[Team Four] Shinshoku
almost didn't make it. ngh deadlines.
all you need to know is i spent time rewatching jumparty 3. and so, have a confusing look at yuto the sniper.
Beneath his feet, Yuto stares from eighty-five floors up through the glass-tile floor at the small crowd forming around a bloodied body.
"Congratulations. You just killed the Prime Minister's son." There's static on the other line, but Yuto hears the voice loud and clear on his earpiece. He instead focuses on methodically cleaning his gun of fingerprints; he's sure the bullet lodged inside Okamoto-san's ribcage won't be traced back to him, but the rifle was a gift from Yuto's childhood mentor, if you could call him that, and he'd very much like to keep it, thank you very much. No amount of smart-ass-I'm-from-Intel-and-I-can-prove-with-data-that-you-shot-this will make Yuto throw away his Howa, as common as it is.
"Five minutes to get out of the scene," Daiki's voice says from the headset. There's a crash in the background, probably Inoo banging into things again. For the amount of cash they get with these kinds of jobs, surely there should be enough money to get them a safehouse that's not the back of a laundromat in Chinatown or a hundred-year old cramped matchbox inside some dingy alley.
Yuto digs in his pants pocket, placing the phone between his free ear and shoulder while he replaces the weapon in his bag. He hears the same ringing from his phone and his earpiece.
"Taking a break, probably one to two weeks. Don't find me for a job until then," he says when the line connects and presses 'end' before anyone can tag the call. He steps out as soon as the elevator doors open, exiting the crime scene undetected. Yuto takes one last look at the corpse just across the street--the crowd is thicker now, these people who wouldn't even give a crap about anybody from the Prime Minister's family on a normal day currently gathering around his dead son for some token sympathy, to probably be able to tell their family and friends that they'd witnessed a killing, to be part of the latest talk of the town.
If that boy had a name to his face, maybe a memory or two with him, anything Yuto could taste on the blood and bile he swallows when he bites his tongue too hard, maybe this would have been harder. As it is, the boy was a target, and this was a job well done.
There's a crackle from his earpiece again. "Jesus, you stick out like a sore thumb," it's Yabu's voice this time, clipped and business-like. "You know where to leave things, and this time, don't break anything." There's a satisfying crunch when Yuto's boot lands on the dummy phone, shattering it to pieces. He turns the corner and throws the headset and tracker in a can by the garbage pile.
"Kanda Shrine, please," he says the moment he gets in a taxi. The driver nods--it doesn't look like he's fazed by Yuto's blond hair or the huge black bag he carries. As they drive, Yuto can hear the blare of an ambulance or two getting nearer, not that they'd be able to do anything other than transport the body to the hospital morgue.
Yuto shakes his head, this is not the time to think about that. He's earned at least a few more days for himself, probably just enough time to celebrate Ryosuke finally becoming the shrine priest. For now, there are three hours to spare and what's more important is the dinner he still has to prepare and the congratulatory present he has yet to get.
next up is dusk037.
all you need to know is i spent time rewatching jumparty 3. and so, have a confusing look at yuto the sniper.
Beneath his feet, Yuto stares from eighty-five floors up through the glass-tile floor at the small crowd forming around a bloodied body.
"Congratulations. You just killed the Prime Minister's son." There's static on the other line, but Yuto hears the voice loud and clear on his earpiece. He instead focuses on methodically cleaning his gun of fingerprints; he's sure the bullet lodged inside Okamoto-san's ribcage won't be traced back to him, but the rifle was a gift from Yuto's childhood mentor, if you could call him that, and he'd very much like to keep it, thank you very much. No amount of smart-ass-I'm-from-Intel-and-I-can-prove-with-data-that-you-shot-this will make Yuto throw away his Howa, as common as it is.
"Five minutes to get out of the scene," Daiki's voice says from the headset. There's a crash in the background, probably Inoo banging into things again. For the amount of cash they get with these kinds of jobs, surely there should be enough money to get them a safehouse that's not the back of a laundromat in Chinatown or a hundred-year old cramped matchbox inside some dingy alley.
Yuto digs in his pants pocket, placing the phone between his free ear and shoulder while he replaces the weapon in his bag. He hears the same ringing from his phone and his earpiece.
"Taking a break, probably one to two weeks. Don't find me for a job until then," he says when the line connects and presses 'end' before anyone can tag the call. He steps out as soon as the elevator doors open, exiting the crime scene undetected. Yuto takes one last look at the corpse just across the street--the crowd is thicker now, these people who wouldn't even give a crap about anybody from the Prime Minister's family on a normal day currently gathering around his dead son for some token sympathy, to probably be able to tell their family and friends that they'd witnessed a killing, to be part of the latest talk of the town.
If that boy had a name to his face, maybe a memory or two with him, anything Yuto could taste on the blood and bile he swallows when he bites his tongue too hard, maybe this would have been harder. As it is, the boy was a target, and this was a job well done.
There's a crackle from his earpiece again. "Jesus, you stick out like a sore thumb," it's Yabu's voice this time, clipped and business-like. "You know where to leave things, and this time, don't break anything." There's a satisfying crunch when Yuto's boot lands on the dummy phone, shattering it to pieces. He turns the corner and throws the headset and tracker in a can by the garbage pile.
"Kanda Shrine, please," he says the moment he gets in a taxi. The driver nods--it doesn't look like he's fazed by Yuto's blond hair or the huge black bag he carries. As they drive, Yuto can hear the blare of an ambulance or two getting nearer, not that they'd be able to do anything other than transport the body to the hospital morgue.
Yuto shakes his head, this is not the time to think about that. He's earned at least a few more days for himself, probably just enough time to celebrate Ryosuke finally becoming the shrine priest. For now, there are three hours to spare and what's more important is the dinner he still has to prepare and the congratulatory present he has yet to get.
next up is dusk037.