discovered the body, claims to not have witnessed anything.
He leaves the bathroom window open on purpose, climbs down the dumpster and, just as confidently as before, he strolls away, walking those ten minutes that would get him back to his car.
And when he starts the car, the engine complaining just a little bit, he zooms off with that feeling of accomplishment in his gut. So he drives, heading out of town, disposing of gun parts, gloves and "stolen" items at random intervals. After finally feeling free, he looks at his own reflection on the rear-view mirror. A hand comes up to ruffle his hair, sprayed raven to conceal bright blonde tips and brown roots.
His mind wanders to fresh memories of building plans, blood and a certain young face.
He doesn't know when or how or even why, but he's assured of it, in a twisted, poetic way - they'll meet again.
→ next.
Author: moi
Pairing: JongKey
Genre: AU
Rating: R
Disclaimer: SME owns pretty boys and I own words. Talk about unfairness.
Summary: His eyes closed, the smallest of prayers on his lips, finger on the trigger. Jonghyun may be an assassin, but he's not disrespectful.
A/N: Remember me? 8D? I guess you can think of this as an introduction to a universe I'm considering working on, later this summer. I don't know. I'd really love to hear your thoughts! ♥
Jonghyun takes the turn to the alley beside the house at 2:30 a.m. He strolls casually, knowing the chances of being seen are slim to none - he should know; after a week of surveillance, he's sure the whole neighbourhood is fast asleep by now.
Air falls softly onto his uncovered face for probably the first night this year, and it's a pleasant feeling. Being smothered by the ski mask for yet another spring would greatly disappoint him. Barely sneaking a glance around, he silently climbs up the dumpster by the wall. His feet step onto some loose bricks and the bathroom window makes way for him no more than two minutes later. He's been gradually tinkering with its opening for days now.
He slips through the window and lands on the floor with one swift movement, hard leather gloves squeaking against the tiles; he cringes and pauses, still crouched.
As soon as he can hear nothing but his own heartbeat, he stands up, closing his previous entrance and taking a moment with his eyes closed. The building plans come up in his head.
Ground floor is useless, only holding the main hall, kitchen, living and dining room. Now, the first floor, this one is the most exciting. Guest room is right next to the bathroom. Down the corridor is the office. Opposite of it, on the left side of the staircase is the master bedroom, neighbouring the third and final bedroom of the whole house.
It's easy, really. Routine, almost. Angered soon-to-be ex-wife is out of the country for supposed business. Make it look like a theft, she said while paying a generous amount of money up-front, and declining a job like that would be plain stupid. So he got all he needed (detailed descriptions of the building, some basic information on the mark), and started studying patterns.
Today's a Friday, meaning the guy hit the pillows the moment he got back from the meeting, at 23:27 p.m. He didn't even order take-out, he was too smashed to call. Jonghyun will never understand how certain businessmen always end up drunk.
But whatever, time's a-ticking.
The lighting is extremely poor, but he's mostly used to it all, so it's no surprise when he successfully approaches the door. Reaching for the round handle, he relies on the absence of light coming from the crack underneath the door, and the perfect silence that rings in his ears. With a confident twist of the wrist, his feet now step onto wooden flooring.
On a different occasion, he'd actually admit the house is neatly decorated. Nothing too much, but still expensive-looking. That's the kind of place he'd like to live in.
He moves along, steps mostly silent -he takes pride in his stealth skills- and mind always alert, eyes scanning his surroundings. He's almost past the guest room when noise coming from the office makes him freeze. A stack of CDs falling. A hissed fuck.
Fuck, indeed.
He should have seen this coming, honestly.
He quickly rushes over to the wall connecting the two doors and sticks his back against it. It's the kid. He actually had problems trying to figure out his schedule and sleep pattern, but didn't really believe he'd have a problem with that. Not like there's much harm done, though.
The room's lights go on. Anything that fell sounds like it's getting picked up.
Jonghyun stomps his foot on purpose.
"Dad?" the kid whispers, and Jonghyun remains silent, lingering by the door. He waits, mostly listens, until everything goes as planned. The boy's head pops out, along with the whole damn rainbow that's currently taking over his hair, and his eyes widen just as they fall on Jonghyun's face. He doesn't have enough time to be shocked, though, considering Jonghyun covers his mouth and has him twisted and pressed against the wall in fractions of a second. Well, curiosity killed the cat.
His one hand locked around two thin wrists and the other one clasped tight over two lips, Jonghyun can still feel intensity, the other struggling against him. He just presses closer to his back. "I'll just have you know I could snap your neck like a toothpick," he says calmly, practically into the boy's skin, even though he's far from doing anything like that. The contract doesn't mention him.
The kid mostly stops, his black eyes taking in all of Jonghyun's face until they lock on his stare. Jonghyun's been told that his features aren't that memorable, but his eyes are.
Nothing much happens for two or three long seconds, things just stay the way they are until Jonghyun breathes out a Goodnight. His fingers snap against the underside of the boy's chin and that's really all. It took him one week to figure him out and one second to render him unconscious.
Next thing he knows, there's a body completely limp in his arms, definitely not dead, but surely knocked out for the next few hours to come. He just scoops him up -and really, he's even lighter than he seems, that... Kibum, is it?- and carries him over to his bedroom. He sets him down on the mattress and lets him be, soon leaving the room.
Granted, the present left behind for him when he wakes up won't be that pretty, but at least he'll still be alive. That's big, if you ask Jonghyun.
And now, without further ado... he thinks, rolling his shoulders, and momentarily pauses outside the master bedroom.
The handle turns around smoothly, emitting no sound as the door parts open. He steps in and studies the place the best he can, eyes focusing on the sleeping figure. The guy is lying on his stomach, not a care in the world as he snores away. Jonghyun likes heavy sleepers.
In seconds, his hand is already closing around his suppressed Ruger MK II, tucked carefully in the holster around his thigh. As he approaches the bed surely and steadily, safety being released and pistol coming up in between the mark's eyebrows, it's all routine. His eyes closed, the smallest of prayers on his lips, finger on the trigger. Jonghyun may be an assassin, but he's not disrespectful.
A soft click.
Withdrawing, he only stays in place to watch the blood flow stop. Done and done.
Now all that's really left is pocketing the empty cartridge left behind. Spending five minutes to mess the place up a bit. Picking up anything light and valuable looking. He's not going to keep any of it, though. Merely get it out of the house; ditch it somewhere; burn it.
And then? Then he leaves.
The thief lost track of time, the news will report the next day, panicked at the very last moment and left in a hurry, after having taken treasured possessions, as well as the 43-year-old man's life. Jonghyun can hear it in his head, loud and clear, as he walks back the way he came. The victim's son, the unlucky person to have discovered the body, claims to not have witnessed anything.
He leaves the bathroom window open on purpose, climbs down the dumpster and, just as confidently as before, he strolls away, walking those ten minutes that would get him back to his car.
And when he starts the car, the engine complaining just a little bit, he zooms off with that feeling of accomplishment in his gut. So he drives, heading out of town, disposing of gun parts, gloves and "stolen" items at random intervals. After finally feeling free, he looks at his own reflection on the rear-view mirror. A hand comes up to ruffle his hair, sprayed raven to conceal bright blonde tips and brown roots.
His mind wanders to fresh memories of building plans, blood and a certain young face.
He doesn't know when or how or even why, but he's assured of it, in a twisted, poetic way - they'll meet again.
→ next.