(no subject)
Title: Apologia Pro Vita Sua (Chapter 12)
Authors: Scorpions angelinaii, murasaki_plum, nemesis_cry
Characters/Pairings: All (kangteuk, shichul, kihae; potential kyuwook, eunkihae, shihanchul, yeshdong, yewook, minry)
Rating: PG-13 to R
Genre: AU, organized crime, postcyberpunk
Summary: In a world where money and crime go hand and hand, survival is not determined by the fittest, but the ones who will fight to live.
Warnings: violence, swearing, sexual situations
Introduction and Chapter 1 | Chapters 2 & 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11
Banner by angelinaii
A hand tightened around his neck, blocking his airflow with very little effort. Eyes falling shut, Kibum struggled, trapped between the oppressing hand and the hard, unyielding wall. At this rate, he figured he'd be dead in minutes. Most unfortunate, considering the goon had asked him a very pertinent question and he hated to go out with business pending.
"Where's the money, huh?" The question came again, his nod unseen. At least he imagined he nodded; another interesting factor of being strangled to death happened to be a loss of consciousness, vision going blurry on the world.
It would be the H & E's loss, in the end, anyway. The money was safe but out of their reach, unless he survived to tell the tale. Torture would've worked much better to that effect, Kibum thought, surprising himself with the clarity of his judgment even on the brink of death.
A hand appeared out of nowhere, tapping the goon on the shoulder. But far from being the big boss, it turned out to belong to a kid, smiling brightly as if he hadn't been witnessing a murder.
"It could just be my imagination, but I think he's trying to answer you." A shrug. "Not that I'm surprised. Small brain like yours, you probably figured dead before or after he tells you is just the same, right? Real clever."
Mercifully, the hand around his throat relaxed somewhat, but not because the goon had any concern about his well being. Rather, he darted a glance over his shoulder, position leaving him at a disadvantage, even from Kibum's point of view. "Who're you?" he scowled, appraising the kid.
"Sungmin," he smiled. "I'd say nice to meet you, but you're going to be dead in about fifteen seconds, so... I guess there's no point in lying."
Kibum slid to the ground abruptly, the goon turning to face his savior, fists clenched. In different circumstances, Kibum would've tried to return the favor; considering he was still making an effort to recover his breath, he figured he might as well give up the thought this time around.
"You think you can take me on, kid?" sounded from above, the man's figure a dark spot of color through misty vision. "Keep on dreaming..."
The kid took a step back, then another, hardly afraid. Instead, he looked almost to be luring the goon away and into the center of the room. It was only after he blinked a few more times that Kibum realized a handle poking from between the goon's neck and shoulder, too short to be noticed out of the corner of the man's eye. The man wobbled on shaky legs for a short moment, hands outstretched in confusion before collapsing to his knees, head falling to the ground with a dull smack.
"Okay," the kid sighed, shrugging thin, tattooed shoulders. "So I lied about the fifteen seconds." Kneeling by the man's body, he tried to pull out the knife embedded in the corpse's shoulders, promptly giving up when it wouldn't come out. "Guess you're staying in then," he muttered, oblivious to Kibum as he began going through the man's pockets. A petty thief? Kibum wondered. Hardly. Too professional.
"What did you do to him?" he found himself asking, curiosity getting the better of him.
The boy looked up, a bright smile on his lips. "Icepick between the first two vertebrae. Punctured his heart and opened his lung all in one go. It's quick and painless. Well, mostly." He rattled off the process as he would a lesson about something trivial like history or mathematics, his hands busy leafing over bills and ID cards in the goon's wallet. "Sorry I'm late. Would have been here earlier but my liaison crashed our car coming off the bridge." A shake of the head that did nothing to dispel his smile as he stood and walked over to Kibum. "He drives like a maniac. Anyway, I got here on time. You're still kicking."
Barely, Kibum acknowledged, using the wall as leverage to pull himself back to his feet. "Not to sound ungrateful, but... who in God's name are you and what do you want?"
A hand wrapped around his middle to help him walk, the kid only grinned. "Call me your guardian angel."
"Right," Kibum winced, accepting the offered help with the briefest unease. "And where exactly are you taking me, guardian angel of mine?"
"To the Bottoms." A squeeze to his shoulder: "My boss happens to be your biggest fan."
***
If he had expected the pomp of Judoh, Kibum would no doubt have been disappointed by the grimy, cold-looking fixtures around Eeteuk's place. Luckily, he came, like his mother used to say, as a child before God: free of all expectations. Except the one where he refused to be under anyone's thumb and got killed for it. He tried not too be too saddened about the outcome of his little theft. After so many successes, he was bound to hit rock bottom someday. Conning the mob had never seemed like a particularly long term solution to fatten up his bank account, but it had been exciting.
Equally exciting was being saved from death by some kid with a worrying amount of knowledge about killing people. Exciting and perhaps a little unsettling, once he found himself thrust into the limelight before an equally unimposing-looking man, his hands on the desk behind him and two figures shadowing his every move.
"Didn't know brokers had fanclubs," Kibum smiled, panic turning his thoughts to ill-timed humor. "How times are changing."
There were no handcuffs around his wrists, no knife point or gun to speed his progress. Sungmin lingered at his side for a moment longer before bounding to a chair and sitting down, leaving him, for all intents and purposes, alone. Their driver, a man with pink hair and irritating habit of playing with his cigarette lighter, followed grudgingly, looking about as bored as he could be. For a moment, the only sound in the room was that of metal snapping open and shut with every slap of thin fingers against the lighter.
"I need to respect a man before I can work with him," a soft, almost feminine voice replied lightly. "And you're pretty respectable."
Kibum chuckled, throat still aching from being nearly choked to death earlier in the evening. "Besides the part where I stole two billion in bonds and shares? Yeah, I guess I am."
"Do you know what happens to drug money when it's not stolen?" An arched eyebrow, indicating the man was waiting for an answer.
Lacking one, Kibum shrugged his shoulders, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Interrogation had better start soon because he felt just about ready to reacquaint himself with the ground. Especially if it kept spinning up to meet him.
The pink haired man kicked a chair in his direction, near enough that he could spill into it rather than, embarrassingly as he'd been planning, on the ground.
"Two-thirds of people residing in the Bottoms are addicts, did you know that? Half of those are kids under fourteen. As far as I'm concerned, the H&E can do with some reevaluation of their assets."
Kibum smiled, reaching behind him to make sure the chair was there. No falling without a safety net. That defined risk assessment research. "I'll take that pat on the back... but I doubt it's that easy, isn't it? Wouldn't be here if you were just going to leave it at that."
The man tilted his head sideways at him before glancing at Sungmin. "They drugged him?" he asked, sounding almost amused. "Thought you said he was hurrying to meet his maker when you got there?"
Kibum looked between the two, uncomprehending. "Drugged? They didn't drug me. No one drugged me, why they hell would they..." Again his vision swam, shapes blurring together this time, without the excuse of oxygen deprivation. "I don't remember--" drinking, eating, touching anything that had H&E paw prints on it. He wasn't an idiot.
He was also unprepared for the way the room moved, sending him half to his knees and half to the ground, stomach clenching painfully.
"Idiots," someone in the room swore, arms encircling Kibum's waist and pulling him back.
"They must be having issues if they're giving out contradictory orders like this," the leader sighed, stepping forward and grabbing hold of Kibum's chin. He had to, for all that Kibum's head rolled on his shoulders, neck refusing to obey any brain signals. "Someone thought you'd be easier to crack if you were made into a vegetable. And then someone else decided that might take too long. I hate to say it, but you're probably the unluckiest man I've ever met."
Kibum attempted a chuckle, the sound choked even to his own ears.
"You can still talk. It's the moving that's going to be a problem for another few hours or so." Rough estimate, he noted, annoyed at the lack of precision. Did a few hours mean three or ten? Would he have to vegetate in this chair until then or were they going to put a bullet in him first? And most important of all: what would happen to the money in either scenario?
Feminine lips curved into a smile, as if reading his thoughts. "Which means we have time for a nice, long chat. Since we've saved your life twice tonight, I think some remuneration would be appropriate. All in the interest of fairness."
"You want to know... where the two billion is hidden?" Kibum asked, uttering the damning words and imagining Sungmin's icepick in his shoulder.
The man shook his head slowly. "No, that would be too easy. I want you to work for me. If nothing else, I can promise you my men don't botch easy jobs like the H&E."
Kibum laughed. "Tempting, really. I don't imagine refusing'll get me out of this one alive, will it?"
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, far from hostile. "It would be better if you didn't refuse," he was told bluntly, a nod instruction enough for one of the men at the back of the room to step forward and help him to his feet. "Donghae will keep an eye on you until you're ready to give me your answer."
He wasn't granted another chance to speak, hands tugging him up with a modicum of effort and helping him out of the room.
"Any clue how long this shit lasts?" he managed weakly, wondering if they'd let him leave now that he'd seen the disappointing inner sanctum.
Thin shoulders shrugged against his own. "Eeteuk said a couple of hours." A bright smile that had nothing to do on a gangster's face ensued, nearly a perfect counterpart to Sungmin's. "Relax. You'll be fine. Besides, I always wanted to play doctor."
Strange, but there was no threat behind the words; nothing but genuine good humor, as if the man wasn't to keep his eye on him until the bell rang and his number was called up. A few hours. A couple of hours. Kibum swallowed past the lump of fear in his throat and smiled. "And your boss said I wasn't lucky..."
***
In the end, it had been easy to make the right choice, to give the answer Eeteuk expected. Part of it had been risk assessment--there was no benefit in dying for money, even if it was two billion stolen right from under the mob's nose--and part of it, Donghae's doing. The man had brought just enough levity and intensity to those long hours to capture Kibum's interest. He spoke when Kibum stopped, made fun of the H&E when Kibum began contemplating revenge and generally showed his true colors from the start. Kibum saw this and played his cards accordingly.
He was not alone. Eeteuk proved an unusual ally, constantly encouraging Donghae to spend time showing him the ropes and insisting they work together. He made attraction inevitable and they did the rest. It was an effective business tool, everyone had someone. Those that didn't, someone would be found. The cynic in him saw that the plan kept members loyal..and gave plenty of leverage if they weren't.
Standing in front of a familiar restaurant now, Kibum suppressed a smile. Encouraged by their leader or not, he didn't regret a minute of it. Different as they were, he and Donghae fit comfortably together and their relationship was sufficiently escapist for details and self-analysis to be utterly irrelevant.
It was partly why watching his lover with Eunhyuk brought a smile rather than a scowl to his expression.
Donghae was currently showing off Eunhyuk's new chair, all of the flashy amenities rendered useless as he steered the wheelchair over to their usual booth. Glimpsing the other man's face was a trial, but Donghae seemed to be enjoying himself. Like a child, he moved from sitting in the booth to sitting in the wheelchair in Eunhyuk's place.
He made a face, itself an answer to something Eunhyuk said far from Kibum's ear, before poking out his tongue and slipping back into the booth, an arm around the other man's shoulder affectionately.
Although Kibum couldn't see Eunhyuk's expression, he could imagine that the other man was trying his best to look annoyed and embarrassed, but deep down enjoying the attention. It was in his nature and it was Donghae's effect on him. On them both.
Jealousy was wholly absent as he watched Donghae press his lips to a pale neck and turned away, hands thrust deep into his pockets as he turned back into the street. Donghae could play doctor many times better than he ever could. Which wasn't to say guilt and fright and anger didn't affect him. Eunhyuk's legs were the man's freedom, his salvation after years spent in a wheelchair. While Kibum only knew his history from what he'd heard in snippets of conversation, he understood the injustice of having to return to the old days of infirmity.
Reaching for his cell, he pressed Kyuhyun's ID and waited not so patiently for the other man to pick up.
"Tell me you're close to fixing Eunhyuk's problem," he breathed into the phone, a rush of words belying his outward calm.
"Eunhyuk's problem will have to wait." came Kyuhyun's mechanical answer before the phone went dead.
Kibum squared his jaw. "Like hell it will," he muttered to the silence of his car. Working in Judoh was more than a facade. He had sources, he couldn't just ignore the possibility, however small, that they might pay off.
Authors: Scorpions angelinaii, murasaki_plum, nemesis_cry
Characters/Pairings: All (kangteuk, shichul, kihae; potential kyuwook, eunkihae, shihanchul, yeshdong, yewook, minry)
Rating: PG-13 to R
Genre: AU, organized crime, postcyberpunk
Summary: In a world where money and crime go hand and hand, survival is not determined by the fittest, but the ones who will fight to live.
Warnings: violence, swearing, sexual situations
Introduction and Chapter 1 | Chapters 2 & 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11
Banner by angelinaii
A hand tightened around his neck, blocking his airflow with very little effort. Eyes falling shut, Kibum struggled, trapped between the oppressing hand and the hard, unyielding wall. At this rate, he figured he'd be dead in minutes. Most unfortunate, considering the goon had asked him a very pertinent question and he hated to go out with business pending.
"Where's the money, huh?" The question came again, his nod unseen. At least he imagined he nodded; another interesting factor of being strangled to death happened to be a loss of consciousness, vision going blurry on the world.
It would be the H & E's loss, in the end, anyway. The money was safe but out of their reach, unless he survived to tell the tale. Torture would've worked much better to that effect, Kibum thought, surprising himself with the clarity of his judgment even on the brink of death.
A hand appeared out of nowhere, tapping the goon on the shoulder. But far from being the big boss, it turned out to belong to a kid, smiling brightly as if he hadn't been witnessing a murder.
"It could just be my imagination, but I think he's trying to answer you." A shrug. "Not that I'm surprised. Small brain like yours, you probably figured dead before or after he tells you is just the same, right? Real clever."
Mercifully, the hand around his throat relaxed somewhat, but not because the goon had any concern about his well being. Rather, he darted a glance over his shoulder, position leaving him at a disadvantage, even from Kibum's point of view. "Who're you?" he scowled, appraising the kid.
"Sungmin," he smiled. "I'd say nice to meet you, but you're going to be dead in about fifteen seconds, so... I guess there's no point in lying."
Kibum slid to the ground abruptly, the goon turning to face his savior, fists clenched. In different circumstances, Kibum would've tried to return the favor; considering he was still making an effort to recover his breath, he figured he might as well give up the thought this time around.
"You think you can take me on, kid?" sounded from above, the man's figure a dark spot of color through misty vision. "Keep on dreaming..."
The kid took a step back, then another, hardly afraid. Instead, he looked almost to be luring the goon away and into the center of the room. It was only after he blinked a few more times that Kibum realized a handle poking from between the goon's neck and shoulder, too short to be noticed out of the corner of the man's eye. The man wobbled on shaky legs for a short moment, hands outstretched in confusion before collapsing to his knees, head falling to the ground with a dull smack.
"Okay," the kid sighed, shrugging thin, tattooed shoulders. "So I lied about the fifteen seconds." Kneeling by the man's body, he tried to pull out the knife embedded in the corpse's shoulders, promptly giving up when it wouldn't come out. "Guess you're staying in then," he muttered, oblivious to Kibum as he began going through the man's pockets. A petty thief? Kibum wondered. Hardly. Too professional.
"What did you do to him?" he found himself asking, curiosity getting the better of him.
The boy looked up, a bright smile on his lips. "Icepick between the first two vertebrae. Punctured his heart and opened his lung all in one go. It's quick and painless. Well, mostly." He rattled off the process as he would a lesson about something trivial like history or mathematics, his hands busy leafing over bills and ID cards in the goon's wallet. "Sorry I'm late. Would have been here earlier but my liaison crashed our car coming off the bridge." A shake of the head that did nothing to dispel his smile as he stood and walked over to Kibum. "He drives like a maniac. Anyway, I got here on time. You're still kicking."
Barely, Kibum acknowledged, using the wall as leverage to pull himself back to his feet. "Not to sound ungrateful, but... who in God's name are you and what do you want?"
A hand wrapped around his middle to help him walk, the kid only grinned. "Call me your guardian angel."
"Right," Kibum winced, accepting the offered help with the briefest unease. "And where exactly are you taking me, guardian angel of mine?"
"To the Bottoms." A squeeze to his shoulder: "My boss happens to be your biggest fan."
***
If he had expected the pomp of Judoh, Kibum would no doubt have been disappointed by the grimy, cold-looking fixtures around Eeteuk's place. Luckily, he came, like his mother used to say, as a child before God: free of all expectations. Except the one where he refused to be under anyone's thumb and got killed for it. He tried not too be too saddened about the outcome of his little theft. After so many successes, he was bound to hit rock bottom someday. Conning the mob had never seemed like a particularly long term solution to fatten up his bank account, but it had been exciting.
Equally exciting was being saved from death by some kid with a worrying amount of knowledge about killing people. Exciting and perhaps a little unsettling, once he found himself thrust into the limelight before an equally unimposing-looking man, his hands on the desk behind him and two figures shadowing his every move.
"Didn't know brokers had fanclubs," Kibum smiled, panic turning his thoughts to ill-timed humor. "How times are changing."
There were no handcuffs around his wrists, no knife point or gun to speed his progress. Sungmin lingered at his side for a moment longer before bounding to a chair and sitting down, leaving him, for all intents and purposes, alone. Their driver, a man with pink hair and irritating habit of playing with his cigarette lighter, followed grudgingly, looking about as bored as he could be. For a moment, the only sound in the room was that of metal snapping open and shut with every slap of thin fingers against the lighter.
"I need to respect a man before I can work with him," a soft, almost feminine voice replied lightly. "And you're pretty respectable."
Kibum chuckled, throat still aching from being nearly choked to death earlier in the evening. "Besides the part where I stole two billion in bonds and shares? Yeah, I guess I am."
"Do you know what happens to drug money when it's not stolen?" An arched eyebrow, indicating the man was waiting for an answer.
Lacking one, Kibum shrugged his shoulders, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Interrogation had better start soon because he felt just about ready to reacquaint himself with the ground. Especially if it kept spinning up to meet him.
The pink haired man kicked a chair in his direction, near enough that he could spill into it rather than, embarrassingly as he'd been planning, on the ground.
"Two-thirds of people residing in the Bottoms are addicts, did you know that? Half of those are kids under fourteen. As far as I'm concerned, the H&E can do with some reevaluation of their assets."
Kibum smiled, reaching behind him to make sure the chair was there. No falling without a safety net. That defined risk assessment research. "I'll take that pat on the back... but I doubt it's that easy, isn't it? Wouldn't be here if you were just going to leave it at that."
The man tilted his head sideways at him before glancing at Sungmin. "They drugged him?" he asked, sounding almost amused. "Thought you said he was hurrying to meet his maker when you got there?"
Kibum looked between the two, uncomprehending. "Drugged? They didn't drug me. No one drugged me, why they hell would they..." Again his vision swam, shapes blurring together this time, without the excuse of oxygen deprivation. "I don't remember--" drinking, eating, touching anything that had H&E paw prints on it. He wasn't an idiot.
He was also unprepared for the way the room moved, sending him half to his knees and half to the ground, stomach clenching painfully.
"Idiots," someone in the room swore, arms encircling Kibum's waist and pulling him back.
"They must be having issues if they're giving out contradictory orders like this," the leader sighed, stepping forward and grabbing hold of Kibum's chin. He had to, for all that Kibum's head rolled on his shoulders, neck refusing to obey any brain signals. "Someone thought you'd be easier to crack if you were made into a vegetable. And then someone else decided that might take too long. I hate to say it, but you're probably the unluckiest man I've ever met."
Kibum attempted a chuckle, the sound choked even to his own ears.
"You can still talk. It's the moving that's going to be a problem for another few hours or so." Rough estimate, he noted, annoyed at the lack of precision. Did a few hours mean three or ten? Would he have to vegetate in this chair until then or were they going to put a bullet in him first? And most important of all: what would happen to the money in either scenario?
Feminine lips curved into a smile, as if reading his thoughts. "Which means we have time for a nice, long chat. Since we've saved your life twice tonight, I think some remuneration would be appropriate. All in the interest of fairness."
"You want to know... where the two billion is hidden?" Kibum asked, uttering the damning words and imagining Sungmin's icepick in his shoulder.
The man shook his head slowly. "No, that would be too easy. I want you to work for me. If nothing else, I can promise you my men don't botch easy jobs like the H&E."
Kibum laughed. "Tempting, really. I don't imagine refusing'll get me out of this one alive, will it?"
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, far from hostile. "It would be better if you didn't refuse," he was told bluntly, a nod instruction enough for one of the men at the back of the room to step forward and help him to his feet. "Donghae will keep an eye on you until you're ready to give me your answer."
He wasn't granted another chance to speak, hands tugging him up with a modicum of effort and helping him out of the room.
"Any clue how long this shit lasts?" he managed weakly, wondering if they'd let him leave now that he'd seen the disappointing inner sanctum.
Thin shoulders shrugged against his own. "Eeteuk said a couple of hours." A bright smile that had nothing to do on a gangster's face ensued, nearly a perfect counterpart to Sungmin's. "Relax. You'll be fine. Besides, I always wanted to play doctor."
Strange, but there was no threat behind the words; nothing but genuine good humor, as if the man wasn't to keep his eye on him until the bell rang and his number was called up. A few hours. A couple of hours. Kibum swallowed past the lump of fear in his throat and smiled. "And your boss said I wasn't lucky..."
***
In the end, it had been easy to make the right choice, to give the answer Eeteuk expected. Part of it had been risk assessment--there was no benefit in dying for money, even if it was two billion stolen right from under the mob's nose--and part of it, Donghae's doing. The man had brought just enough levity and intensity to those long hours to capture Kibum's interest. He spoke when Kibum stopped, made fun of the H&E when Kibum began contemplating revenge and generally showed his true colors from the start. Kibum saw this and played his cards accordingly.
He was not alone. Eeteuk proved an unusual ally, constantly encouraging Donghae to spend time showing him the ropes and insisting they work together. He made attraction inevitable and they did the rest. It was an effective business tool, everyone had someone. Those that didn't, someone would be found. The cynic in him saw that the plan kept members loyal..and gave plenty of leverage if they weren't.
Standing in front of a familiar restaurant now, Kibum suppressed a smile. Encouraged by their leader or not, he didn't regret a minute of it. Different as they were, he and Donghae fit comfortably together and their relationship was sufficiently escapist for details and self-analysis to be utterly irrelevant.
It was partly why watching his lover with Eunhyuk brought a smile rather than a scowl to his expression.
Donghae was currently showing off Eunhyuk's new chair, all of the flashy amenities rendered useless as he steered the wheelchair over to their usual booth. Glimpsing the other man's face was a trial, but Donghae seemed to be enjoying himself. Like a child, he moved from sitting in the booth to sitting in the wheelchair in Eunhyuk's place.
He made a face, itself an answer to something Eunhyuk said far from Kibum's ear, before poking out his tongue and slipping back into the booth, an arm around the other man's shoulder affectionately.
Although Kibum couldn't see Eunhyuk's expression, he could imagine that the other man was trying his best to look annoyed and embarrassed, but deep down enjoying the attention. It was in his nature and it was Donghae's effect on him. On them both.
Jealousy was wholly absent as he watched Donghae press his lips to a pale neck and turned away, hands thrust deep into his pockets as he turned back into the street. Donghae could play doctor many times better than he ever could. Which wasn't to say guilt and fright and anger didn't affect him. Eunhyuk's legs were the man's freedom, his salvation after years spent in a wheelchair. While Kibum only knew his history from what he'd heard in snippets of conversation, he understood the injustice of having to return to the old days of infirmity.
Reaching for his cell, he pressed Kyuhyun's ID and waited not so patiently for the other man to pick up.
"Tell me you're close to fixing Eunhyuk's problem," he breathed into the phone, a rush of words belying his outward calm.
"Eunhyuk's problem will have to wait." came Kyuhyun's mechanical answer before the phone went dead.
Kibum squared his jaw. "Like hell it will," he muttered to the silence of his car. Working in Judoh was more than a facade. He had sources, he couldn't just ignore the possibility, however small, that they might pay off.