#but the FBI caught the for-hire hitman

[mykaelaaa]

lesson learned

✰ lee teaches you how to handle a weapon but you kept getting distracted

✰warnings: guns, crimes, suggestive

✰words: 2.2k

"we have the entire forest around us and live in the woods. who's even gonna catch us?"

it was just simple banter back and forth. except today it seemed a bit more unfair, mostly for you.

it sparked after you read an article about a break-in near your neighborhood.

"listen to this one," you announced the seventh reading session in the past five minutes to lee, not certain if she was genuinely immersed or lost track by the time you finished with the first story.

"a woman suffered life threatening injuries around late night hours while her husband was out of town. they stole cash and jewelry and left without a trace," you quickly passed through the story, turning head in disapproval.

"great, hope FBI has spare guns for the love of your life," you added jokingly, hoping she just might consider it an option.

with closed news tab and a slight bitter feeling left by the nearby crime, you run your eyes over to your unbothered girlfriend. post afternoon nap fashion on display. lazily done ponytail, chapped lips and one of your old hoodies.

she probably thinks she can just teleport from her office to the cabin if you're in danger only if she thinks really hard about it. so it doesn't concern her much.

and that's how it began. neither of you letting it slide easily.

how do you argue with an intelligence officer who holds the highest scores in top-secret exams out of the whole squad for years in a row? and the worst part is she wasn't even bragging, it was a walk in the park for her.

"no."

"lee, think about it-"

"-no, i won't do that. it's not safe and you might get hurt." lee led the conversation flowing with logic and as much as you wanted to exploit the girlfriend privilege and have her drop the attitude or else she can start planning her week on the couch, there are not many ways for you to win this argument.

your begging attempts didn't work for some unknown reason. you just wanted her to show you how to defend yourself, just in case you get caught up in a bad situation.

and who can be a better mentor than lee harker herself?

she bears the patience, the charm, the looks, the wit. all except one thing, she's stubborn loser that cares too much for you.

you were assured it would be no fuss because, in most cases, she lets you get away with many things and not much convincing. it usually starts with a fake, heavy sigh that tries to disguise the fact you already won her over the second you said "can we" followed by "fine, we can do that i guess".

the win-loss ratio goes heavily in your favor.

"i mean, lee, imagine this," you said, putting your phone down to be taken more seriously. "you, real deal FBI agent working overnight on top secret case and me, your average local barista home alone?"

"you're not average," lee stated convincingly, now her eyes locking with yours to further prove it.

modest chuckle left you but you can't falter. not now.

"what if something happens? the headlines being "officers cabin raided; partner had no idea how to defend herself". kind of embarrassing, right?"

she shrugged not fully convinced, again absorbed in the detective game on her phone you made her addicted to.

"not really. many people don't know how to defend themselves nowadays."

she both missed and had a point.

as you took the last sip of the coffee and softly slammed down the mug knowing it will make her look up from her phone, you said "well that settles it then."

and maybe if you add a touch of dramatic scenario, she'd get it.

"if someone hires a hitman, reason being me having super-important-intel-full girlfriend then i won't know how to defend myself and die."

which is partially your fault for wanting to know every single detail about the cases she is working on.

she frowned, putting her phone aside. disappointment clear by the look on her face at the terrible scenario you just made up.

"what? no. what? don't say that."

"it is kind of true, though." you got up carrying your mug to the kitchen. the look you shot over the shoulder made her sigh.

jackpot.

you caught lee looking around the house, chewing on her lip. hands fidgeting in the pocket of her hoodie. eyes searching for nothing in particular but her mind was.

her gaze lingered a bit longer at the fluffy, ruffled blanket near the fireplace she got from you with "FBI Agent Off Duty" sewn into it. even if it sounded incredibly corny she would take a bullet for it, quite literally.

chair screeched against the wooden floor and lee beelined towards her office without a word.

sound of drawers opening and closing slipped through the walls for a minute up until it got suspiciously quiet.

right when you were about to check if she needed helping hand, you stopped to find her figure leaning against the doorway.

jacket on and holster attached to her hip hanging loosely as she held two heavy winter jackets in each hand, presenting them to you. it was hardly that cold outside but she went that extra mile.

"which one do you want?" it's not much of a hassle choosing between her FBI jacket and yours, a bland one on discount.

your answer was fairly delayed because it took some strength to look away from all that officer look going on that often gets you going. her in strictly business outfits are reserved for the work-cramped mornings and nights, not on free days like this one.

"i-i'll take the one that wasn't on discount three years ago." it made her snicker like she saw that answer coming.

you reached to take the jacket first but she stopped you, "turn around first."

"what for?"

lee didn't care to explain why but instead turned you around swiftly by the hips and kept her hands there. her front against your back as she bent her knees slightly to adjust to your height. hair tickling you and cheek brushing against yours.

she can be sly if she wants to.

out of thin air, she pulled out another holster to wrap it around your waist. you concentrated on the way her fingers adjusted it, easy like breathing. speaking of it, lee's face was terribly close to yours. with just a little push forward you would have kissed the corner of her lips.

but you opted to tease her instead, squinting your eyes in suspicion.

"is this how you help interns too?"

that earned you a quick side glance and a pair of raised brows, sort of shocked you'd ask that. do you think she's all that immoral when away from home? does she need to prove it to you?

she turned you around again with more force, face to face with you. her bangs tickled your forehead and you swallowed nervously. looking down at her final maneuvers at strapping you in safely.

veiny hands that buckled the belt with precision, a blend of her unique feminine yet masculine perfume, the heat rising between you.

"i don't do interns."

"you don't do interns?"

lee either ignored you or didn't hear you. she raised her head but still kept gaze lowered, satisfied with her handiwork.

"here," she grabbed her thrown FBI jacket from the couch.

"so what do you do then? baristas?"

"you said you wanted me to show you how to handle a gun."

"i did. you know i'm just kidding lee." you pulled her closer by the hand while snatching the jacket with the other. high quality material hugged your body perfectly. plus points for smelling like her.

it's not often lee sees you in her clothes like this. she would be lying if she said it didn't make her feel warm inside. and whatever else love brings.

"shall we?"

✧ ✧

it resembled professional training, except you were surrounded by the comfort of your home.

and lee was far from just any typical instructor.

she was adamant about teaching you the basics and her dominant side was slipping through the cracks. you didn't mind, not one bit.

after scanning the forest carefully and picking a tree that will serve as the target, lee ordered you where to stand and what to do.

something about your girlfriend bossing you around did a toll on you.

"see where my fingers are? that's the good way to hold it," lee explained, using herself as a reliable example. she kept unnecessary long eye contact with you that made you feel small.

"did you get it?" she questioned with a steady tone.

you nodded too quickly, "yes, yes. i can do it on my own."

that was a lie.

perhaps this wasn't the best idea, and you should rather take classes with someone who doesn't have the same hands that make you see stars almost every night.

and thank god she doesn't do interns.

at first, you battled with the weight of it. lee moved quietly behind you, watching you struggle to recall the correct position. you felt her hands traveling all the way to yours and softly wrapping around them. they were warm to touch, a harsh contrast to the outside breeze and cold metal of the gun.

she guided your fingers to where they were supposed to rest. a shiver passed right through you and you knew who to blame.

"ease off on the grip for me."

you breathed out harshly, unaware you've been keeping it in this whole time. lee didn't notice, sound was muffled by the leaves rustling.

but she did everything else. your hands were trembling under her hold and you held your breath for too long. she didn't understand why. she owned endless patience, especially when it came to you.

she wasn't the most skilled when it came to comforting but at least there was a lot of effort present.

"it's okay, i'm here," her words brushed past your ear, causing you to nearly drop the gun. she can crack a decades old cold case but not comprehend the effect she has on you.

"i didn't know how to use it either but i learned eventually," lee added.

all you did was nod and she wasn't satisfied with that reaction.

"look at me," sounded more authoritative than she wanted it to be. but you didn't dare to turn your face in her direction or else you might end up kissing her. or something worse. and you knew it would come full circle to bite you back.

with inhuman manner and precision, she snatched the gun from your weak grip, simultaneously letting the other land on your cheek, making you face her.

"are you cold?"

"of course not, i got your jacket on," you stated as matter of a fact.

"what is it then?"

"what are you talking about?" you laughed maybe too wildly trying to avoid her gaze.

lee dealt with many liars and you got something similar going on.

"you're distracted," lee stated, not leaving any room for your excuses. it was a plain observation and a correct one.

what a genius. you rolled your eyes, suddenly finding a tree branch interesting to stare at, deciding you can't keep this facade up any longer.

"it's you lee. you're a distraction."

"me?" just a tad of hurt in her voice apparent. probably thinking she wasn't good enough of a teacher. if only you could swap places with her right now instead of explaining yourself.

"yes. you," your hands sneaked up to cup her face, dragging against a rough material and for a second you leaned in forward. you lured her in so effortlessly. she mirrored your movements, eager breaths meeting in the middle but you backed away. not allowing her to kiss you.

you chuckled meanly, playing with your lips she kept staring at like she was about to snap. you left the kiss hung in the air and lee was ready to chase it.

"i don't really care about the lesson right now to be honest."

"i figured," lee barely finished the sentence before she pulled you in. both lips cold and soft. it was simple yet such a complex mix of everything.

her shoulders slumped at ease right as and you deepened the kiss further. her hands gripping your sides. hunger was spilling out from both bodies and eventually someone had to bite the bullet and move it inside the house.

neither was down let go, too breathless from a brief makeout. much bigger shame for a trained officer with good endurance who got all her air knocked out by her girlfriend.

"i thought you'd take it more seriously, you know," you teased, smile spreading across your lips.

"i did. this is a reward for not shooting me," she shot back matching your grin. "and i'll have to keep that jacket under a lock."

"yeah? i recommend doing the same for guns," you flashed the stolen one in front of her eyes before making a run for the house.

lee gave you some time to enjoy your fun and find a hiding spot. preferably somewhere close to the bedroom before she's had enough of her lessons being ignored.

so you'll have to learn a few. it's weekend after all.

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics where murder (or attempted murder) features in the story. Many of these fics have a darker tone and may have some triggers, so please be sure to read the tags and warnings on each fic carefully. We hope you enjoy these amazing stories and show them some love! If you enjoy our rec lists and want them to continue, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) A Gentleman And His Angel | Explicit | 2572 words

Harry is a killer (kinda got daddy issues) and Louis is his whole world.

2) Daisy | Explicit | 3575 words

An assassin who lurks in shadows, who kills with a detachment towards his victims, their death always displayed artfully for anyone who stumbles upon the corpse once his work is done.

Of course, no one knows his actual name. If they do get to know it by some ill twist of fate, their end follows quickly and swiftly.

He goes by Poison Ivy.

3) But I Want It (It's A Crime) | Explicit | 6590 words

Harry is hired to kill Louis. Louis thinks he's an idiot. They fuck.

4) And Up Until Now I Had Sworn To Myself That I'm Content With Loneliness | Mature | 14017 words

An high school AU Where Louis is a pretty omega and loves strawberries and Harry just wants to settle down and grow old together.

5) The Blood Is Rare (And Sweet As Cherry Wine) | Explicit | 14270 words

True Mates AU with a murder case to be solved and feelings to be unraveled.

6) Something Wicked This Way Comes | Explicit | 16719 words

A regency murder mystery au where Louis is married to an earl and Harry is a detective. Hatchets are buried but not everyone is as they seem.

7) Angel Of Small Death And The Murder Scene | Explicit | 20634 words

Ever since Louis read about the new up and coming Detective in town, he had immediately disliked the man, despite never having met him. So, naturally, it can only be the worst thing that could have happened to Louis when he gets stuck with Detective Styles trying to s

8) Your Eyes Of Blue, Your Kisses Too | Explicit | 21785 words

When they get out onto the streets away from the crowds Niall turns to walk backwards, “So did you get any leads?”

“Well- uh.”

Niall shakes his head, “Too busy kissing that pretty boy onstage, I see. Gonna blow the whole case for a piece of ass?”

9) Windsor Peaks | Not Rated | 23801 words

Louis Tomlinson lost his parents when he was 8 years old. He was moved to an orphanage in London where he stayed until he was old enough to leave. Louis moved back to his home town of Windsor Peaks, to study and make a life for himself where his parents had lived and wanted to raise him.

Louis life was going well, he was happy, until two detectives from London turn up. Harry Styles and Scott Wolf  are investigating a string of murders and a car accident that lead them to straight to Louis and his past.

Is Louis a suspect or is there something more sinister going on.

10) Once Upon A Dream | Explicit | 33319 words | Sequel

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

11) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

12) No Easy Choice, But You’re Mine | Explicit | 45603 words

Louis is an omega hitman with one last job that goes a little sideways. Harry is the alpha bartender that looks a little too closely and cares a little too much.

13) Spoonful Of Sugar | Explicit | 42900 words | Sequel

Note: This fic is the sequel to this fic.

Louis Tomlinson cares for his family above all else, a fact that’s led him on a twisted path peddling drugs to support them. Just as he’s made the decision to jump ship, Louis gets snared between the two largest crime syndicates in the city. To keep his family safe he’s forced to trust the man that failed to keep his promise two years ago, the resident drug lord he’s unknowingly been working for, Harry Styles.

14) Yesterday Came Suddenly | Explicit | 48473 words

Harry, the deadliest member of the NYC assassins’ guild, is forced to face a seemingly impossible task in hopes of finally leaving the underground behind for good, but when ghosts from the past come back to haunt him, escaping the darkness becomes that much harder.

15) Tied Down | Explicit | 48551 words

The most interesting case in Liam and Niall’s careers falls directly into their laps, courtesy of an epic fuck-up of one Harry Styles, partner to the almost-infamous drug dealer Louis Tomlinson.   The investigation yields an unexpected yet satisfactory outcome for Liam and Niall.  For Harry and Louis, however, things are far more complicated.

16) Untamed Hearts Align | Explicit | 55786 words

For as long as Louis has known her, Lady Margaret Tomlinson has had two aspirations for the remaining years of her life. The first was to out-dress the Duchess of Kent at every soirée and gathering. The second was to marry off her omega nephew to the most honorable – and highly ranked – alpha suitor she could find.

He does not expect for her to arrange a marriage between him and the crown prince, and he certainly does not expect to fall for him. Everything changes when Harry disappears.

17) Let Your Damage, Damage Me | Explicit | 57077 words

A low and dangerous growl was ripped from the future King’s chest.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the alpha snarled, eyes dark and nostrils flared.

Even as anger rushed through him at the alpha’s brutish display, Louis felt breathless at the intense gaze of the man that was going to be his future mate.

‘Tomorrow I’m going to be under all that. He will be inside me, all muscles and rage.’ Louis felt his cheeks heat again, but refused to be cowed. So he put his best smirk on display, the one alphas despised to see, the one that assured them all he had the upper hand.

“Thought you were expecting me, dear husband. I’m your future mate.”

18) From Chaos | Explicit | 62764 words

“Your majesty, is everything okay?” a man, fully covered in a black armor from head to toe, harshly opened the door. Louis’ breath hitched, not quite registering the honorary term the man used for him but fully recognizing two things; first, the black crown of thorns on top of his head, making the dark veil that covered his face sit in place. There was a symbol on his chest, two serpents intertwined in what appeared to be a circle, who represented Orcus’ connection with life and death. A reminder to everyone in the order that death was constant, and infinite. The man who stood in front of him, tense and alert, was a knight, an Orcus’ knight. Louis took an uneven breath. What type of nightmare was this? Tale as old as time, a villain falls in love with an already taken hero who only wants to kill him.

19) Derail The Mind Of Me | Explicit | 77323 words

The Behavioral Analysis Unit gets called in to help a small town police department find the killer leaving behind a string of victims with a particularly jarring signature. FBI profiler Harry Styles must work with his team to uncover the unsub responsible for a slew of gruesome murders and just might discover his own hidden feelings for BAU Technical Analyst Louis Tomlinson along the way.

20) The Rose Of Whitechapel | Mature | 100182 words

Jack the Ripper au - Detective Constable Harry Styles and his partner, DC Liam Payne, lead the case on the Whitechapel murders. Louis Tomlinson, the Rose of Whitechapel, is harbouring secrets of his own, along with a dark and sordid past. When their paths cross, truths are revealed, and perhaps hearts are mended...

A darkness is brewing, and it's finally come to collect on the promise it was made.

21) Echoes & Omens | Mature | 100707 words

Echoes of the dead come in many forms. Their imprints forever tied to the ones who'd killed them.

Louis Tomlinson is able to track the dead using their echoes, they call to him. He's used that gift to aid Scotland Yard in their investigations, with the hopes of studying Criminology at Cambridge University. He's lived a life of privilege and good fortune as a Marquess, son of the late Duke Tomlinson, with his life mapped out since day one.

Until two terrible truths are revealed.

One, he's adopted.

Two, his biological parents are London's most notorious serial killers.

Against his family's wishes, Louis travels to Chicago to uncover the truth of their incarceration. Much to his dismay, his biological mother's Lawyer, Harry Styles, wants to take his case. Together, they work to uncover what really happened all those years ago, but perhaps more is revealed than they could've ever anticipated. Trapped in a whirlwind of portents and omens, Louis and Harry find themselves pitted against an enemy they'd not foreseen.

22) Beautiful War | Mature | 103379 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Five years ago, Louis was nearly the next victim in a string of murders plaguing Portland, Oregon. He managed to escape and the Angel Killer was apprehended and sent to prison. Now, Louis’ a best-selling author that assists state police with minor cases. He still suffers from the events of the days he’d been held hostage, but he’s found ways to cope.

That is, until the killings start up again. A body was found in the woods. A body that bared the same signature the media had dubbed: The Angel of Death.

Special Agent Harry Styles leads the case, and he doesn’t buy into the clairvoyant bullshit that Louis spewed to save face five years ago. He’s certain that Louis Tomlinson was involved.

Until they meet, and they’re both left questioning everything they’d thought to be true.

23) Shadow Dances | Mature | 101591 words

Louis Tomlinson has a begrudging gift, he’s able to communicate with the spirits of the dead. Often against his will, and almost always at the most inconvenient of times.

He and his partner, Zayn Malik, work for a covert division of the New Haven Federal Bureau of Investigations. They aid in all kinds of cases, though their talents lie in the obscure and unsolvable.

It’s when a strange new case falls onto their desks that they’re left questioning the extent of their abilities, and whether they were ever truly alone.

Harry Styles was brought into the FBI for not only his skills, but his ability to mitigate the influx of spirits surrounding the elusive and obnoxiously infuriating sharp-tongued medium he’d been assigned to. Louis gets under his skin, he’s impulsive and a risk to the team according to Harry.

They do however have to find a way to set aside their sordid history, and their reluctant attraction, to track down the murderer plaguing their coastal city.

24) Drops of Jupiter | Mature | 121826 words

In a small, sleepy town ruled by prejudice, Louis Tomlinson runs his grandmothers shop for the occult. He finds comfort in his tarot cards, his friends, and a dog that he doesn’t have room for. He thought the worst he’d have to deal with would be bigotry, until a new sheriff arrives with a headstrong little girl that’s impossible not to fall in love with.

But what happens when a string of break-ins leads to a brutal attack, and the towns’ darling is murdered right under their Sunday hats? A murder that just so happens to bear the same modus operandi as similar homicides in neighbouring states. Has the killer been circling Virginia, or is he a local of Lavender Hills?

And what will Louis do when the charming Sheriff Styles starts to suspect him of such a heinous crime?

25) Only You Can Be My Alpha | Mature | 212378 words

In a world where one was either an Alpha or an Omega wolf, Louis found himself in a body that could be neither. Born an Omega without the expected characteristics of one, he felt broken, choosing to live as Alpha a lifestyle as he could. Harboring a serious lack of respect for Alphas and their authority complexes, Louis managed to get himself banished from his home, forced to wander the unforgiving woods for years, facing the elements and fighting enemy rogues each time they arose.

Unbeknownst to Louis, in a tribe to the southwest of his home, there lived a dysfunctional Alpha, the orphaned pack leader Harry, who had never felt satisfied enough with anyone to settle down and continue his royal line. Living their lives apart thus far, the both of them assumed that they might be alone forever, making the best of things despite this even though it hurt.

Chance, luck, or maybe fate brings Louis to this tribe when he’d least expected to receive kindness and shelter from a stranger, and when he arrives, something in his soul pulls him to Harry like a raging river current. The two don’t get off to a good start, but everyone around them can sense the chemistry—and in time they do too.

26) Join Me In The Afterlife | Explicit | 262289 words

The one where Louis is a simple guy - all he wants from his summer break is to spend some quality time with his mother, get to know her new husband, and learn to play the guitar. Nothing out of the ordinary, that is for sure. However, life has a funny way of working and when Louis finds a strange boy sitting on his bed one sunny day, his summer break takes a turn for the better (or worse) when he discovers a ghost has stolen his heart from the get-go.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[sailorsplatoon]

aight here's my idea:

Acht used to be a part of a mafia, but kinda got kicked out after snitching. (the au equivalent of Acht leaving the Deepsea Metro)

Four is a hitman for hire. They're an FBI agent who is presumed dead, having faked their own death (The FBI being the New Squidbeak Splatoon. I'm only having Four want to leave and fake their own death so we can throw in a little v4 action)

Acht has a massive target on their back now because you know... mafia. So, they decide to nip it in the bud and just kill the people trying to kill them. But they can't do it alone. So they hire Four.

By the time the two get to the mafia, it's kind of falling apart anyway. It had been found out by the FBI and the boss has been killed. (Au equvalent of Agent 8 beating Tartar) Still, the two take down the rest of the mafia together. But then all these murders get reported to the police and what do you know, the FBI gets involved. So they discover that Four isn't dead, and is now working as a hitman.

Acht and Four run, hoping to escape together, fleeing from the law across several countries. Over the course of them running, the two start to fall in love. They do eventually get caught, but they don't go to jail because the agents who caught them (au versions of Neo 3, 8, and Cap 3) are willing to pretend like none of this ever happened. In exchange for a small bribe, of course.

what if the bouncing beats toy came to life and starting making real music, how would acht feel? (also 4 would have to prevent her from going crazy)

oh wow that is an… interesting idea. Also sort of sounds like the premise of a horror movie. 

Acht is pretty sure they’re either going insane or in hell. You can’t really blame them, their life is turning into an Edgar Allen Poe poem. They’re probably going to try and destory the toy several times but, in typical horror movie fashion, it doesn’t work and the toy keeps coming back. Four is going to do their best to stop Acht from going insane by trying to comfort them through it, but eventually Four realizes they’re going to have to resort to shooting this toy repeatedly until it dies. 

Thank you for the ask!!! Gibbous is sufficiently traumatized!

[tjwritesfanfics]

So I was scrolling through Pinterest and I found a few pictures that just really make me think about the gang au I wanted to write. Well I wrote the first chapter of Jungkook’s story but still.

This is how I would see them all. Also none of these edits are mine

𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐬 - 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

- Innocent!Reader x HitMan!Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Everyone wants new kid, Jeon Jungkook’s, attention. You had it without even asking for it and if they knew the consequences that come with having his attention, they wouldn’t want it.

𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 - 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧

- Bodyguard!Reader x Leader!Kim Namjoon

Summary: Namjoon has been trained since he was a kid to take over his father’s empire. Now he has to get married for political power and he was fine with that. Only problem is he’s slept with his new wife’s bodyguard once a few years ago. That won’t make a difference... right?

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 - 𝐉𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧

- Rival!Reader x Negotiator!Park Jimin

Summary: Park Jimin as been known as the best negotiator around town, he’s also known for being a stone cold sadist, which is why Namjoon made him head of the torture. He’s always gotten the information he wanted and he’s not about to let a stubborn rival gang member ruin that.

𝐈𝐧 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 - 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧

- Married!Reader x Right Hand Man!Kim Seokjin

Summary: Seokjin led a pretty normal life before he was recruited for a life of crime. In fact he was on the fast track to be a lawyer and was in love. After a few altercations between him and his father, Seokjin leaves everything behind. Now years later he sees you again, but only now you are married to an cheating husband and have a daughter who looks exactly like him.

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐚𝐧 - 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠

- Cop!Reader x Smuggler!Kim Taehyung

Summary: Taehyung was a grade A smuggler and had never been caught. Other smugglers admired him and cops hated him. You swore to put him behind bars one day and Taehyung enjoyed the game of cat and mouse, always taunting you whenever he gets the chance.

𝐆𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢

- Florist!Reader x Weapons Expert!Min Yoongi

Summary: Even hard guys can have a soft spot. For weapons expert Min Yoongi it was his love of flowers. Well his love for the girl selling the flowers, but oh well.

��𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 - 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤

- Hacker!Reader x Hacker!Jung Hoseok

Summary: Jung Hoseok prided himself on his hacking skills and not much else. So you can imagine his surprise when the FBI hired a hacker that beat him at his own game. He wanted to meet said hacker, but wasn’t aware that he already had at the diner he frequents.

[jade-marie]

Besides rio shooting the little money maker girl he's never done nothing that doesnt make sense to the situation but Ive gotta admit I wont ever get past that (obv) but everything beth done was what she had to do at the time, yall are a little too harsh its not like the other girls werent gun and go abt the whole thing from the start so everybody got their problems relating to that. Lot of the times it was their ideas they went ahead with and she was right there with em and it caused probs with bossman so cut her some slack man I love that big mommy milkers bitch shes trying her best and if that was my man id shoot him too sometimes 😂

I have absolutely no idea why you sent this to me, honestly. I’m not sure if you think I’m suddenly going to see the error of my ways, decide I’ve been too harsh on Beth this whole time, and go back to loving everything but whatever.

Rio’s never done anything that doesn’t make sense to the situation

I would largely agree with this, the way I see it, Rio operates by a very different moral code to Beth. He is part of a world where the stakes are much higher, so reward and punishment is also much more extreme. To anyone looking in, his behaviour probably seems extremely harsh but if you look at how he typically handle situations, you would see that Beth gets off very lightly. She should be dead and there is absolutely no way that she doesn’t know that. So the fact that she keeps taking liberties, even though he’s very obviously letting her off lightly, pisses me off. She effectively takes advantage of the knowledge he won’t kill her, by pulling shit she wouldn’t dare pull with anyone else. 

Everything Beth did was what she had to do at the time

This is where our opinions massively diverge. Saying she did what she had to do is the same thing as saying she didn’t have a choice, and it completely removes her agency. We can go all the way back to 1.06 where she says, no one took advantage of her, it was a choice, she wanted to. When she found out her family was struggling for money, she didn’t try and get a job or a payday loan, she committed armed robbery. Once her debt with Rio was cleared she didn’t wanna go back to her old life, she wanted to continue working for him, again, another choice. She then made the choice to launder money through the dealership, then she decided to wrangle a 50-50 partnership in the pills. Once Rio was gone she started her own printing operation. Nobody forced her to do any of this, she didn’t have to, she wanted to. 

If you want to talk about specific acts between her and Rio - she didn’t have to shoot him three times in the chest, she didn’t have to leave him to die. That was a choice, a conscious one. When he came back and it was clear he was not going to kill her, he was taking her money (which lots of people would consider pretty fair given the circumstances), she didn’t have to hire a hitman, she wanted to. With the current Secret Service storyline, also a choice. This isn’t me saying she should have chosen Rio over the Secret Service, this is me saying she could have. Both options were available to her and she chose to go against him. She didn’t have to, she wanted to.

The girls were always part of it and it was their ideas which caused Rio problems

They literally weren’t and that has been one of the biggest sources of conflict between them from the outset of the show. Beth originally shut down the idea of robbing a grocery store, then when she found out she was in trouble she convinced the girls to do it. Beth went behind their backs and asked Rio for more work. The secret shoppers were also Beth‘s idea. Beth was the one who asked Rio to increase their drop to $500,000 when the other 2 girls wanted to quit. Beth threw a set of keys in Rio‘s face and got them all fired, then she convinced the other 2 to help her get him locked up. It was Beth’s idea to launder money through the dealership, she was also the one who stole his pills and a 50-50 partnership. It was also Beth who fucked him. Beth was the one who shot him, Beth was the one who decided to print money, Beth was the one who decided to hire a hitman. It was also Beth’s idea to rat out Rio in exchange for witness protection. While the girls agreed to do these things with her, they were Beth‘s ideas and more often than not, the decision was already made without them so they didn’t have much choice. 

As for specific things which caused problems for Rio - the original robbery was technically Beth‘s idea. It was Beth who wanted to get him arrested, which brought the FBI closer to his operation than they’ve ever been. It was Beth who decided to let Boomer go, when Annie was more than willing to shoot him. It was Beth who was sloppy keeping the books at the dealership which burned his cash operation, as well as the means for moving pills. Once again, it was Beth who shot him. It was Beth who targeted Lucy, it was Beth who hired Fitzpatrick. Beth and her sloppy bookkeeping at Boland Bubbles alerted the authorities and to save her own ass, she decided to offer them Rio. The girls weren’t part of any of that. 

The only instance where you could say the other 2 specifically caused problems for him is when Ruby and Annie tried to do a job behind Beth’s back and they didn’t follow through. Aside from that, she has very much been the de facto leader, making decisions on everybody else’s behalf. 

I’m too harsh on Beth and should cut her some slack

I’m not sure why anybody should cut her slack, actions have consequences and she’s yet to face them. Instead, everyone around her has to suffer as a result of her choices, but she doesn’t care. She keeps pulling the same bullshit and doesn’t take responsibility for anything, unless you count the occasional “woe is me” pity party where she calls herself a monster.

If Rio was your man, you would shoot him too

Contrary to popular belief, Rio has never been her man, he was her boss that she fucked a couple times. Putting that aside, I don’t particularly care that she shot him. If she turned around and said “fuck you, you deserved it. You kidnapped me in the middle of the night and put a gun in my hand, what did you expect?” I would fucking respect her for it. Besides, if we’re going by the logic that he deserved it, she should’ve caught a bullet ages ago and I can guarantee the reaction to him shooting her would be very fucking different.

What actually bothers me is the reason that she shot him, that entire rhetoric of him essentially being the cause of her problems because she doesn’t want to take ownership of anything she does. Until she changes that mentality, she won’t get an ounce of sympathy out of me.

[praetor-canis]

@jr4cats Your bio says you're Brazilian. Let me talk to you as a fellow citizen of the third world then. You know full well the kind of institutional and geopolitical power that an agency of the First World would have on people of the Third World/Global South. If two people from America take a kid from some war-worn region in Latin America, the mother isn't going to say no. But that doesn't mean the Americans are the "good guys" in this scenario either. The kid may not be facing a war-torn home, but it doesn't mean he feels at home in the U.S. Think about the realities of our world for a second. Put yourself in an imaginary scenario parallel to Anakin's.

So you tell me, how it would feel if the CIA were to bring you over to New York or Washington D.C., introduce you to all the cool people, and tell you that you're destiny is to destroy….I don't know, Communism. They educate you on the advantages of Western civilization, capitalism, and the free market. They tell you about the "victims of communism". Another war starts, and you end up working with the drug-smuggling Contras of Nicaragua. You find out Klaus Barbie, this old Nazi called "butcher of Lyon", is a protected asset of the counterintelligence corps and has been smuggled into South America by the CIA. You not only have to work with him, but protect him as well. You stand by and watch as the economic hitmen of the IMF tear Argentina's currency to shreds. You even have to help them enforce their policies.

At the end of it all. They tell you that your last mission is to kill JFK. Or some other politician of your choice (Luna De Silva perhaps?), someone who had the audacity to want diplomacy with the USSR and kowtow to China. Are you going to do it?

If you go through with it. Doles and Monsanto get to build even more Banana Republics in Latin America. Klaus Barbie gets to die at a ripe old age. You'd be the great hero in D.C., but things won't change for Latin America either. Would you be happy with such an endgame? Is the world saved by such an act?

Whatever choice you make. Let's talk about that moral judgment you made on Anakin and start drawing parallels.

In this imagined scenario, are you a better or worse person than the poor white kid from the Appalachian mountains who was only taught to hate Communism and all left-wing politics? Raised as a KKK prodigy? Are you a better or worse person than the kid in Haiti or Colombia who was raised by drug cartels and became a hitman for hire? Are you a better or worse person than the child soldier in Cambodia or Vietnam? Are you a better or worse person than the kid growing up in the rubble of Palestine, who ends up joining Hamas? Would you think it fair for someone on the outside to make such a comparison of your morals and character?

If you don't go through with it. The tide of Communism sweeps through the American continents. Are you the sole person to blame for such a situation? Or are you just someone caught in the circumstances? A tragic character? Would you say that the CIA and FBI at least had 30~50% responsibility for allowing the entire situation to hinge on your choice in the first place? How would you feel if people worshiped McCarthy and J. Edgar Hoover every day, as though they did nothing wrong? If fans of Hoover told cute little stories about his kind words to defected Black Panthers and Cointelpro agents? Would people like me be wrong for pointing out that Hoover isn't the born-again baby Jesus fans make him out to be?

Or turn this around and think about it from the other side. The left-wing politicians of Latin America had high hopes for overturning the Monroe Doctrine and sent you off to the USSR. Only for you to defect and join the warmongers in DC for a seven-figure salary and a mansion on the Potomac River. The folks in D.C. tell you it's for peace and maintaining a rules-based international order.

I only ask that you use your imagination on this and think whether moral judgments can be made so easily. I don't require an answer and you're not obligated to give one. Just stop and think for a moment.

A Thought regarding Darth Maul

Recently i saw this post

https://jr4cats.tumblr.com/post/670958045026811905/beanabouttown-tragicfantasy-girl

And I got to say, I find it really strange to say that Maul was horrible for his choices while also thinking that Anakin was the biggest tragic baby who never had any chance at all.

What i am trying to say is:

Maul had it worse than Anakin, Growin up wise.

Anakin grew up on first with his mother in tatooine, and then later with the Jedi. While living as a slave was definitely a bad life, he still had a loving mother for those nine years, besides also having friends to play with and a home.

Then the Jedi take him to the Order (With the consent and bleesing of his mother by the way.) And now there's a long and complicated discussion to be made about how well Anakin was taken care of, but he still had a roof under his head, food on his plate, and people who genuinely wanted to help him (And let him make questions, contrary to what some may say).

When Palpatine came to try to grom Anakin into the DarkSide, he had to hide his actual intentions and pretend to be just a kindly politician, pretend he actually gave a shit about Anakin.

And that also meant that Anakin had much easier asses to different opinions and philosophies, which is why Palpatine had to butter him up with promises of saving the ones he loved.

Maul, on the other hand didn't have that.

Maul, in Legends, was given by his mother to Sidious because she thought he would give him a good life. Needless to say, that didn't happen.

Maul was put into a living hell from day one, from being put in a vat of acid unless he answered questions, being send to a school of assassins were he was then ordered to kill everyone there regardless of they were to him. Left to die in horrific wastelands, starved, and pretty much left to dwindle in his on misery.

Questioning Palpatine was unthinkable, and the only way he was able to express any form of oposition to his master was in the form of murderous intent.

In Canon, we don't have as much information on his growth, but we know that he was stolen from his mother and trained to be an assassin, with promises of becoming his second in command when Palpatine took over.

Now if you know Sidious, you know that that's is a load of crap. Sidious doesn't want to share power. He is a backstabbing bastard that loves to backstab people. At best, Maul would be a useful lapdog, send to do the dirty job, but never given enough power or autonomy to actually challenge his master.

Except that didn't happen, instead, Maul was cut in half and went crazy for the next 20 years or so. Scurring along, surviving only on his hatred. By the time he comes back to "sanity" he doesn't have his legs and had everything that was promised to him taken away.

And is important to understand that, while the choices one makes are ultimately their responsability, how a person makes their choices is often defined a lot by how they grew up. Maul's choices, to me, while wrong and terrible, are way more easy to understand than Anakin's. From a very young age he was feed a violent ideology which told him that the only way to survive was throught hate, that his response to something happening to him was vengeance, that the only form of relationship he could have were that of a master and a underling.

And again, I am not saying that Maul didn't have any choices in his life. He did, and so did Anakin, and I think it's a disservice to both of this characters to ignore their autonomy to bash Obi-Wan.

[3liza]

im going to be the first person to get caught in a sting after hiring an fbi agent deep web hitman to do a hit on myself

[hitmanservices2022]

Hire a Hitman

While hiring a hitman may seem like a convenient way to get a man's head, it's actually illegal. Hiring a hitman online or through newspaper classifieds is usually not a good idea because clients often advertise through word-of-mouth. If a law enforcement agency hears about your need, it may investigate the case and arrest the hitman. Legitimate hitmen prefer to remain anonymous, as this allows them to avoid prosecution.

The internet has also made it possible to hire a hitman anonymously. While most criminals can learn computer skills, the internet provides anonymity. Dark Web Marketplaces are an excellent place to find hitmen because they can provide you with illicit goods and counterfeit currency. Unlike face-to-face meetings with a killer, meeting them online could lead to a risky situation, and you might get caught in the crossfire. To avoid these risks, most customers prefer to pay the killer in advance and release it to him or her after the assassination.

To avoid being arrested for hiring a hitman online, make sure to complete a background check before you submit your information. Those with criminal records will have to undergo background checks before allowing a hitman access to their private information. The FBI has also been known to eavesdrop on conversations between victims and hitmen. The same goes for online dating. If you find yourself in this situation, don't be surprised if the people you love aren't on a dating site. If they get suspicious, contact the police.

If you're planning a hitman, the first step is to find one that will fit your budget. Using the internet will provide you with a long list of hitman services. The sites will list publicly available websites, as well as those in the dark web. If a hitman service claims to have ex-military members, gang members, foreign mobsters, and tough guys, these services are probably scams. If you decide to go this route, be sure to keep in mind the many complaints and dissatisfied customers.

There have been numerous cases of hitmen being hired to kill a third person. The most popular reasons for hiring a hitman include revenge or the termination of an intimate relationship. While a hitman may have the right to kill a suspect, it's also likely to be illegal to do so. Depending on the circumstances, hiring a hitman could result in you being arrested and facing prison time. And while hiring a hitman may seem like an easy way to get your target dead, it is not the best idea to choose an intruder.

In a recent case, a hitman was sentenced to 10 years in prison for soliciting a hitman. A website operated by Michael Innes does not advertise its service, but it's been viewed in 160 countries. Obviously, these are people who want to get their hands on a person's head. It's also possible to hire a hitman for hire on the dark web. But how can you trust someone on the Internet?

[anonymouslyangsty]

What do you think Assassin!Taka would do if he figured out how much his grandfather was manipulating him? Also, what do you think of an alternative Assassin!Taka where his first kill was his grandfather?

Very good question and very good concept.

Minor derailment for a sec (i swear it's relevant), but let's talk about Takaaki and Toranosuke in this au.

(warning, it ended up not being 'a sec'. I bolded the part where I ACTUALLY start talking about your question)

I feel like Torano's downfall was a bit of a slippery slope. He needed to gain some momentum before he went to murder and child grooming, as ya do. And I think the major step towards extreme corruption came through Takaaki.

I feel like those two have a rather tense relationship early on in the au. Takaaki knows that some of his father's dealings are fishy. Perhaps not criminal at that point, but not exactly clean either.

But Takaaki is still human. He's got a wife and young son to care for. If his father's slimy actions got out, they'd ruin the Ishimaru name. Plus, he isn't hurting anyone, right? So Takaaki leaves it alone.

That kind of dismissal only lasts for so long however, especially when you're as honest as Takaaki. Eventually, he's not going to be able to turn a blind eye, even if acting puts himself and his family at risk.

Perhaps Torano does something that goes a bit too far, that actually hurts people and ruins lives. Takaaki wouldn't be able to stand for it and, even if he cares about his father, he isn't going to deny his duties as an officer because of it.

But I think that Takaaki would make the critical mistake of trusting the goodness in his father just a BIT too much. He thinks he can talk sense into Torano, get him to change his ways without ruining his whole career. All Takaaki does is give him ample warning.

Torano cares about his son. Takaaki is a decent man, hardworking and honest. But he'll be damned if he lets his soft heart get in his way and ruin his legacy. So when Takaaki threatens to release info on Torano's illegal activities, he knows he has to keep his son quiet.

Toranosuke is very careful with how he does it. He can't just kill the man. If Takaaki shared his suspicions with anyone, his sudden death would be damning.

So he does the next best thing. Torano gets Takaaki declared clinically insane and locked in an asylum. He weaves this detailed, damning story, bribing as many people as he needs to to create a false narrative. Takaaki attacked him in his office, spouting conseracy theories and accusing him of murder!

Toranosuke deeply cares for his son, so he obviously wouldn't send him away unless it was for his own good, right? And if Takaaki's wife suddenly finds herself overwhelmed with life under the camera's eye, well. What kind of grandfather would Toranosuke be if he didn't care for Taka while his mother was away visiting family? He's just looking out for his family after all.

So that's all to say that Takaaki is alive in this au, locked away from crimes he didn't commit. After so long of being told he's insane, he slowly begins to believe it. Maybe he was becoming paranoid, seeing crimes where there weren't any. Maybe he had overreacted. Did he attack his father? He didn't recall doing so, but there was video evidence, so it has to be true.

It takes years for Takaaki to be deemed sane. By that point, he's convinced himself that he really had made up all those accusations. Taka's already gone at this stage, off training for his grandfather's purposes. But Takaaki thinks he's just off at boarding school.

Now I'll get to the point of this 'little' tangent. I think Takaaki's the one who proves to Taka that he's being used. Takaaki's an officer, likely far higher in standing than in canon. So it's plausible that he'd be employed to investigate a string of strange deaths that's caught the eye of a few officials.

It would be quite interesting for Takaaki to realize that the 'string' of murders is actually far longer than they'd realized. It'd be even more interesting for him to realize that his son is the one behind the deaths.

Takaaki is a father first and an officer second. There's no way he'll allow his son to take the fall, especially not once it becomes clear that Torano placed him into the role. Takaaki would absolutely try to make his son see reason, which means making him see that he's being used.

Okay NOW I'll actually get to the point.

If Taka found out he was being used by his grandfather...Well it sure wouldn't be a pretty sight. We already know how Taka responds to his world being destroyed: denial, unresponsiveness, and manic behavior. That's how he responded upon learning that a guy he was friends with for 3 days was a killer.

Assassin!Taka doesn't see himself as a murderer. He sees himself as an executioner, dealing out capital justice to those who abuse their power. He kills those that are irredeemable, who harm others without any empathy.

But if that was all a life, if he was working for the corrupt rather than against...He'd be just as bad as the corruption he sought to destroy. He'd be a murderer.

Put that revelation onto the realization that the man who raised him since his parents left, the man he looked up to as the pinnacle of greatness, is himself corrupt. Has himself committed the same crimes Taka killed to stop. That Taka was nothing but a tool for that corruption.

Literally everything that Taka is in this au would be a lie. He's not killing for justice, his mindset isn't the correct path, his grandfather isn't fighting for justice.

I honestly think Taka would have an extreme, violent response to that revelation. He'd see both himself and his grandfather as irreparably tainted, absolutely dripping in the blood of the innocent. And Taka has known no means of removing such blots on human society but to personally wipe them out. So that's exactly what he go out to do.

Now I'm thinking about Taka and Takaaki hunting down Torano for some vigilante justice. All while Takaaki subtly tries to convince his son not to kill both Torano AND himself. It would be very hard for Takaaki to convince Taka that he was a victim of his grandfather, and not equally as guilty.

(this is also making me think of an au where Taka's hired by the FBI for his skills in a Black Widow situation)

Speaking of that, let's get to the "Taka's first kill is his grandfather" au.

The first and biggest question is: who the heck puts Taka up to it? It would not be easy. I'm thinking that, in the normal Assassin!Taka au, Torano spends YEARS grooming Taka into accepting killing. Nobody else would have that kind of extended access to Taka except his parents.

...

Except his parents. I'm literally having ideas as I type this. New idea! I'm going to make Taka's mom relevant (and evil)! Also I'm calling her Nori because I just need a name.

Perhaps Takaaki's marriage was arranged for political reasons more than love. He had to marry wealthy, and ended up marrying the daughter of a wealthy businessman.

And that's a very useful position, isn't it? Nori is in a perfect place to learn the intimate details of the Ishimaru family. She can learn what little squabbles the family has amongst one another, what weaknesses there are, anything she could need.

Her parents are well acquainted with several politicians, all of whom are more than willing to act in favor of her family's company. All of whom are itching to become Prime Minister.

So a plan is made to leave the position of PM vacant. Assassinate Takaaki, frame Torano, get someone who'll act in favor of the company in control. Maybe throw in some Yakuza connections for flavor.

Nori is nothing if not a good actor. So when a bullet comes through a window during a banquet, going straight through Takaaki's skull and spraying the table with blood, she acts just like you'd expect a loving wife to. The event falls into chaos instantly, guards swarming the area. And little Taka, who'd been so excited to wear his new suit to the event, has to be dragged away from his father.

Nori's job at this point is to act the part of the mournful wife, suddenly finding herself a single mother. She also is tasked with beginning the rumor mill, whispering of the animosity her poor late husband and his father had for one another. How she's afraid that Toranosuke is somehow involved and, if she isn't careful, will act against her and Taka.

Somehow Taka ends up hearing about it. And well, Taka isn't the type to hide his feelings as a teenager, and he certainly doesn't do it as a child. It's an unexpected complication to the plan. Taka isn't going to just let the rumor float about. He's ready to go straight to his grandfather and demand answers, which would ruin everything.

They could kill the child, it wouldn't be terribly hard. But perhaps Nori has some attachment to him, even if she knows he was only born as a prop for her role. The only other option is to make him part of the plan.

Why frame Toranosuke for murder when you can convince his grandchild that he's a horrible man? A man so powerful that even the law can't touch him? A man so powerful that only someone truly dedicated to justice can bring him down?

It isn't hard to convince Taka to poison his grandfather. The hardest part is training him to hide his anger long enough to get the job done.

So now Nori has made way for a business partner to become Prime Minister, and she's created a hitman for the company. Taka would be a much more loyal assassin than simple money could buy. He's got a vendetta against corruption and a tarnished faith in the justice system. And Nori is in the perfect position to direct his righteous anger towards those that 'deserve it'. And if her definition of who deserves death is different than Taka's? Well, he doesn't need to know that.

[hwallout]

quatervois - ljy

summary: “Listen up pretty boy, we’re both murderers. We carry the souls of hundreds on our weapons. It doesn’t fucking matter who our targets are. We’re the exact same; except, I’m honest and I only do this because it pays good fucking money, and what is it you’re striving for? With your ass always covered? Pitiful peace and justice? That’s pathetic. There’s no such thing in this job.”

words: 21,7k (this was 38 pages on word im,,,i birthed a monster im so sorry)

genre: assassin!juyeon, assassin!reader, angst, drama, fluff, crack if u use a microscope

warnings: (not explicit) violence, murder, language

early an: holy shit it’s here

The way you got introduced and became a part of such a job wasn’t exactly how one would imagine.

Becoming an assassin hasn’t been a direct wish of yours. As expected, in the beginning, this exact possibility had never crossed your mind. Growing up in an ordinary, middle-class household, it was expected of you to follow the footsteps of many. Never the smartest kid in class, but with a knack for logic and solving thought experiments, you’ve imagined becoming a philosopher of some type. Nothing too spectacular, but interesting enough and different than a usual 9-5 job.

So then, how exactly have you come to holding a knife against a random man’s throat almost daily?

Of course, while young, a person is prone to the effect of the outside world and people surrounding them. Some pupils are lucky enough to live in the best surroundings and are given amazing opportunities; therefore, they grow up into kind, successful people. Then, there are those who thanks to certain circumstances end up walking a different path, all of them hoping for the best possible outcome.

In today’s society, the importance of money was huge. It was expected that every family, containing at least one adult person, was able to deal with constant fluctuation of cash and sudden, unanticipated expenses. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case in many households and those kids had to experience helpless life without enough money, while their parents fought for every coin.

It was incredibly unfortunate that it affected you as well, even so in the worst possible moment – right before university.  

Thanks to stupid reasons that could’ve easily been prevented, your family fell into dept, causing both of your parents to find second jobs. Not having enough money to continue with a rather expensive education, you felt obliged to find a job.

And of course, being so young and ambitious, but mostly misfortune driven, you thought that the future of the household was in your hands. It was a must to find something that pays good, fast.

Consequently, the first night was spent scrolling down the endless pages of Google. You searched for something that didn’t require any special education (because of obvious reasons), but would generously help your situation. Seconds extended into minutes, those into hours, days even. Finding a good job with no degree was pretty hard, yet what else could’ve you expected?  

The issue had you visiting most irrelevant sites, clicking on shady ads (and installing a thousand viruses, probably), asking strangers in online chatrooms. Lost and unexperienced, you struggled and almost accepted the proposal of being a stripper in a famous strip club downtown.  

Almost.  

The job you were suddenly introduced to was something seen in movies and video games only. For whichever reason, it appeared in a dream one night. The dream had you play the main character, dressed in all black, doing all the terrifying, dirty work with random weapons, but being paid a huge sum afterwards. It was scandalous enough to have you hesitating for a little while upon waking up, disgusted at the thought of doing it.

Still, remembering the money filled suitcase, you’ve overcome the initial revulsion fast. Unexpectedly intrigued by the idea, you thought a little research couldn’t hurt anyone. Finding a reliable site that offered information on paid assassins only took a couple of minutes. The author of the article was an ex-FBI agent, therefore you thought there couldn’t be data more reliable than this. Upon a quick look, you’ve come to the conclusion that the study was most definitely written with intent of educating people on this topic, rather than motivating them to apply for it. Oh well.

From an objective point of view, it was exactly what you were looking for. It didn’t require any special degree from any university and it paid horrendously well, with small variations on the amount due to different employers. Reading further though, you realized that not just anyone can become an assassin, or hitman, as people liked to call it.

It demanded years of training, hard work and terrifying change. The author described it as “...complete mutation of one’s mind and personality, utter desensitization to almost everything. Those people become machines...”. You didn’t doubt their words, on the contrary, you believed them completely. It was only logical that a person has to get used to blood, extreme violence, emotionless murder, which were no ordinary or acceptable sights and actions. Of course, you were in denial, about to laugh at yourself for even reading the article seriously.

But then your eyes landed on the pay again. The numbers were huge. It would definitely help. Your family needed this. Sacrifices had to be made.

The next day, you bought a burner phone with the last bits of your savings. Entering an empty alley, you immediately dialed a phone number you’ve found at 3am. You didn’t know what was the worst that could happen, seeing as you were dialing a shady number from a shady website with shady intentions. Maybe the phone would blow up – in which case thankfully, it was a burner. But that then meant you wasted money with no reason.  

Thankfully, the other side picked up and scheduled a meeting for the next day.

Everything about it was suspicious, from the first to the last moment. From the first meeting with a tall, fat man, wearing an expensive suit and a shiny Rolex on his wrist, to the moment that exact man patted you on the back for good luck on your first mission.

The training was all you’ve expected and more. Tears, sweat and especially blood were shed during that tough period. You were put through complete torture – whether it be emotional or physical. In the beginning, they had you watch videos containing mild abuse of random people, only to progress to horrible violence as time passed by. In times where you wanted to look away, a stern and strong man would yell at you, ordering to stay focused on the task – one that would make you used and nonchalant to seeing such monstrosities.

You were trained to take words, threats and even hits with a straight face, only to return ten times harder. Sometimes you thought that self-defense classes you were offered but never took in the past, would’ve definitely helped with the current situation. Simple pistols were immediately introduced to you, strange looking men always pressuring you into improving the mediocre aim. More complicated guns and snipers were thrown in your direction upon noticeable improvement.

Surprisingly, they began “paying” you from the start. The big boss said it was because he noticed your potential and incredibly fast progress, therefore used the money as constant motivation for further improvement. Unfortunately, the trainees you’ve encountered weren’t so positive about it, saying it was the boss’ way of making sure no one ditches out once they enter (“you’ll have to pay the complete sum back, he basically indebted you”). The money you received wasn’t a lot, but it was definitely a good starting position.

In a relatively short period of time, a huge change happened. You’ve transformed from someone whose eyes watered at harsh words, body flinched at sudden movement and hands shook while holding a knife, to a person who had no trouble taking a hit to the face, only to counterattack by slitting throats.

Your knack for logic and solving thought experiments and predicting outcomes came in handy, for they’ve worked on further developing that as well. They created a thousand puzzles, testing possible situations (“you have to run away, which route do you take?", "two witnesses saw you; how do you deal with them without anyone else noticing?”), always questioning your answers (“but then wouldn’t that make you more exposed?”, “what if suddenly your target chose to change their usual route?”) and having you argument them thoroughly.

You were trained to notice even the smallest of similarities between two situations, perceive possible danger/risks, predict where a target would appear next based on their recent roundabouts and analyze certain types of behavior. Basically, they tried recreating situations that would slowly introduce you to the harder part of your future job – the planning, unnoticed execution and escape from the crime scene.

The boss had personally hired personnel to train your selective attention. Everything a normal person would pass by and dismiss, you’d notice. The unusual movement of leaves in the corner of your eyes, a black bird in a flock of dark grey ones, the inconsiderable change in a person’s demeanor, a reoccurring but overlooked detail in everyday situations.

Friends weren't particularly made in such a setting; therefore, like many others, you've been alone through it all. Evidently, you've noticed other people around, mostly teenagers who were just introduced to the whole thing – yet never really bothered or had enough time to go and meet them. Everybody was just as scared and hesitant as you were when it all started. In the end, who knew who you'd have to fight against in the future. “Save yourself a heartbreak”.

Interestingly enough though, there was a boy who caught your eye. You weren’t sure when he was recruited, for he never seemed lost or inexperienced. The boy would walk confidently around the training site, shoot exceedingly well at the shooting range and progress through his endurance training perfectly.

Silently, you watched and admired the handsome boy with attentive eyes. Everything about him was as captivating as ever, further piquing your interest with every passing day. His form and skill were envious, while his mature behavior and breathtaking looks stole your breath away.

Eventually though, the boy disappeared.

Your parents were a sensitive topic. At first, they were told the job you found didn't have fixed hours, which sounded like the only logical explanation for why you never came home at the same time.

When the training became more serious and the changes in your personality and looks became obvious, you stopped seeing them. The place of stay was a motel a couple of miles away from the training site (or the supposed store you lied working at). Despite their constant messages and phone calls, pleads to come back home and stop “overworking” yourself, you stood your ground. The money you were paid was still linked back to them, and after a while you were informed that the debt was no more.  

Unfortunately, though, you've come to the point where you didn't want to back out from this horrendous job. And a couple months later, the boss forced you to cut contact with your parents.

Maybe it was for the better, because it wasn't possible to predict if they'd even recognize you. Their daughter built muscle, had a scarred body and went through a drastic change of personality. The desensitization did wonders to young minds. It came to the point where you were able to firstly watch and then execute a certain violent act (on a specialized, human-like doll), without having to look away. The two elders definitely wouldn't want such a person in their household.  

Although there really should've been, there was no shame or regret once the trainee period was finished and your feet set out on the first ever mission and first real kill.

Fast forward a few years after the first mission, and you were considered a high valued assassin.  

There really was no proper reason, but the flow of the river happened to direct you towards the more infamous customers. Drug dealers, wanted criminals, corrupted politicians, all sorts of people involved with illegality hired you. Over time, you've gotten used to it. Already familiarized with customers, type of targets and forms of execution, switching to work for a different type of people simply stopped crossing your mind.

Your prices weren't low at all. Actually, they were one of the highest for the job, yet with a great reason. Despite the victim count passing hundred, there hasn't been a single case that was ever (properly) solved, the employers always getting away with their work. Not even once have you been suspected or connected to any of the assassinations either, and it was all thanks to your tactics.

One could argue that there weren’t many ways a person could be murdered, but you managed to prove such a statement wrong. Not a lot of executions you've done followed the same path – which only showed how creative but also knowledgeable your mind was.

Because of one simple hair strand, whose color faded a long time ago, they called you Red. The nickname stuck with you ever since those torturous, trainee days, and nowadays, it helped avoid using your real name. You doubted anyone even knew what it was.

An interesting period began during your sixth year. Numerous politicians, usually the ones that heavily opposed the new government, would be found dead around the city. Not just them, but gang and mafia leaders who became too powerful and prominent in the public eye as well – many of those who hired you in the past.

Much like always, this government experienced the lack of trust and satisfaction from citizens. Rightfully so though, the public demanded change after supposed rigged elections, finally having enough of the fake democracy. Heavy and frequent protests blew up the nation, huge crowds of people led by a few brave individuals. Unfortunately, though, a few weeks in, the leaders of those would be found dead after announcing the protest scheme.

The terrifying amount of sudden assassinations were never solved or explained. At least to the public. The huge leap in numbers shouldn’t have been thrown under the mat so easily, yet it just happened. People began living in anger and fear. All the officials had to say about it was a simple “we're looking into it, but it’s not our main priority”, words that only intensified the rage felt by the citizens. That topic would always be dismissed with the same exact answer, occasionally adding that those assassinated already had “worrisome and problematic backgrounds”.

“It was only a matter of time when something as tragic as death would happen to them”

The situations greatly benefitted them; they wouldn't make an effort to explain whatever happened even if they weren't involved. All of those people worked against them, one way or another anyway. Still, the murders weren't spontaneous, and just like many others, you caught onto their sly play.

For a little while, you tried getting some insight and information on the cases. Your intentions weren’t to solve them and serve justice, but rather find whoever was the one hired by the government. It was pure curiosity to know who was the infamous colleague.

The information given to the public (obviously) wasn't much, and you were left connecting all the different cases using simple wide shots and shitty descriptions. The best source of information appeared to be freelancing journalists, who published the most details. Unsurprisingly though, those weren't enough for a proper open case either, for someone evidently prohibited them from posting more.

One thing that had you frowning was the fact that everything was way too clean, perfect and similar to your own way of work.

Closing the laptop after reading yet another empty article, you looked around the dark room. Sighing out in frustration and cracking fingers one by one, you wondered if you're supposed to consider those people your actual colleagues or rather enemies.

The clock ticked eleven and fifteen; just forty-five minutes before midnight. The atmosphere in the tiny apartment was calm, no sound other than your quiet breathing heard. Darkness filling your bedroom was only interrupted by the big moon that greeted you through an open window. Yet, much like any other Friday, the outside world seemed to be bustling with life, getting ready for what's yet to come.  

Standing up, you stretched fast and walked towards the entrance door. Picking up a black coat from the hanger, keys and phone from the little table next to it, you headed outside. Tomorrow was yet another mission, this time a man by the name of Lee Baekgon. The reason was usual, another member of a gang who had involved himself with the government, becoming an unfortunate mole.  

Thanks to the extensive week-long watch and study you've done on the man you had gotten used to his ethics and everyday habits. The experience you had and the surprisingly uninteresting and bland life of Lee Baekgon allowed you to do so in such little time – which always brought more money. The faster the execution is, the more expensive it is, and of course, you cared about the amount in your pocket.

Now, having everything planned out and prepared, you went out for a relaxing walk – as per usual on the night before. The streets were filled with people, hurrying in all directions, either coming back from their late shifts or going out with their friends.

Setting a regular pace, you camouflaged into the crowd and breathed in heavily. Colorful lights from nearby stores lit up the street in a thousand shades, creating a unique palette out of the usually dull path. Your eyes skimmed over people, not really staying locked on anyone's head or scalp. All of them were plain shapes to you, only looking similar to those who you've had the job of executing. Either way, it was pleasurable to hear the overall sound of people. The voices, laughs, gasps.

Suddenly and surprisingly, as if trained, your eyes locked onto a tall, lean, dark blue haired man walking in the opposite direction. It could’ve been because of his height or hair, but he stuck out of the dense crowd like a sore thumb. The stranger wasn't looking at you, rather ahead of himself, but you immediately scanned his profile. An unfamiliar feeling spread through your body, sending shivers down your spine.

The man carried himself with a certain kind of confidence, his steps calm and collected. He held his head high, looking forward as if staring at an invisible dot, walking towards an unknown destination. His eyes, although dark and hooded, were sharp and focused. The nose bridge of his created a slight shadow over the side of his handsome face.

Unexpectedly, as if sensing your eyes, the man looked back for a short second. Immediately, a familiar image of a teenage boy who exceeded in all training fields flashed before your eyes. Alas, before you knew it the man was taking a sharp turn and straying away from view.

The organ inside of your chest performed one incredibly hard beat, before going back to normal. Someone bumped your shoulder, apologizing right away and breaking the short-lived daze. For another moment, you stood motionless, looking in the direction of the other, the blue strands now long gone.

Shaking your head quickly and picking the pace up again, you tried processing what has just happened.

You'd see the man quite often after laying eyes on him for the first time. He even had a nickname. Blue.

Blue's fashion was quite predictable now, for the man seemed not to prefer colorful clothes. During the day, his wardrobe consisted of simple t-shirts, black jeans and occasional black leather jacket. One thing that changed almost daily though, was the bag that he'd carry. Nonetheless, Blue would always walk as nonchalantly and confidently as ever.

Each time you'd encounter him, the man would remind you of that certain boy. Weirdly enough, Blue never once looked back, no matter how many times or how close you'd pass by. No matter what though, you'd notice the same pair of sharp eyes peeking through thick blue bangs – a feature you very well remember.

The second thing that would have anyone's interest piqued, was that you'd see the man at the shooting field as well. On the days when you decided on visiting and practicing your (already impressive) aim, he would already be there. You'd watch from afar, the last couple of shots he'd take before turning around to leave. The male never once stayed any longer. Blue wouldn't even check on his hits - he'd shoot thrice and leave immediately.

A thing that many would fail to notice, would be the fast movement of his arms as he pushed the gun back into his rucksack.

Over time, you've realized that the number of encounters with Blue was too great for a stranger. The possibility of it not being an accident started bugging you. Eventually, it became worrying.

In the dead time of the night, while walking through forgotten alleyways no one really passes through, you'd see him. On rainy nights, while everyone else ran or hid away as to not get soaked, Blue would walk calmly.  

And maybe he had always been there, yet you simply never cared or gave it enough attention up until recently. Or maybe, it was something more serious.

His sight would often be locked onto his feet, hands shoved deep into jean pockets. During the night, Blue would wear all black, a mask and hood frequently covering up his face, yet the dark blue strands never failed to peek out. He'd also wear the same black worn out backpack, the one he never brought out in the daylight.

Although you've met and dealt with many different kinds of people, never once had someone managed to make you feel so curious but anxious at the same time. Neither of those feelings felt good.

Despite your initial pleasant surprise, Blue became someone who you disliked pretty fast. It bugged you how the two worlds happened to overlap at the most unconventional of times. Whether it was when you were spying on someone, following them or coming back to the base with blood on your hands, the man would make his appearance. You suddenly felt as if this stranger had a whole insight of your life and knew all of your secrets. As if he was aware of your job and worked as a spy whose target was you.

Feeling apprehensive was something you never expected to experience, especially while out of work. For the first time ever though, you thought about executing someone who you weren't ordered to take out.  

Thanks to instances such as those stated earlier, you've developed a side mission over time. As if in you were in a game and suddenly had to unlock another small part of the main story to progress. There was an undying need to find out if your suspicions were correct and what exactly was so off-putting, upsetting about this man (who seemingly did no real harm to you). And of course, if there was a way to fix it before jumping to the last, desperate solution.

Truthfully, you never got any thrill from the pure act of execution. Taking someone's life was as emotional as raw poetry, but those emotions were never felt by the heart, much less the brain. Sometimes you wondered what your thoughts on everything would've been if you hadn't changed so much.

Taking another deep breath, you grit your teeth and backed the scared man against a wall. With a knife held close to his Adam's apple, the man gulped and winced for the last time. Fat beads of sweat raced each other against his neck. There was no remorse for the other – neither him or the rest of his happy family.

You didn't hear the pleads and wishes of the victim, as the cotton gag filling his mouth prevented any noise from escaping. The thin blade sliced through skin and flesh in a delicate manner, effectively damaging his windpipe. The man gasped for air, but only coughed back blood. White cotton soon changed color. Watching the white material turning red didn't make you feel any different, just like the eyes of the man who struggled in pure agony.

Only when it looked like the blood was about to create a puddle on the ground, did you remove the cotton. The other gasped two, three more times, too exhausted and lightheaded to take any action. With much force, you pulled the body towards an open manhole and dumped it inside, listening to the way it heavily fell into the water.

That's what drug debt does to you.

Closing the manhole up, you stuffed the bloody cotton inside your coat and hid the knife inside of your boot. Taking off black gloves and mask, you pushed them beside the cotton and walked in the opposing direction than the one you came from.

The connected alleyways seemed to go on forever, but they were no unfamiliar place to you. To say that you used them often wasn't a lie, but there was rarely anyone else doing the same. Light steps echoed shortly; the fog that unusually filled the tight space became thicker as you delved deeper. Suddenly, there was yet another echo coming from the other direction. The person was seemingly walking towards you. Unconsciously, you prepared to reach down for the knife.

Through the fog you could faintly make out a silhouette of a man approaching. Every step you took allowed a clearer view of the other, and eventually the full sight of his figure. With an exaggerated eye roll and in pure disbelief, you silently cursed your absolute luck. It once again proved to be just who you expected.  

Blue walked with hurried steps, something you haven't seen before. Upon coming close enough to you, he looked up from the ground, pace slowing down and eyes meeting for the first time in a long while. Time seemed to slow down as well for both, one short moment extending to unexpected lengths.  

Both were dressed in similar, dark attire, carrying a fake expression of innocence. Yet, the moment their irises met, a certain feeling spread throughout their bodies, as if they quietly confirmed it wasn't a coincidence that they met here at this time.  

No words were exchanged, the moment finally ending as you passed by each other. There was a strong urge to look back after the other, but an inner voice whispered quietly, saying it was smarter not to do so. Not even when the man's steps promptly stopped echoing and you felt eyes on your back.  

A couple of steps later, you picked up on a sudden, but barely noticeable smell of human blood. For a moment, you were tricked into thinking it was the cotton or knife that were stuffed inside your coat. Still, the closer you got to a certain container leaning against a building wall, you realized it couldn't be it.

Once a foot away from the huge object, you stopped. The smell wasn't at all strong, but still noticeable enough. You didn’t want to interfere with whatever took place, but it didn’t take long to realize someone laid dead in there. In the end, it was the smell you were surrounded with pretty much daily.

Dots were beginning to connect slowly, but you were once again forced into moving. The feeling of being watched was making you feel uneasy, but this time you were tempted enough to turn around.  

There was no one standing where you expected them to. He was gone.

Sighing out loud, you turned around, took a quick left and finally walked out of the alleyway. There were almost no people on the streets, and the weird feeling was finally gone. The walk back to the base was just enough time to analyze all the different possibilities that unexpectedly plagued your mind.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that it happened so soon.  

A few rather peaceful days have passed since your last encounter with him. Time seemingly fled by, but unlike many other, these days were calm. The missions have come to a stale; therefore, you effectively used your free time to do chores and visit the market. In the end, the fridge wouldn't fill itself up.

The thin paper bag swung side to side as you walked. Cans and bottles made an unrecognizable but even melody as they clashed against each other. Lost in thought, you aimlessly walked forwards, enjoying the cool gust of wind hitting your face.  

But then, in the corner of an eye, you picked up on a man running towards you.

He was in his forties, a body of short, strong and somewhat fat build covered by a formal, grey suit. There was little to no hair in the middle of his head, while two thick patches spread on the sides. He wore a panicked expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all but screaming for help. It took him only a few seconds to reach you.

“Miss?” The man panted, immediately bending down to place his hands on his shaking knees. “Miss, I beg for your help”.

Glancing at his face again, you recognized the other as Mr. White - a man who has been barking against the government quite a lot recently. The propaganda he preached was slowly but surely gaining more supporters, and it suddenly clicked for you. This little rat probably had a sudden reason to feel unsafe and afraid of experiencing the same end as many others. What a shame he was brave only on the TV.

For a moment, you were hesitant, unsure if accepting to help was a right thing to do. Especially when such a person was in question. You waited a minute, while the other gathered his thoughts and managed to form coherent words. He must’ve sensed your reluctance, for not another second was wasted before he began explaining.

“I’m sorry, I feel exposed and like I’m being followed and...” Mr. White went on, blabbering something you only hummed along to, while scanning the surroundings. The park he came from wasn’t that crowded, unlike the last time you’ve passed by. There were only a few families playing with their kids and people walking their dogs.  

Nothing out of the ordinary, yet a certain man walking a tall Doberman managed to have you interested.

“...that hooded man...”

Lips moving to form a smirk, you almost patted yourself on the back for suspecting the right person. The stranger was rather tall, wearing black fitting jeans and an oversized cherry red hoodie. Despite it being warm outside, a big hood was pulled over his head, and his face was somewhat covered by a cap he wore underneath. A strong hand gripped the chain leash that held a dauntingly big, black Doberman on a trained distance, walking in a calm pace. The dog was huge, with ears pointed up and forwards, steps elegant but threatening. One could swear that it could rip a man’s head off with one bite.

“Why didn’t you take a taxi?” You asked back, cutting off the current ongoing speech.

“I tried... I tried calling for one but... none... none stopped, please help me... stay with me, wait with me” He practically begged, knees bent and hands pressing together as if praying. Passerby watched the scene unfold with surprised expressions, some even mocking the way the male behaved. Frowning at the current situation, you pulled the man up by his bicep, not in the mood for any unnecessary drama. He looked way too pathetic.  

Nodding as a reply, you started walking towards the pedestrian crossing not so far away. On the other side, at the designated spot, you’d be able to call for a taxi.

The whole time, you ordered Mr. White to walk in front - as if your smaller form would be any coverage for him. Despite not being strong, the wind was still powerful enough to carry the quiet echo of footsteps behind you. The person walked with the same pace, keeping suspicious distance.

Once at the traffic light, you stopped. The panicked politician didn’t dare move, his limbs stiff and frozen like a paused frame. At the given moment, you weren’t sure if the man was even breathing – his chest wasn’t at all moving. Unfortunately, the wait for the light to turn green was quite long. The steps that used to echo behind you came to a halt as the suspicious man finally caught up. It was then that you turned around to look at him – eyes meeting with a pair that held no emotion inside of them.

Blue looked even more handsome up close and in broad daylight. With fierce eyes and dominant aura, he seemed quite intimidating. While his facial features now resembled a grown man, they once again reminded you of that certain young boy. It was a sudden flash of clear memory, something you’ve only experienced while crossing paths the blue haired man.

Blue attentively caught onto your interested gaze, for his eyebrow rose and lips formed a smirk. Slowly, as if you were supposed to notice, he glanced behind at the motionless politician and then back at you, this time with a wider smirk. Such a bold move.

And of course, it shouldn’t have surprised you that it was him. Coincidence no more; your doubts were crumbling down like a house of cards thanks to the sudden stimuli.

The black dog watched you like prey, hungry eyes tracking every move. Thankfully, it was properly held in its place by the stronger man.

As soon as the light turned green, Blue took off, not sparing any more attention to neither of the two. The Doberman trailed in suit, walking graciously beside its owner, following the exact pace. You let him a few steps ahead, before crossing the street with Mr. White who seemed more relaxed now.

Paying the last bit of attention to the young man, your eyes unconsciously trailed down his leg. Immediately, you noticed the outline of a certain object that strained against the material of his fitting jeans. With a quick analysis, you recognized the weird shape – it was a knife.

That was it; exactly all the additional information you needed. The young boy grew up to be someone you now worked against.

Work, work, work. That’s all your mind was filled with for the past few weeks, and with a good reason. Being an undiscovered assassin often demanded immense amounts of creativity (which really proved to be hard when unmotivated) to avoid similarities between cases. Sometimes, you even had to choose the riskier and more public approach, much like today.

The current mission demanded a month-long preparation and as crazy as it might sound, obtaining explosive was the easiest part of it. You were lucky to have a couple of acquaintances who somehow had the exact stuff you needed, and at a great price as well.

For exactly four weeks, you’ve watched over a certain man, a tall, strong and well-known drug dealer called K. Besides actively selling all sorts of opium and illegal substances, the man led a powerful gang named The Vipers. You’ve never been hired by that gang, but you’ve heard a lot about them through numerous connections and accidental eavesdropping. Sometimes, you thought that assassins were the biggest threat to their employers, thanks to the amount of insider knowledge they pick up on over time.

The Vipers heavily depended on their leaders, brothers K and B. The older sibling, K, as the stronger leader, took most control over their big bites, while B did the other, sporadic and less serious work. Still, they cooperated perfectly, working in sync to create a big, illegal underground market, that the government never spoke about.

Unfortunately, they got themselves into a big fuss with another powerful gang, Weiro, the details never once directly explained to you. There were a couple of things that you could’ve suspected went down, but really, it wasn’t your job and interest. Anyhow, Weiro employed you, with a strict order to kill K in an extravagant way that will have his gang warned properly. Their request had your eyes rolling back; music wishes were never a favorite.

For a whole month, you studied the man, all of his whereabouts and paid attention to the people he interacted with from an unassuming distance. While K probably lived a very stressful and interesting life behind the closed doors of his hideouts and warehouses, his everyday ethics were pretty bland and easy to predict. Of course, you weren’t the one to complain, for it made your job easier.

During that time, you’ve also thought of an extravagant but careful enough way to finish the mission. Thankfully, creativity wasn’t a skill you lacked most of the time.  

The plan was simple when broken down. Every third day, at 4pm, K. drives from his home to The Vipers’ main warehouse. He takes the exact same route to reach that destination in the shortest period of time, driving either his black Porsche or B’s red Dodge. Both cars were one of a kind in the area. There are exactly 6 traffic lights he has to stop at before advancing to the highway and leaving the city. With some advanced work, you managed to interfere with them through a tiny device that was set up and connected to a phone. It still didn’t work at command (which you wish it did), but it bought some time by prolonging the red light.

Thankfully, your city had a wide chain of sewers that spread under every single street, numerous manholes leading in and out.  

The public town cameras positioned at almost every corner were connected to your phone as well, allowing a great view of the street you’ll be operating on – or underneath, for a better narration. Navigating through the sewers should be relatively easy, thanks to the map you’ve studied numerous times. After interrupting the traffic light, K’s car will (presumably) stop right above a manhole, through which you’d be able to set up a 30-second explosive. The car should explode a street away, killing K.

Surprisingly enough, the plan worked out perfectly. With hurried steps you’ve walked into one of the empty alleyways, immediately running towards an already open manhole. There was a bright yellow warning that indicated a hole in the ground – one that no one closed even after a whole year of the sign just standing there. Looking around for the last time, you slipped in, sprinting away the moment your feet touched the ground.

Steps echoed through the empty tunnel, contact with wet surface only creating loud splashing noises. Currently, the screen of your phone was split, half showing the camera display of the street and half exhibiting a blue button and a frozen counter. A few minutes of fast navigation through the sewers, you looked up, realizing the designated place was there. A quick look up granted proof that the plate was there. K was then taking a turn, only a few hundred meters away from you.  

With a quick and forceful tap of the blue circle, you watched the light turn red.

The powerful vehicle driving closer appeared even louder down there. When K stopped and the noisy engine came to a halt, the cameras were there to confirm his perfect position. Hurriedly, you climbed up, working the plate open with a miniature crowbar (that you carried in a backpack, along with the explosive). Then, with calculated and calm movements, the metal cover was carefully moved and the car was right there.

Huge amount of smoke entered through the opening, making you cough. Much like always, time was precious and there were only twenty more seconds. Skillfully, you securely tied the tiny bomb to the underside of K’s vehicle, closing the manhole up and setting the timer off immediately after.

The light turned green and the mighty engine roared for its last time.

Taking a clean jump down, you ran back the same way. Somewhere in the middle, you heard a huge bang, followed by strong vibrations of the ground. Smirking, you nodded in satisfaction because of yet another case well done.

Outside, on the main street, while many panicked about the car currently on fire and a dead man inside, the familiar blue-haired stranger watched with calm in his irises. He was leaned on one of the walls, laughing at the scared pedestrians and their clumsiness. Then, as if programmed, the moment you came out of the alleyway, he turned to face you.

Caught like a deer in headlights, you stopped in tracks. Blue smirked boldly, nodding slightly with a raised eyebrow – as if giving props for the finished job. Once again, an anxious feeling overtook your body, slight goosebumps appearing on soft skin. Gulping, you took a deep breath and walked right past, trying not to look intimidated by his sharp gaze.

Despite the familiarity you felt, Blue never once showed any signs of knowing who you once were or where you came from. Yet, it looked as if he knew exactly who you were and who you worked for currently, which was a worse situation to be in.

Once again, you aimlessly walked through lit up, bustling streets. Unnecessarily, you felt like a part of the normal community during these times. The chilly wind was somewhat relaxing against warm skin, serving as a distraction from overthinking. There were a thousand things that could go wrong every time, and thinking about them wouldn’t make anything easier. In the end, your skill and instincts never failed you, every move already memorized as muscle reflex.

About twenty minutes in, you caught onto a familiar person a few meters ahead. There was a small group of people separating the two of you, therefore they allowed short glimpses. Still, the tall, lean physique and dark blue hair that gleamed under the street light, gave their identity away. It was him.

The man’s posture was something you were already used to – relaxed, with steps long but calculated. His head was bent down lifting up for a second only, before falling down again. With the way his arms were positioned, you supposed the male held a phone or some sort of device in his hands.  Not daring to approach, you chose to follow his movements from a safe distance.  

A tall, strong man took a quick right turn into one of the side streets, effectively distancing away from the crowd. You wouldn’t have paid any special attention to him, if it weren’t for Blue’s gradual stop as well. Choosing not to blow the cover off, you continued with the same pace for a little while, ignoring the other as you passed right by. After about thirty more steps, you sat on one of the free benches that allowed a clear view of the blue haired man.

He stood on the same place, now leaning against one of the street lamps, phone still in hands. The device lit up Blue’s beautiful features, his stern eyes occasionally looking up and at the direction that man disappeared in. From his actions, you presumed he was the next target, and the assassin was only studying his behavior and roundabouts.

Although you couldn’t see, Blue watched the man enter one of the buildings, then waited for the lights on the 3rd floor to turn on and a window to be opened, much like always. When that happened, he pushed the phone into his jacket and turned around, happy with the final observation. You sneakily watched from afar, admiring the relaxation and carefreeness.

Then unexpectedly, Blue turned his head slowly, eyes meeting with yours. They found you so easily and that’s when you realized there was no cover to begin with. The uneasiness once again itched your skin. It was clear that he was aware of your positioning, hell, he probably even knew when you were behind him. The man’s eyebrow rose in an amused manner, before he looked the other way and walked away.

Something told you to go and follow.  

Taking careful and light steps between people, you tried to stay as low-key as possible, although the other probably expected – scratch that, knew – you were behind. His phone rang, an annoying ringtone interrupting the previous atmosphere. Blue picked up quick, talking quietly but laughing loudly at whatever the person on the other end said. Quickening the pace, you were able to get close enough to hear pieces of their conversation – unfortunately it wasn’t anything interesting, rather a casual talk between two friends. You suspected the man used this as a foolish cover.

Suddenly, he turned a corner, disappearing right behind. The phone call was still ongoing, his strong voice echoing through the alleyway for just a short period of time before getting lost in silence. You waited a couple of seconds before advancing.

It was your shadow that first made it around, but it made no effort of warning you about what’s to come. A silent scream left your lips, as the man you’ve been stalking for the past twenty minutes stood right ahead. His body was so incredibly close, minty breath fanning against your face. The corner of his lips formed a teasing smirk.  

“Hello, Red” He spoke, voice low, but with a pinch of playfulness in it. His big hand lifted up and reached behind your ear, taking a hold of a certain strand of hair. Noticing the expected color was no more, Blue frowned lightly. “Oh? It’s not red anymore?”

His act evidently surprised you, eyes wide open and lips parted slightly. The fact that he called you Red had only increased the bewilderment. A battle of foreign emotions started inside of your mind and chest. A foreign, bubbly feeling was fueled by pure hope that the other somehow remembered you, while the rational mind suspected the man’s real intentions and knowledge. In the end, Blue had never once interacted with you directly, how would he know about a hidden strand? Who did he hear it from?

“Hello, Blue” You replied, looking him right in the eyes and choosing to ignore his previous question. There was a slight tinge of dominance in your words, something that the other wasn’t quite expecting. “Nice to finally meet you”

“Haven’t you a long time ago, though?” He questioned, the smirk now turning into a light-hearted smile. Something about it had you wanting to wipe it off immediately. Nevertheless, his words once again had a double meaning. They echoed in your mind, replaying like a never-ending mantra. Technically, the two of you were no strangers, but what reason should you give him? Was it thanks to the faith that intertwined your paths or was it the history you’ve indirectly shared?

“Let’s just say I like to make things formal like this” The more you observed the man’s features, the more you grew intrigued. He was just so perfectly sculpted, and it made no sense that someone as breathtaking as him busied himself with such dirty work. Yet, God only knew what had forced the young boy to choose such a path.

“Well then, my name is Juyeon” Blue extended his hand for a handshake, once again showcasing just how big his hands were. Not bothering to take the gloves off, you accepted his greeting, somehow managing to feel the roughness of his palm over the black leather. A quick mutter of your own name was seemingly enough for Juyeon, for he hummed along and repeated it with the same tone. You didn’t miss the smooth flow of the vowels off his tongue.

Tranquility enveloped the small alleyway. Wind blew through it in strong waves, messing up your hair. Two frames stood just a step away, never once breaking eye contact, but prolonging the silence that swallowed every other sound. It was becoming awkward, yet neither knew how to bring up topics that obviously interested both.

“So, want to grab coffee, or?” Juyeon asked, breaking the suffocating atmosphere. His words served as a splash of cold water that brought you back into Reliaty, eyes averting their gaze for the first time. You watched a rat run from one trash can to the other, disappearing behind it in a matter of seconds.

“No, I actually have something more important to do” The truth was, you wanted to go with him out of pure curiosity, but a lot was holding you back. Even after imagining this exact moment a thousand times, you weren’t sure you were ready for it. Apart from that, there was yet another more impulsive reason for the refusal. You’ve been taught that everyone was an enemy when looked at from the right angle, especially in this job. Therefore, you were to deny as a precaution to not allow just anyone to use any information against you.

And what’s the most unfortunate was that Juyeon wasn’t just anyone. He was exactly your type. Which meant that he was both the most dangerous and safest of them all. The worst combination.

“But less important than following me for about...” The male looked down at his watch, an expensive device tightly secured around his wrist, “20 minutes?”. Blue's expression was one of curiosity, probably anticipating the reply to his remark.

“I had time to kill” It wasn’t at all believable, but the other let it slide with a slight chuckle. He glanced at you with an amused look, before speaking.

“Kill huh? Working so late?” Juyeon teased, the chuckle from before now growing into an audible laugh. Truthfully, this exact reply had caught you off guard pretty well and the silence that suddenly spread was a solid proof of it. Fortunately, though, the other allowed time to think of an answer properly, all while having the cheekiest smile spread on his lips.

“Why so surprised? Weren’t you doing the same a little while ago?” Juyeon nodded at your question, shoulders shrugging fast as if to nonchalantly approve of it. You were quite surprised with his quick confirmation that didn’t hold a pinch of hesitance. It felt as if he was perfectly fine with verifying all of your suspicious and letting you know about the trivial things. Logically speaking, it was only fair, considering how much he apparently knew about you.

“Well then... I can’t do anything about your time” Tsking to show fake disappointment, the male pushed his hands into tight jean pockets and gazed down. It was surprising that he wasn’t pushing the proposal, rather accepting the denial. For whichever reason, your pride accepted a decent hit. With one foot, he carelessly kicked a rock on the ground with a heel, making something underneath his shoe cling. The sound didn’t go unnoticed.

“I guess I’ll see you around then” Juyeon added, before turning in the other direction and slipping away. Before you could react, the man was already ten steps ahead, carrying himself in the same relaxed fashion as before. His steps echoed, the soles of his shoes way too hard on the ground. Upon a quick accidental look, you noticed a piece of shiny metal on his heels, reflecting off the light that happened to hit them directly. Huffing was your only reaction to it.

The whole way back, your thoughts were a hectic mess, one that couldn’t be calmed down, for they always wandered towards the blue haired assassin.

You never really liked warehouses, for they were way too open. Thankfully though, the one you were working in today wasn’t empty – crates and boxes filled with unknown substances and materials were scattered all around, as well as machinery that’s used to move them around. Overall, all of those objects allowed much cover and plenty of room to comfortably work around the broad place. Moreover, your steps weren’t going to echo too much in such a setting.

Today’s target was a man named Captain Lee, a case similar to about a hundred others previously assigned – work with government officials. You never cared how many people did what, but you supposed the most died because they hadn't paid their part of the deal or smuggled with the government. Either way, they happened often and you will never run out of work just because of that.  

Hidden and on a great distance, you watched Lee and another man (assumed government official) enter the warehouse. Unfortunately, both had a generous number of bodyguards, but luckily, none were allowed inside. The huge door was the only easy entrance option, but since that would immediately ruin the mission, you decided to infiltrate some other way. Working fast and precise, you climbed up set of drainpipes and entered through an open window on the roof. Done in less than three minutes – record time. Dropping down was a more challenging move, but nothing too bad, for you entered far enough from the two men to remain unnoticed.

Your shoes that were two sizes bigger, proved to be a bigger hassle today than ever before. The metal railing was very hard to move over without making any unnecessary sound. The mask on your face helped you breathe properly, the air being way too stale for anyone’s liking. Thankfully, there were no major light sources that would interfere with your cover. Full black attire matched perfectly with the semi-dark surroundings.  

The voices of the two males weren’t loud, but in an empty space like this, the echo was immense. It helped you navigate around or between the crates and gigantic shelves in the most accurate manner. The pistol in your hand was already equipped with a silencer, your hand reaching up to stabilize it for the last time. Slowly, you sneaked closer, back pressed against a set of boxes.

Then, unpredictably, something moved in the corner of your eye.

Stopping dead in tracks, your full attention moved to the staircase not so far away. It was protected by one of the huge machines – those you supposed organized all of these crates. Your mind promptly wandered off to the worst scenario – it must’ve been a guard you failed to notice. Gripping the pistol with more force, you aimed at the suspicious area, holding the bullet in, but ready to fire if needed.

Despite the darkness, you noticed a puff of blue hair. Lowering the gun with an inaudible sigh, your eyes rolled back, jaw clenching in frustration. The boy peeked out carefully, irises finding yours in an instant. He nodded in your direction, hand moving slightly in a low wave.  

Looks like the day has come when the two sides get to work together.

Juyeon seemed to realize that as well, for he moved closer to the edge of his cover, evidently willing to make a plan of action. For a moment, ego and pride made you think about ditching the offer, why would you ever need help? But on a second thought, he would definitely make everything easier, and who in their right mind would deny that? Shuffling closer, you accepted the silent proposal with a nod.

Although far away, the two succeeded in communicating through short signals, functionally organizing a proper scheme. You’ve got to know the male was equipped with a knife only – which really didn’t make things easier, but it was possible to work around it.

Juyeon got moving quick after ending the discussion, making his way around the warehouse. You watched his steps until he disappeared, readying yourself to fire at Lee and disappear if anything goes wrong. In the end, you weren’t going to risk getting caught because of someone else’s mistake all while already being so close to completing your part of the job.

Once in position, the other assassin threw a coin in another direction, the tiny object immediately serving as a distraction. Exactly then, both of you jumped out of cover, not giving the two men any reaction time before It was too late.

Juyeon grabbed the official from the back and covered his mouth with one hand, the other coming up to slit his throat, while you fired two rounds at Lee’s head. The pistol, although suppressed, made two sets of noises that still sounded through the warehouses.

Experienced, you knew that if the bodyguards had trained ears, they’d pick up on the sound. Therefore, in a hurry and with a wish to get out of there asap, you grabbed Juyeon’s unoccupied hand and took off running. Hurried steps probably made more sound than the shots you were worried about, but thankfully there was still no one that could hear them.

Juyeon diligently followed behind, holding onto the thin blade and occasionally looking back at the entrance door. Fortunately, both of you were able to reach the exit in a matter of few minutes. Just a moment before slipping out, he picked up on a glimpse of two bulky silhouettes entering the warehouse. Pay people to protect you, only to be murdered without witnesses. Bodyguards my ass, Juyeon thought.

Neither spoke until far away from the mission location. Walking through the woods, both tried making as little noise as possible, gripping their weapons tight just in case there was any more danger. In the natural setting, black clothes greatly contrasted the greens, yellows and browns. Nonetheless, the two figures silently walked through with determination.

Only when in complete clear, did the both stuff their weapons inside their attire, taking the hoods and masks off before anyone could notice. More relaxed and less covered up, you’d look like a normal couple taking a walk in the nature. The road you took led towards the center of the city, but it was a long, long walk.  

After scanning your emotionless face for a few minutes, Juyeon was the first to break the silence.

“Don’t you feel the smallest bit of remorse? He had a sick wife and year-old twins waiting for him at home” The question was a pure shocker. Instantly stopping in place, you looked the other in the eye with the most baffled expression. Out of everything he could’ve asked, that’s what he chose to say? Was he judging you? Was he expecting you to actually care?  

You weren't sure where he was coming from.

“Excuse me? Do you? Are you any better than I am?” You bit back, hoping the pure annoyance that dripped from your words reached the other. Juyeon’s face didn’t change at all though, it remained blank, as if your passive attack hadn’t even touched him. As if you were getting worked up for no reason.

“He didn’t have a family; I don’t sign such things; therefore, I don’t feel that way” The male replied, in a matter of fact tone. His attention wasn’t on you, but an invisible dot in the distance, somewhere between all of the trees and bushes. Still, he could clearly feel you looking at him with a suspicious expression.

“Don’t look at me with those eyes. I have a choice and I choose not to do it, simple as that. Not everyone works for the same people and has the same goals as you”

You wondered how can someone make your blood boil in such a short period of time. Much like you, Juyeon trained for years; it was a fact that he had no empathy for any of his victims – such thing was inevitable. Every assassin in training had to go through the desensitization program, and no one was different than the other when it came to feelings of this kind. So, what exactly was he trying to do with his questions?

Why did it matter if you cared or not? Why did it matter if someone had a family or not? What was the difference? Just because he worked for ‘the good guys’, he got to be the morally right one? What even was it they fought for? Peace, order, harmony in the community as a whole? Or satisfaction, more power of the hungry ones on top by murdering individuals? You had to laugh.

All these years of work and you’ve never once stopped to think about someone’s family or friends, for it simply wouldn’t have changed anything about the final decision. “No hard feelings” was one of the few rules of the whole ordeal. Killing people was your job, the execution of someone didn’t have anything to do with their sick wives or young children.  

You stepped forward, pressing a finger into Juyeon’s chest.

“Listen up pretty boy, we’re both murderers. We carry the souls of hundreds on our weapons. It doesn’t fucking matter who our targets are. We’re the exact same; except, I’m honest and I only do this because it pays good fucking money, and what is it you’re striving for? With your ass always covered? Pitiful peace and justice? That’s pathetic. There’s no such thing in this job.”

At this point, you were fuming, jaw clenched and eyes boring holes into the other’s forehead. Although your voice was hushed, it was quite authoritative. The boiling blood that flowed through veins quick only fueled your irritated brain. Truthfully, the boy did feel slightly intimidated, but more so intrigued.

“Get your head out of that utopia mindset. “Oh I’m killing because that helps keep our community peaceful”, no! You’re killing to make the rats on the top happy and get paid a fortune! You’re taking a life whoever you’re working for. It does not matter if they have ten starving children, or a sugar baby waiting for them at home. There’s a reason they should be dead and you’re not the one to question it! Much less using family as an argument! That’s pointless!”

Juyeon didn’t try and oppose your thoughts, only watched your annoyed being work itself up with every sentence spoken. The smirk on his lips slowly grew wider, eventually turning into an honest smile. Although not in ideal conditions, you managed to captivate him so much, and the man wanted to know and hear more from you, even if that meant you had to yell at his reasoning.

It was interesting how the tables have turned though. Juyeon suddenly wanted to continue observing and listening to you, admire this smaller being that held so much power and determination. It was only now that the male realized the appeal of doing so, after so many years of wondering just what had you looking at him from a distance for so long. The two of you were so different now, despite being so similar back then. Yet the one thing that hadn't changed, was the beauty of the young girl that had evidently followed her into adulthood.

He’d hardly admit it, but he was glad that faith had done its job at setting the two of you up again.

Thanks to your state, the next fifteen minutes went by without any more words. Juyeon kept a safe distance, a couple of steps behind you, unsure of what to do. The tension was beginning to make him uncomfortable. At one point, the thin blade placed inside of his hoodie moved, and the boy let out a fast yelp. The knife managed to shift in such a way that fortunately didn’t harm, but warned the other of its position.

Juyeon crouched down and pushed one arm underneath his hoodie, moving the weapon and trying to push it deeper into the hidden fluffy pocket. For whatever reason, worried about the lack of presence behind, you turned around and noticed the man crouching down, an uncomfortable expression on his face. Approaching out of pure curiosity, you lowered to be on eye level – not quite expecting Blue’s next move. Just to break the unbearable tension, he thought.

With a quick grasp of your arm, Juyeon pulled you towards him, falling back into the soft grass. The two figures fell down, one of which was smirking wide with hooded eyes and the other wore an astonished expression.

“You see Red, you’re some type of enemy for the regime as well, working for sketchy people and killing unnoticed... Be more careful, otherwise I can make some money off you too” The boy joked, voice calm but low. His sudden change of demeanor had you pleasantly surprised and without much thought, you joined in on the play. Situated on top of him, you lowered yourself down, just a few inches away from his face.

“Oh, you can, but you won’t” You replied back, a smirk of your own bidding its hello.

“What makes you think I won’t?” Juyeon answered, suddenly pressing something sharp against your stomach. In any other instance, the action would have immediately set off your self-defense mechanism, but right now, the man was allowed to have his harmless fun. Somehow, you felt the other wasn’t a threat, and your senses never lied to you.

“Because it’s against your morals, pretty boy. You wouldn’t dare. You kill only when ordered and I highly doubt I was ever on your list” With that, you managed to take home a doubtless checkmate. The man tried ignoring the way you called him for the second time that day. Slowly but surely, you took a hold of Juyeon’s big hand that held the weapon and moved it away to a much safer distance. The other let you, without any protest or fight back.

“Plus... I don’t think I’m working against you; I don’t touch anyone else but the bad guys, remember?”

At such close proximity, it was possible to predict what were the thoughts of both. Unexpectedly though, beside a moment-driven need to press your lips together, there was a hidden feeling of understanding and content. Both remained in the exact position for a little while, breathing the same air and enjoying this unique situation.

Without any special reason, you lifted up and touched Juyeon's nose with a soft finger. The act changed the atmosphere quick and caused both to giggle, pleasantly surprised to experience it recklessly Mindfully, you then hoisted yourself up and off the boy, helping him get on his feet as well.

An imperceptible crack formed inside of your soul, something that was just a beginning of a storm.

The next two weeks passed by without any encounters. You took time off to regain energy before moving onto the next scheduled and fixed mission, while Juyeon busied himself with the usual, easy executions. He’d run around the city, hang about in underground passages throughout the day and sneak through alleyways during the night. His victims weren’t big bites at all, for he had gotten used to simple cases of unprotected individuals.  

Juyeon has always been covered by the government, which was to be expected since he did work for them. Every single life the assassin had taken, was never recorded in his dossier, for it remained as clean as ever. The cases he and a few other colleagues worked on were never investigated properly, always thrown under the mat or closed by the court after a few days. It often happened that innocent people were forced to take blame, just so the families of victims felt ‘content’ and ‘justice’ - despite it being far away from that.

The boy had a proper reason for why he chose the path of paid assassination. It's not rare to hear that people who’re born in a violent environment grow up to be violent as well – and unfortunately that was exactly what happened to the blue haired assassin.

Juyeon was only seven when he had lost a dear parent. On an unfortunate night, his father had come home shitface drunk and proceeded to beat up his mother. It was sad to say, but the boy, as well as his younger brother, were used to violence, as it occurred almost daily. Their mother would always usher the two youngsters into their rooms, before she strongly took all of the anger of the older so her kids wouldn’t have to. The man had rarely ever come home sober, and the number of times they listened to the pitiful gasps and cries downstairs was way too great to count.

Still, one night, Juyeon noticed his mother laying on the ground in a pool of red liquid and her mouth parted with eyes fixed on an invisible dot. The father, enraged and unable to process the situation properly, lunged towards him. With extreme amount of luck, Juyeon managed to shield his younger brother for a second, immediately grabbing him by the hand and running out into the open.

Even so young, Juyeon was aware of everything. Raindrops fell in an even, calm rhythm on the pavement while the sky flashed every now and then. He ran almost barefoot, the socks on his feet soaked by the wet pavement. All the time, he held tight onto the younger’s hand, encouraging him to continue running despite everything else. The teddybear his brother carried was dragged along the ground, plastic nose creating a strange noise over asphalt ground.

It took a long time until they were able to find someone on the streets in such weather. One young and reliable looking woman stood under a shop shade, seemingly waiting for the pour to stop. Mindfully though, she ran out of cover to help the same moment they came into view. The woman was shocked and distressed, listening to the heartbreaking story of two young souls who spoke through never-ending tears, their voices breaking with every sob.

Juyeon and his brother were taken into custody quick, and their father was arrested in a matter of one day. Sadly, the siblings were soon separated, both going into different families due to unknown circumstances. They never saw each other again.

Juyeon grew up into a teenager with a never dying urge to get revenge on his father. The picture of his mother lying dead on the ground replayed behind his eyelids every time they closed, it only fueling the hidden fury. He couldn’t fall asleep easily and when it somehow happened, he wouldn’t sleep for long as the image would haunt his young mind even then. Juyeon was unwillingly updated on the state of his father, who he visited not even once.

Either way, Juyeon silently plotted how to get back on the remaining parent, not letting anyone know anything about those plans – which fell apart in the end. The elder died in prison two years later – cause unknown. Juyeon hadn’t bothered to go to the funeral.

The teen ended up without a revenge, nor the justice he thought his mother deserved. Juyeon turned towards bad habits and streets fights, often falling victim to toxic relationships. Everything he did was to ease off the horrible feeling of guilt and anger he simultaneously felt. Secretly, everyone feared him, his sharp words and skills, despite the boy never doing any intentional harm to others without a proper reason. The fights Juyeon got into were only when he felt immoraly wronged, or when someone really pissed him off.  

Eventually, the boy was introduced to the job he’d later become a professional at. Young Juyeon thoroughly thought this tough decision over many times, especially when standing before the big, bossy man who immediately offered him a contract. The older said that people like him tend to be perfect for the job, particularly when driven by a certain emotion – something that would drive them on. At first, Juyeon wasn’t sure where he would end up with a “degree” in assassination, therefore hesitance was a reasonable reaction.  

Sly as a fox though, the boss used unfortunate history against the rookie. Juyeon was told that if he did well enough, there’s a chance he’d be accepted into the government guard – and it fought for justice and peace.  

It was surprising how kids of different backgrounds happen to receive the same treatment and training, only to end up on different places again. One could think that since everyone experienced identical programs, they were meant to work together – when it was the exact opposite. The minor differences in performance and work ethics that could easily be overlooked, were the ones that labeled you a certain position. And unfortunately, it often depended on just what kind of person they turned you into.

Juyeon thought about his time there often. Short pieces of memory flying by and disappearing in an instant. The six years he spent watching different clips of torture and learning how to flawlessly execute a silent murder. All the days his mobility was challenged – running the same course, climbing different heights and crawling through miniature gaps while carrying different weapons.

He thought about all the different people there, all of the kids that he watched get beat up and heard scream – many of those giving up after only days of training.  

But she never did.

The little girl that always observed his practices and paid attention to his every move, as if she was trying to remember them as well. He remembered the younger taking everything thrown at her like a complete champion, determination and will for success written over her face in bold letters. Juyeon always wondered just what it was that made her so persistent.

Shivers ran down his spine as the face of the little girl in his head took on familiar lines. They formed a mature and stoic, yet beautiful as ever face. Juyeon sighed loudly, still not processing the fact that faith made it be so their paths crossed again.

How exactly the two of you managed to find each other so fast in a club full of people, was unexplainable. It could’ve been a sixth sense that you’ve developed, for the two pairs of eyes immediately locked the moment you walked in. Thanks to previous experiences and an uninteresting game of guessing, you’ve come to the realization that once again, the playing field was same for both.

Slowly creeping up to the man, you threw your hands around his neck, attempting to dance to whatever song the DJ was remixing. It was an easy way to get blended into the crowd and communicate with the other without raising suspicion. Flashing colorful lights along with the excessive amount of fake mist and sweaty people once again reminded of the reason why you didn’t like clubs. But alas, work had to be done.  

Juyeon had caught onto your plan, but the smirk and hooded eyes clearly showed that he was quite amused with your boldness. Carefully, his big hands creeped up to your hips, bringing close to his and swaying them to the beat of the song. With a gasp of surprise, you giggled, turning around in Juyeon’s hold, back pressed flush against his strong chest. The male’s head moved closer, lips lingering just above your ear. Out of pure curiosity, with a swift move, your ass ground against Juyeon’s crotch, eliciting the sweetest gasp in return. Before any remark could be made, you glanced back, speaking in such a volume that no one else heard.

“Who is it tonight?”  

“One of the sisters, Yuri” Juyeon replied, voice low and rough, soft lips finally touching your ear. The grip on your hips tightened, as a precaution to not dare pull the same trick twice. Although the colorful tints of flashing lights turned the whole room into hectic mess, Juyeon was thankful for it hid the flush that unknowingly overtook his features.

“Oh, how exciting!” You replied in a sarcastic tone. “I’m here because of Aria!” The answer received a hum of understanding in return.  

The two sisters, Aria and Yuri, while not the most influential on the streets, had managed to get themselves involved in quite a few problems with the big ones, for a short period of time. To know that the fall of both happened due to one’s mistakes was slightly disappointing. It was one of those rare cases you were disclosed all details, and simply put, it had your eyes rolling back. Everything could’ve been easily sorted out.

Despite being twins, they were complete opposites. Aria was always the calm, calculated and careful sibling, while Yuri ran around, causing problems, concerning herself with illegal jobs and getting away with it thanks to her connections. Those associates often asked for something in return, and more often than not, it was someone with some type of political power. You guessed that’s why Juyeon was here tonight. Can’t say it wasn’t to be expected.

Aria, although the more mature twin, got dragged into everything thanks to Yuri. Surprisingly enough, she managed to find a place in the community fast. At first, Aria often did the dirty and hard work of finding new druggie customers for her bosses. Eventually, she progressed and ranked up significantly (no one really knows how she did it so fast), finally allowed to deal crack and heroine by herself – while of course having to pay a percentage back to the leader. The semi-autonomy was there in theory.  

It all went smooth and well until Yuri found out. To her irrational brain, it only meant free shots of fun every time she needed it. Therefore, like a fool, Yuri started using the drugs her sister had to sell, without giving a coin back. Whatever the reason was, Aria let her.

Debt happened fast, as Aria couldn’t pay back enough money, nor make up a good enough excuse as to where the drugs went. The siblings tried prolonging their (Aria’s) payment date and buying just a tad bit more time to get everything sorted out. Empty promises were spoken through disposable phones as Aria pledged the money will be ready soon.  

And as if they were suddenly blind and deaf to the fact of being in debt, the sisters decided to open a nightclub. Apparently, the earnings (they hoped would happen fast) would be used to pay back thousands of dollars they owed.

Unfortunately, being too hopeful was never a good thing. And that’s why you were there on the exact day of the grand opening.

“Well then, can I ask you to be my partner in crime, Miss?” Juyeon whispered, nudging your temple with his nose. Although in the mood to play with the other for a little while longer, you had to get to work first. Once again turning in his hold, you nodded and began bopping along to the new beat that vibrated off the walls. With foreheads pressed together, you tried ignoring Juyeon’ sharp gaze and focusing on discussing a plan of action.

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

It was unusually easy to get inside of the security room, turn the cameras off and delete all footage of the current night. With a bit of secretive work, two assassins found a blueprint of the whole floor, familiarizing themselves with all important points of the nightclub – first and foremost the security room. Immediately, both got to work.

Thanks to your moderately revealing outfit and Oscar-worthy acting (no sarcasm intended), you worked as a distraction in the first part of the plan. Accidentally walking into a male bathroom, you managed to gain attention of drunk and drugged men. As expected, they followed out like hungry dogs.  

In the meantime, Juyeon slipped in and out of the bathroom through an open window. The drain pipes, weird infrastructure and façade of the whole building, allowed him to make his way around and towards the security room. The window was barely open, but with a bit of force, it was lifted up higher and Juyeon jumped in without much sound.  

With quick work of skilled fingers, the footage was deleted and all cameras were disabled for the night. Following the same path, the male left, making sure to lower the window into its previous position before returning to the bathroom. Luckily, your charm and flirty words worked well enough to keep other men outside the room until Juyeon came back.

He felt wronged seeing everyone looking you up and down as if you were some type of provocative art piece, hoping to get a feeling with their nasty fingers. Immediately, Juyeon approached the little group and wrapped a protective arm around your shoulder, leading you away. Sounds of disapproval were heard from the rest, but neither paid no mind, already focused on the next piece of the plan.

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

Keeping up the cover often required creative and interesting measures. You’ve been there, done that many times, yet never once have you made out with someone in public because of it.

At one point of the night, while progressing towards the next point, you’ve noticed a couple of guards paying a little bit more attention than usual. The amount of security surrounding one piece of the corridor was enough information to understand that the sisters (or at least one of them) were in one of those rooms. Trying to play drunk and drugged was so far the best shot at being left alone, but it seemingly didn’t work this time, as one bulky man walked towards you. The sound of his voice was almost silenced by the deafening music playing in the background.

“I’m sorry this is a-”  

Suddenly, Juyeon pushed you against a wall. Big hands cupped your face, holding it so delicately, carefully, as if you were a rose made out of glass. Yet, his lips moved against yours with a hungry and lustful feeling, only breaking apart to catch a breath before continuing where interrupted. One of his hands trailed lower, hitching one of your thighs over his hips, earning a rather surprised and breathless gasp in return. Unfortunately, the guard wasn’t willing to cooperate.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to leave this area” He yelled, voice unexpectedly high for a man his built. Juyeon chose to ignore the other, kisses now trailing underneath your jaw and over the tender skin of your neck, nipping but not strong enough to leave any marks.

Growing impatient and with an obvious pressure from his colleagues that bore holes into his back, the guard grabbed and  Juyeon’s bicep, effectively breaking the two apart. It took all of Juyeon’s mind strength not to turn around and break the man’s arm – that much was obvious from the sudden fire in his eyes.

“Leave” The bigger said, pointing back towards the direction you’ve came from. With glassy and hooded eyes, you watched the intimidating man, giving him a wide, forced smile. Pointing between the two guys, you started laughing, occasionally looking away and trying to suppress more giggles from spilling out. Juyeon caught onto the tactic and followed it, his shoulders rising and falling in a fast rhythm.

“I’m sorry~ we’ll goooo” Not wanting to create any unnecessary drama, you grasped Juyeon’s hand, leading the way while fake stumbling and force laughing the whole time. The male tried supporting you, and for a more authentic look, his own steps shortened and uneven.

“Drunk kids... I can’t bel..” Was all you’ve heard from the guard, before his voice blended in and disappeared in great noise that was an EDM beat.

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

Around one in the morning, when the night was reaching its peak, the two targets came out of their room. Despite other distractions, Juyeon and you spectated from a safe distance, dancing against each other for the nth time that night. As per usual, Yuri appeared high and out of her mind, while Aria dragged her towards a small terrace that overlooked the dance floor. There was a guard that followed behind.

“I guess it’s true that they’re giving a speech tonight... how eventful” With a sarcastic tone, Juyeon whispered in your ear. You looked up towards the terrace and hummed along to signal his words have been heard.

“There’s only one guard following, there must be more up there” He continued, head dipping low and lips caressing the exposed skin of your neck. Following the beat of the song, Juyeon moved one of his legs between yours, interested to see the reaction he’d get. His bold touches and moves intensified the unusual tension and sudden heat you already felt. The mission had to be done fast, since you weren’t sure how much more of this new, pleasurable torture you could take. Both were being pretty unprofessional, evidently forgetting about their main focus at times.This wasn’t at all like either of them.

“Taking them out up there is too risky anyway” You began, leaning your head back into the juncture of Juyeon’s shoulder, before speaking again, this time with a more teasing tone “Can’t guarantee that my idea is safe either, though. Are you up for the challenge?”

“Oh woah, don’t get too cocky on me now, baby” Blue replied, smirking when your head shot up to look him in the eyes. It faded fast, an eyebrow raising in a questionable manner, as if his words weren’t special and deserving of such a reaction. “Tell me. I get to hear the offer first before taking it, right?”

“You’re acting way too unprofessional. We’re here with a reason” You whined, suddenly wanting to distance away from the other, but a tight hold on your hips didn’t allow that.

“Me? Unprofessional? Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t the one grinding down on my thigh” Juyeon bit back with a generous amount of confidence, the one that people carried themselves with when they were aware of being right. The colorful lights hid the immediate flush that overtook your features. A quick look to the right proved the man that his words definitely had an effect.  

“So? Are you going to tell me or let a chance slip away?”

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

Aria and Yuri laid dead inside a big closet, their necks snapped and heads hanging in an unnatural way. Juyeon and you once again happened to be the most compatible teammates, getting the job done and leaving the club before anyone suspected a thing.  

The time between leaving and present passed by in a blur and way too fast. Or maybe it didn’t, maybe it was just the power of Juyeon’s soft touches and hungry kisses that made you forget all about it.

Currently pressed against a cold brick wall a few streets away from the nightclub, you enjoyed the attention the man was offering. It all felt unusual and new, but not in a bad way. The wall temperature greatly contrasted the one of the body pressed against you, creating an unusual but pleasant combination. Juyeon’s lips rarely stayed on yours, often wandering down to your jaw and juncture of shoulder. This time though, he didn’t care about the marks, pink bruises now decorating the expanse of your neck. With hands in his dark blue strands, you pulled Juyeon closer, moving in just the right ways to allow more access to the soft and undamaged skin.

It wasn’t clear why both assassins gave in to the sudden want for each other. There were no evident emotions to back up their actions, just a strong need that had to be fulfilled with no one else but the other. Some could suppose it was the consequence of their blunt actions from before, while others may argue that it was something much more meaningful. A relatively new, exciting state of mind and experience that obviously didn’t have to happen, yet it did. A slipup so to say - or at least both hoped that it was.

“How can you be this hot after just murdering someone?” The man asked breathlessly, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips that formed a slight smile. His sharp eyes looked at yours with a new kind of emotion, something you weren’t able to pinpoint just yet. Juyeon’s deep but quick breaths matched yours, both trying to take in as much air as possible in a short period of time.

“What can I say, I’m a natural at keeping people around my finger” You raised a pinky up, playing along, voice low and seductive. Truly, there were missions that required acting flirty and playing dirty, therefore your charm has developed quite a lot. Still, what you tried implicating at was the situation from earlier that night, when all those men gathered around you. There was no reason to expect a reaction from the other. Juyeon’s expression quickly changed into something that resembled a frown, but it disappeared just as fast, not allowing any time to make any remarks about it.

Suddenly, the thigh that was once again positioned between your legs flexed, making you flinch and unwillingly whine. The man smirked, closing in the distance again, but not enough for yet another kiss.

“Should I be scared to become one of those people, then?” He whispered, irises playing between your eyes and lips that were just a breath away. The intimate proximity that went on for way too long happened to have a negative effect on you. Gradually, a pinch of doubt and hesitance began clouding your mind, scolding it for being too carefree next to the other. They reminded of just who the man was, and that the game currently played was a dangerous one. Without much thought, like a reflex, your hand moved quick, retrieving a pocket knife and pointing the tip at Juyeon’s barely covered stomach.

A gasp of sincere shock left the man’s lips, eyes opening wide, as he scanned your face. With an indifferent voice, but a slightly different mind, you spoke.

“I don’t know, should you?”

It was impressive to see how much effect people had on each other. Despite being busy with constant planning and thinking, there was always space in both heads to think about each other. Occasional pondering about his lips on hers, or her hands in his hair – all intensifying the anticipation for the next time.

Juyeon often found himself rushing missions because he knew the female wasn’t busy at the moment. Whenever passing by the familiar building and a certain room had even the slightest bit of light in it, the boy would invite himself over. It appeared that Juyeon risked much more than the other, and definitely much more than he should’ve.

Just out of pure skepticism that underlined every action, you never directly planned any of the meetings, rather letting the other barge in or set time and date. It was easy to catch onto his habits and when to expect a knock at your entrance door. For added security, weapons were kept in secretive places for quick use if the man ever decided to turn on you. And although fighting a never-ending battle inside of your mind, you grew to anticipate the hidden meetings. His kisses were spreading fire throughout your body, words messing with your mind and touches offering pure euphoria.

There were occasions when the two of you would meet at the rooftop, one always back from a mission while the other waited patiently. Sometimes, Juyeon’s hands still dripped fresh blood, the male not willing to waste any time on cleaning them before rushing towards you. It was a special feeling knowing that the fingers that used to do such horrifying things caressed your skin so delicately.

Slowly but surely, some type of understanding was established between the two. Then, the whole relationship wasn’t purely based on physical connection, and it meant much more than a way to satisfy hormonal human needs. Periodic talks about present worries and bothers, as well as thoughts on current events, allowed them to get to know each other better. Alas, the connection never reached its highest level, as numerous obstacles stopped them from reaching it – biggest being the female's constant hesitation.

Objectively speaking, Juyeon let himself open much more than the other did, always easy on bringing up topics to discuss about and contemplate on. He also shared much more information about himself, many of them being trivial and harmless things, but still something you stoically held back on. Of course, that didn’t mean you were silent during two-way conversations, just pickier about what you wanted to share.

Juyeon understood that, and he appreciated everything you’ve told him. That compassion was the foundation that will slowly build a more trusting and open relationship in the future. You valued his way of acting, enjoying harmless discussions and gradually getting used to having a companion who became a part of your almost daily life.

With a little bit of effort from both sides, everything was going to work, or at least you hoped. You encouraged every passing meeting, every second together, to hit the wall of reluctance with as much force as possible – still, unfortunately, it stood strong.

Blue and Red created purple during their nights together, merging with the beautiful melody of the storm that only grew bigger the closer it got.

Thanks to the impeccable weather, it was slightly challenging to get to the roof this time. However, with master level acting, fake politeness and a little bit of luck, you were able to avoid suspicion from the residents you passed by. Most definitely, and fortunately, not a single soul knew that there was a sniper rifle packed in a rather sizeable guitar bag you carried. Along with its components such as silencer, optical sight, bipod, additional ammunition...

Once on top of the building, you immediately unpacked the bag’s contents. First of was an expensive, albeit small door jammer that was installed straight away, effectively sealing the entrance you just walked through. Trying it a couple of times just to make sure, you deemed it impossible to open. Next was the sniper.

Having done such a thing countless times before, it didn’t take you long to properly set and load the weapon with a set of new bullets. The fresh smell of metal filled the small space around. Hiding behind a pile of rubbish, you set the bipod behind the cornice, muzzle and barrel pointing towards the road your target was supposed to appear on soon.  

Then, like a lightning, you immediately withdrew back, sniper pulled way behind and body pressing flush against the ground. There was a sudden feeling of being noticed and even watched, to which you were always quick to react. Keeping low for as long as time allowed, you dismounted the bipod as it only made advancing more difficult. Slowly but surely, you moved around, setting everything up on another corner with tall plants and flowers. The aim wasn’t as clear as before, but it wasn’t too big of a problem. Yet, despite the natural cover doing its job relatively well, the dangerous feeling was still present.

Taking a quick risk, you took off the current optical sight and mounted another, angled one, that allowed you to look around without being too exposed. Since you were on the 11th floor, on the tallest building in the area, there was no way someone could’ve noticed you from the roads down below. Glancing over them quickly just to make sure, the theory was deemed correct – no pedestrians had their heads raised up and looking in this exact direction.

Looking at the sky, you searched for drones or any other objects that could be supervising the area (as that unfortunately, did happen before and they had to be destroyed manually, via a gun). Thankfully, there were none, but instead of making you feel relieved, it only intensified the anxiety previously felt. Where was it coming from?

All you needed to get the desired answer, was an accidental glance over the roof of the building right across from yours. There, behind a pile of wooden planks, metal bars and all other unnecessary trash, you noticed a barely noticeable, but suspicious movement. Locking eyes on the exact spot and rolling the plastic on the sight, you zoomed in, getting a clearer image.  

Shockingly enough, there was a barrel peeking right between the two wooden planks, and it was pointed right at you.  

And then it quietly fired.

The bullet would’ve missed anyway, but thankfully, you moved down just in time, watching it penetrate the wall behind. Your heart leaped, pumping blood faster and kicking against your chest, almost as if it tried jumping out. Strange type of fear enveloped your body. It wasn’t fright for own life, rather unpleasant surprise that fueled thoughts of being outplayed. At this stage, you knew very little. Was it only one person? Were there more people? Were you cornered?

For whatever reason, the person on the other building continued firing, twice to be exact – yet both bullets hit the exact same spot as the first one. It didn’t make sense at all, but at least ir allowed keeping track of the opponent.

In a quick act, you moved, peeking just enough to expect to be fired at, but it never happened. Moving once again and receiving nothing in return, you positioned the sniper and looked through the sight for the nth time, trying to confirm if they were still on the same location. And that’s when you noticed.

A blue haired man peeking out, head cocked to the side, his sharp eyes and smirk offering a teasing, harmless expression.

Rage, disappointment and distrust overtook your body fast, blood boiling on a temperature higher than before. All emotions served as a strong reality check, a shot through the heart and mind, reminding of just who you were. They helped strengthen the invisible wall you were so desperately trying to weaken, ruining almost all of the progress made. Still, their consequences that will definitely leave a mark were your own fault and no one else’s.  

A drastic switch happened. While following Juyeon’s movements through the sight, you unconsciously aligned his head with the red dot in the middle. That person was suddenly someone who made you feel threatened, anxious, alarmed, and not the one who was supposed to help achieve change. You expected so much from him, yet all you currently felt was pure let down and anger. The inner battle was as hectic and loud as ever. A finger creeped up to the trigger, trembling as it came in contact with cold metal.  

Before the pull happened, your phone vibrated almost unnoticeably. It apparently did the right, desired trick, as it effectively broke the dangerous, fury-driven daze. With an audible sigh, you remembered who the actual target of the day was, aim moving downwards in a quick motion. Just as predicted and on time, a big black jeep turned the corner, driving into the street underneath you. Getting into a more comfortable position, you trailed the movement of the black vehicle.

First and only to come out of the car was the exact target. His appearance was immediately followed by two quick, (thanks to the silencers, somewhat) muffled gunshots, the bullets hitting just right. With two holes in his big shiny head, the man was sent falling down, momentarily holding onto the open door before faceplanting the cold concrete. Blood seeped out, painting the previously grey ground in a dark red, almost black color.

But the thing was, you only shot once.

Albeit caught off guard with the shocking realization, there was way too little time to get lost, every second more precious than the last one. Hurriedly, you deconstructed the sniper, pushing everything inside the guitar bag in a careless manner. When done, you moved towards the door and took the jammer off in record time before storing it inside the carriage as well.  

A quick glance was thrown in Juyeon’s direction, but unfortunately there was no sight of said man. For whatever reason, you were somewhat glad.

In a slow and relaxed manner, with calculated steps, you took the stairs again, making sure to appear just as natural and neutral as before. Thankfully, almost no one occupied the hallways. On the 5th floor, there were two elderly women happily boasting about their children, beside who you passed with a polite bow. You even smiled at them, but the expression was deemed unseen thanks to the black mask that covered your face.

Luckily, another semi-smooth mission was done with. You were out of the building and away from the scene in a couple of minutes, with no doubts about being seen or suspected. The only bothersome thing was the sudden change of feelings towards the blue haired man. A dangerous and slightly embarrassing switch could’ve had a very tragic outcome.

And of course, it wasn't worth missing out on the fact that for the first time, both had the same target.

You agreed on further meetings, although they were much different than those in the past. A drastic change in atmosphere was present from the first second, yet neither really wanted to comment on it. Despite being close physically, Juyeon didn’t feel warmth coming from you anymore, or at least not in the same amount as before. The male felt your body shiver under a cold gust of wind, but your skin didn’t feel any colder underneath his fingertips. When he tried offering you a jacket to cover up, you denied with a half-hearted smile.

It was unreasonably late, around three in the morning, which meant the city was at its calmest. There were less people on the streets than fingers on both hands and almost no apartments had their lights on. The moon was the most trustful source of light, its soft hues illuminating everything and making it more beautiful.

Nowadays, fewer words were exchanged as well. Silence was common, both bodies quietly cherishing what was left of a cracked relationship rather than trying to fix (or ruin?) it with meaningless talk. Leaned against the male’s shoulder, you tried forcefully letting go of tension to feel a piece of that carelessness that once existed between you. Truthfully, there was a willpower to continue fighting and experiencing the strange kind of joy, but there were so, so many obstacles. And most of them were created by you.

Neither had the explanation as to why this was still an ongoing thing, why neither gave up despite the little flame burning its last few seconds. No matter how long you searched for the answer, it just didn’t appear. A deep sigh resonated in a small bubble of space.

The biggest and constant bother was that invisible wall, still standing proud. Apparently, it grew taller and stronger every time you remembered the unfortunate event from two weeks ago. As time passed by, you became more skeptical, giving time and attention to thoughts you weren’t fond of. They whispered and laughed at a poor being for daring to experience something it wasn’t supposed to in the first place.

You didn’t even look Juyeon in the eyes anymore, always finding a nearby rock or wall crack a more attractive sight. Why? The fear of looking up and seeing no emotion in the man’s eyes was a fearful thought, mighty enough to forbid you from even trying. And why was it affecting you so much, why were you still holding onto it? You didn’t know.

Hell, your fucked-up mind was daring you to kill the man and he didn’t even know about it.

Juyeon, much like always, put more evident effort into the whole thing. It looked as if the male was aware of the trigger for this sudden stumble (not fall!), and was ready to give it his all to fix everything. Immense guilt was evident on his face, and if you looked up just once, you’d be able to read it off his beautiful features.

Despite your mental distancing and defiance, he never gave up transparently trying. You being there with him every night was all the hope Juyeon needed to continue. Even if you weren’t as willing to see him the next day, Juyeon would knock on your door. Even if you weren’t in the mood to talk, he’d ask a question about one of your favorite topics. The assassin wasn’t religious (and truthfully, how could he be?), but every night he’d pray for this tough period to end already. If for nothing else, then to have your eyes lock with his one last time.

Overall, these last few nights were a weird type of battlefield. Juyeon’s hand moved up to your shoulder, occasionally rubbing down your arm, hoping to feel just a bit of warmth there. You’d allow it, sighing and leaning into his hold, trying to, for the nth time, force a bit of feeling back.  

Either way, the two waited for a beautiful sunrise before disappearing in two different directions.

You should’ve believed the tension that thickened with each word the other said. You should’ve refused and backed out from this exact job when not even one person in the room appeared familiar. But it didn’t happen.

For the first time in an incredibly long time, the employers weren’t a part of a mafia or drug dealing gang. That much was disclosed, with a rude comment that it wasn’t your job to know anything more about them, anyway. It had your blood boiling and eyes squinting suspiciously, irises locking down every of the five men present.

Their detailing about the job that had to be done was just as, if not more, brief. Not believing that someone expected you to work properly with just three sentences of information, you asked a couple of times to have them repeated. Every time, the leader of the group sighed louder, eyes rolling back in an over-exaggerated manner, before turning around and giving a knowing look to the man beside. Were they joking around with you?

When asked about the basis behind this assassination, in hope of getting at least a little bit of early lead on who you’re dealing with, the man offered nothing useful in return. Instead of giving a proper reason, or at least putting effort into making a believable story up, he threw something senseless right at your face. Upon asking how you’re supposed to work without knowing how the target looks like, they replied with:

“They’ll be the only ones there, guaranteed. It's just a little game of hide and seek... with a twist. Isn’t that exciting?”

You were spared the detail that the target was just as (if not more,) experienced than you at these “murder plays”, and they demanded huge amounts of caution. Three main points were specified, the address, time and the fact that this was an extremely dangerous mission. The legitimacy of that information remained unknown, as they once again failed to give a coherent explanation. Despite the last point serving as a warning, you suddenly weren’t given a chance to back out.  

“Excuse me?” You said, disbelief all but dripping from those two simple words. “You’re sending me against another assassin, did I connect the dots correctly?”

“You’re a smart one”

“I don’t want to work on this case” You denied, getting ready to leave, when the other cleared his throat.

“We want this person taken out at any cost, and we particularly chose you for it. In the end, we did hear quite a lot of positive reviews... therefore you seem to be the right person, no?” The man tried flattering you, but his voice was laced with venom, lips moving slowly to form an unnatural, wicked grin. He wasn’t looking at you with fake friendliness anymore, rather an emotion that could soon turn dangerous.

“That doesn’t matter to me, I have the right to not accept the job. My signature is not yet written on the papers” A small pile of documents resting on the table was pointed at, endless rows of black text only missing a simple name written in ballpoint pen. The other chuckled lightly, gaze turning threatening in a blink time as he lifted a blue pen and spun it around his thick fingers.

“That’s easily dealt with” The weight of his words hit immediately, a shocking situation that you’re dealing with for the first time. There was no training for this and lack of experience was making you a nervous mess.  

Shuffling body mass from one leg to the other, your eyes remained on the ground, hands anxiously intertwining. There was nothing that came to mind that would help the current position, and you wondered what all of this was about. No one has ever forced you into working for them, much less threatened to sign the contract in your name.

The man chuckled once again, saying nothing but thinking a lot. This was it, they had you.

“Don’t you want this?” Another male spoke, his frame moving from the doorway and opening a black suitcase on the table. The carriage itself probably cost a fortune, as it was made of expensive leather, and the mouth-watering amount of money inside was as alluring as ever. It would probably be the best paid work ever. Still, you managed to look up from the bills and into the leader’s eyes with strong confidence.

“Does it even matter? You’re forcing me to do it anyway” The words barely made it past your tongue, their weight way too heavy. The freedom you had while working was something greatly cherished (for a lack of better words), and it was suddenly taken away. It almost felt as if nothing was in your power anymore. Fearful shivers ran down your spine.

“Well then, glad we got that behind ourselves. Sign here”

The whole process of sealing the deal was done in a matter of seconds. Your signature was scribbled in the ugliest way possible, and the pen was thrown to the other side of the room as a form of protest. The weak plastic broke due to the force of impact, the ink painting a patch of white wall blue. Turning around to leave, you stomped with heavy steps, glaring at each and every male in the room for the last time. Then, one step away from the doorway, you heard it.

Your name. Your real name.

The one no one ever used.

“Good luck, you’ll need it”

The door closed behind in a loud thud, not allowing you enough time to properly react. Just once your face hit the fresh air, did the heaviness of the decision fall upon your body. What have you done? Who were those people and why did they refuse to introduce themselves?  

Doubts filled your head – were your employers suddenly against you? Were they suddenly hyperaware of your knowledge, or scared that you’ll turn to the other side, become their enemy? Was this actually a ploy made to get you out of the game? The thought made you gulp audibly; wondering if but knowing that it was too late to turn around and tear the contract paper into thousands of pieces.

There’s also no way ditching the mission came into discussion. With the way they acted, god only knew if each and every step of yours was watched on. Holy shit.

The walk home was a long one, not particularly because time passed by slow, but because you purposely chose the longer path. Eyes filling with tears, your reaction was one of pity. Reaching up to brush the watery substance away from the corner of your eyes, you looked at the shiny finger. This was the first time in a long while that something managed to bribe out the emotion of grief. And for the first time ever, it was for no one else but yourself.

Tiny rocks sounded under your shoes just quietly enough to not ruin the perfect sneak up. The sky was grey, thin but overlapping clouds blocking sun from coming your way. Luckily, it meant you could move with more freedom, not having to worry about unnecessary shadows and their power to ruin cover.

The first abandoned building you were heading towards was huge, with main walls almost completely ruined. Chunks of concrete, bricks and other unnecessary trash created stable cover that you’d usually be thankful for, yet now dreaded.  

This was the exact address you were given, but the trick was that it happened to be a whole wide field with two abandoned buildings. On top of that, the opponent’s identity was still unknown, therefore you had no knowledge of who to look for and where. For all you knew, they could already be in position and aiming right at your head. “It’s just a little game of hide and seek, with a twist”. Instinctively, you ducked behind the nearest tree, feeling the heart strengthen its beats. Carefully and in calculated pace, the advance towards the entrance was continued.

There was a huge hole in the ceiling of every floor. It reached all the way up to the destroyed rooftop, almost as if something heavy fell from above and demolished the concrete surface. With back pressed flush against a piece of wall that still stood strong, you took a deep breath and reached down for a favorite of weapons, your trusted knife.

Suddenly, there was a strange type of noise coming from an unknown direction, resonating throughout the whole building. In the midst of a less careful and more panicked moment, while trying to retrieve the blade, it sliced through the delicate flesh of your calf. A quietly yelp of pain escaped your lips, hand immediately stretching to press on the wound. The feeling of blood running down your leg was accompanied by burning pain, and you tried ignoring it while climbing up the stairs.

Thanks to the special soft soles of the boots, your steps weren’t heard over the hard ground. They also didn’t put much force on your calf, therefore the advance to the 1st and 2nd floor went by almost without a problem. Occasionally, due to a bad step, the wound would reopen, another flow of blood quick to rush out along with a thousand silent curses.

The doorways on both floors were as demolished as the rest of the building, preventing anyone from walking through and forcing you to move up to the 3rd. Dodging and crouching down at places where you’d be exposed to the outside, you all but crawled up.

The third floor seemed different; way less disintegrated than the rest. Once there, you looked around and through the now available doorway. The corridor was very long, filled with wooden planks that once resembled doors leading to empty rooms. On the other side, about fifty meters away, there was another stairway, much like the one you took just now.

Alas, despite the burn in your calf, there was suddenly that alarming feeling of being watched.

Immediately ducking behind cover, you gripped the knife tight and took a few deep but quick breaths, planning the next move. Someone was definitely in there, and the rapid heartbeat was making sure you were constantly aware of it.

The feeling gradually subdued the more time passed by. You looked around attentively, once again taking notice of the still gaping hole on the ceiling. There was no one watching you through it though, so the trigger must’ve been from either outside or down the hallway. Remembering the noise from earlier, you completely crossed out the possibility of them being outside.

Which of course, wasn’t in your favor at all.

Peeking out just so the top of the head showed, you tried bribing out shots or any kind of attack from the other – something that would indicate where they were located. Receiving nothing in return was slightly confusing, but it also offered a pinch of hope. Maybe they moved, which meant you had a chance to sneak up behind them, or maybe they’re just hiding, which meant it could all go down very fast.

With a hurt leg that was slowly growing numb, there wasn’t a lot of time you had left before retreat was necessary. And never once did that happen. Therefore, trying to protect pride and get this done just to never see those nasty men again, you tried winging it. Pressing the wound one last time, you whispered a prayer before taking off through the open doorway.

There was just enough cover to move around in semi-safety, back turned towards one of the walls. Your eyes perceptively scanned every corner, every pile of rocks which could offer any type of protection. Occasionally, ignoring the pain, you’d jump inside one of the rooms to your right, hoping to catch the other off guard. The knife in your hands was gripped tight, leather handle shining slightly due to a thin layer of sweat coating it.

Tension was as high as ever, air becoming thick to an almost suffocating degree. For the first time, you felt undoubtedly scared. Your mind was clouded with a thousand racing thoughts, all of which only intensified the sensation of panic. The more time passed, the more your eyes aimlessly wandered around empty spaces, growing more tired and unable to notice possibly important details.

The amount of blood you lost was probably in the red zone, moving around becoming more challenging with every step. Still, doing the best possible job was always a requirement, therefore you used last spurts of strength to enter the 2nd to last room in the long hallway.

Once again met with a different terrain, you immediately noticed a demolished doorway, connecting the room to the one right beside. Upon quickly deeming the current room safe, you crouched down, sneaking towards the linking point. As if sensing danger, you patiently waited a couple of moments, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. If not for the protective leather handle, the blade would’ve sliced through your hand due to the impossibly strong grip.

Someone on the other side coughed. A curse followed right after.  

Both moved rapidly, reaching out for the other through the doorway.

You were held at gunpoint, jaw feeling the pressure of a cold muzzle on it, while a strong hand grabbed your hair, pulling it back. Your own hands grabbed the other’s collar, tugging down while holding the thin, sharp blade against their most sensitive point, Adam’s apple.

Neither moved.

Blue watched Red with surprised eyes, irises playing inside the broad space of dark brown. Your gaze tried locking the man down, scanning those beautiful features while still avoiding his sharp eyes. Unexpectedly, a weak wave of emotion hit, bringing back a piece of what you wanted for a very long time. There was a slight urge to reach out and caringly caress his sharp cheeks, cup his jaw and kiss his lips.

But there was a gun pressed against your skin, and a knife against his.

And neither moved.

The war started. Horrid battles began and ripped your heart piece by piece. Everything was on the line and an indecisive mind was as dangerous as ever. The realization that this man, despite everything that happened, was the last person you wanted to harm, hurt the most. It was the quick moment of reminisce about the old times, when everything was just starting. He was the only one who gauged new, thrilling, pleasant emotions and made them feel like they’re exactly what you needed. And it was the truth.

But the weight of the weapon on your jaw reminded of the not-so-bright moments as well. A flashback of the day you were teasingly shot at sent shivers down your spine, feelings of pure anxiety and fear coming back in an instant. Rightfully so, they were strong and rivaled the positive ones, trying to outweigh them and take control over your next actions. The man was still someone who dared pull the trigger on you, dared taking that type of unpredictable risk.  

If he dared pull it again, you dared slit his flawless, soft skin. But embarrassingly enough, you’d never have enough strength to be the first one, no matter how impulse-driven. Harming him definitely was your last wish. The thought of it even being a possibility made your eyes water, tears welling up and falling like never before, straining your soft cheeks.

Juyeon’s heart ached as well. Sadly, it opposed two separate and strong thunders. The first one hit hard, touching the intimate topic of his feelings towards you. It wasn’t a secret that you’ve changed him as well. In a word of gloom, blood and violence, you made everything disappear and instead of war, brought peace to his mind. Most of the time, it was enough for Juyeon to know that you were there, and every worry would fade away. The mutual understanding was then something he grew accustomed to and happy for. The male didn’t feel like he didn’t deserve attention anymore.

But what hit even harder was the fact that Juyeon was aware of your current thought process, and the guilt once again ate him away, bite by bite.

Carefully, the grip on your hair was released, gloved hand reaching up, thumb wiping a falling tear. Rough material nearly scraped your skin, a frown appearing on the other’s face almost immediately. Juyeon bit down on the glove, taking it off before placing his hand back on your warm cheek. The act made your eyes water even more, lips trembling and throat constricting to stop loud whimpers from escaping.

Still, the weapons didn’t move.

“Juyeon” You suddenly whined, finally finding strength to say his name. Lightheadedness was slowly overtaking your whole body, vision blurring fast. The pain in your leg although still present was long forgotten. Every letter carried huge weight, every taken breath felt like the last and you wondered if taking that bullet hurt any less. Unconsciously, your hand began shaking, resulting in the thin blade moving against the man’s delicate skin. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but Juyeon visibly and audibly gulped under the metal.

“They... they set us up to kill each other, Juyeon” The realization hurt like a sudden kick to the gut. It was supposed to happen sooner or later. All suspicions you weren’t willing to think about came out to be true and the terror spread through your body in a strong wave. Everything made sense – why those men weren’t willing to introduce themselves, why refusal wasn't an option and why no proper explanation was given to you. They were aware that if you knew even one of those things, you wouldn’t have dared to show up in the first place.

Or would you? Would they be able to push just the right buttons and play with your mind as they were right now?

You were set to break apart.

Do it. Don’t do it. Do. Don’t. Past and present were clashing together, habits and new found emotions. For the first time in a while, you felt somewhat disgusted with your job. Yet, the wheels were turning, reminding that you’ve been doing this for years and now was no time to give up under the pressure. It was so, so easy to end this all, much like hundred times before. Swallow down the hard feeling and contractions of your heart, cut through like you’re used to. Emotions were just an accident, an error in the system of a machine.

All this time though, Juyeon’s hand remained on your cheek, and only now was it only noticeable that he wasn’t holding you in place. The muzzle of the gun wasn’t as strong on your jaw as it was before. Juyeon wasn’t going to actively fight or harm you either, that much was clear. This had to end somehow, and the male was about to use his last possible chance.

“Look at me” The voice he said it with was soft, but underlined with a certain type of authority. For whatever reason, as if under a spell, your eyelids opened, irises immediately locking on his.

And then it all crashed down.

All the doubts and hesitation were immediately gone. Your hand moved, putting pressure on the weapon for just a quick moment before letting go completely. Heavy blade fell onto the ground with a loud and high-pitched noise, one that echoed throughout the whole building. The invisible wall was no more.

At the same time, Juyeon released the gun, hefty metal hitting concrete with just as loud of a thud. When the pressure disappeared and the current situation processed properly, your body went numb. Legs giving out, you almost collapsed on the ground. Luckily, Juyeon managed to catch you just in time. The male lowered the smaller body onto the ground, holding it carefully.

Your head hung low; eyes wandering all around the room, but not focusing on one spot. This was the first mission you’ve ever failed and the fear of possible consequences was scary.

Juyeon’s hands enveloped your face, just holding it firmly. Neither had an obvious cheerful expression, but there was a lack of certain something that made both seem more at ease. He caressed the soft skin, examining your face that was blank of any emotion. It was the moment of complete calm.

Upon focusing on the man, you noticed a clear red line just underneath his Adam’s apple. Instinctively, you reached out, running a smooth finger over it and listening to Juyeon’s strained hiss. A new wave of tears welled up in your eyes, yet the other was quick to wipe it away.

“Can you listen to me?” He questioned, with a gaze that suddenly turned more serious, albeit none the less caring. The breathing rhythm was slow and deep, almost as if he was trying to calm down in the fastest way possible. With a slight nod, you replied, hoping to keep enough consciousness to listen until the end.

“Let’s escape this hell” You would’ve definitely reacted greatly to the proposition, if it weren’t for the lack of energy in your body. Instead, the reply was a simple, perplexed look, a result of not quite processing what was talked about.

“Escape, disappear, perish, they’ll never know. They’ll never find us because... because they’ll think we’re dead. Isn’t that what they wanted? To wipe us off the list?” The tone Juyeon used was a hopeful one, as if the man already had everything planned and was ready to go right this second. And maybe, just maybe, that was the case.

“We’ll move countries and get new identities – I have a couple of friends that could and will help us with that. We’ll start a new life away from... away from all of this, because we can’t stay” Gradually, his words became more rushed, too many thoughts and too little time to wrap them up. “We can’t go back. They’ll kill us themselves, you know that, right?”

Juyeon was right. In the planned scenario, one of you was supposed to die today, while the other would’ve been finished off upon reporting the case. You’ve thought about it many times, making up scenarios and trying to find a way to get out of them. No one has ever trained you in that field or shown any ways of dealing with it, and there was an exact, fucked-up reason for it.

“Or we could just...” His eyes wandered off to the two weapons lying on the ground, tears welling up fast. There’s no way that was the only other option, yet...

For a moment, you glanced at the objects as well, not out of interest, but pure disgust. Just a mere thought of what could happen made your stomach twirl and heart hurt. Turning around to look at the other, you noticed a teardrop that made it down his jaw. Wiping it off gently, you smiled, speaking in a low and calm whisper.

“No... no. Let’s... let’s go. Let’s disappear together, wherever that takes us, Juyeon” The mind finally accepted the sudden feelings that were no longer confined and hidden. The imaginary, but nonetheless strong, cage and restrictions were no more. You finally felt proper euphoria of freedom.

Speechless, but immensely happy, that’s what Juyeon was in that exact moment. His chest abruptly wasn’t enough space for the organ that beat at an incredible pace, with new-found strength. Tightening his hold, the male pulled you towards his chest, into a first, proper hug. Your hands sneaked around his body, trying to squeeze as hard as possible and relish the beautiful moment. In such an intimate position, it was possible to feel that exact excited heartbeat of the male.

After a long period of comfortable silence, you quietly spoke into his chest, “Please piggyback me... wherever... I don’t think I can walk”  

“Oh my god, you’re hurt?!” Juyeon noted in an alarming tone, eyes immediately scanning your body and finally noticing a streak of red liquid on the concrete underneath your leg. He loudly cursed at himself for not seeing it earlier, hand reaching down to press on the wound. Although not fresh, it still gushed out more blood, earning another hiss from you.

“Yeah, no shit mister... fuck be careful! I wouldn’t go all baby... and soft on you if I... I didn’t feel like fainting. You were lucky today” You bit back jokingly, trying to keep the light atmosphere that was slowly coming down its high. Juyeon’s head shook at that, a quiet ‘you’re not in position to speak like that’ passing through his barely parted lips. A pair of hands worked fast on tying a thin jacket around your calf to stop further bleeding.  

“How?” He asked, confused but curious at the same time.

“I’d rather not talk about it” Your head turned away from the other, irises locking onto one of many holes on the wall. The male chuckled at that, checking the knot before standing up with knees half bent. He helped you stand up and climb up on his back, strong arms instantly gripping the back of your thighs.

“Bet you hurt yourself, clumsy”

“Yeah, bet”  

With a loud, content sigh, your head lowered onto Juyeon’s back, eyes closing as you finally drifted off to sleep. There, on the closed, but broad battlefield, the two warriors accepted their faith. They made up their minds for a different future, something neither were sure how to approach, but were more than ready to experience together. A future that didn’t revolve around blood, murder and secrecy, one that would allow both to heal and live their lives breathing properly.

Quatervois, a heavy change no one expected. A decision made fast, but a result of long, aimless thought and experience. And some may say this was deemed to happen sooner or later, but was it? If things were just slightly different...  

Guess we would never know.

AN: well... here it is? truthfully speaking, i’m very satisfied with this work, and i love every piece of it, but it has been giving me so much stress oh my god... writing has taken me so much time because i tried so hard to make it perfect and i really hope reading almost 22k of this was worth it, and that you’ve enjoyed it. at some parts, i’ve maybe focused on the main female character too much, but i think that to understand her character, it’s important to have an in-depth point of view. i’d really appreciate it (to the moon and back) if you guys could leave feedback for this one. thank you so so so much for reading, have a good day <3

[saintlaurentproblems]

I’m bored. create a random movie plot. Who would you cast in your movie?

Takes place in Greenwich. It’s about a bunch of wealthy couples that get caught up in a scandal.

Cast:

Meryl Streep & Pierce Bronson (gets murdered. Peace pierce)

Anne Hathaway & Bradley Cooper (son of Meryl Streep)

Viola Davis & Morris Chestnut ( Morris secretly borrowed money from Pierce)

Gemma Chan & Chris Pine (son of Meryl Streep)

Sebastian Stan & Elizabeth Olsen (daughter of Meryl Streep)

Henry Goulding - alcoholic brother of Gemma

Megan Fox - ex wife of Bradley Cooper & Meryl likes her more than Anne.

Chloe Bailey - daughter of Viola & Morris

Ryan Gossling - FBI Agent

Jamie Fox - FBI agent

Pedro Pascal - hired hitman

Idk who has the budget for this

[brn1029]

Get those tin foil hats ready to go!

The 10 greatest conspiracy theories in rock

By Emma Johnston

In a world where fake news runs rampant, rock'n'roll is not immune to the lure of the conspiracy theory. These are 10 of the most ludicrous

Conspiracy theories, myths and legends have existed in rock’n’roll for as long as the music has existed, stretching all the way back to bluesman Robert Johnson selling his soul to the devil at the crossroads in exchange for superhuman guitar skills, fame and fortune.

There are those who believe Elvis Presley and Jim Morrison live on, others who think the Illuminati control the world through symbolism in popular culture, and plenty of evangelical types with their own agendas trawling rock and metal songs for secret messages luring the innocent to the dark side.

Let us take a look, then, at rock’n’roll conspiracy theories ranging from the intriguing to the ludicrous, as we try to separate the truth from the codswallop.

Lemmy was in league with the Illuminati

Few men have ever been earthier than Lemmy, but one conspiracy theorist claims that the Motorhead legend didn’t really die in December 2015, instead “ascending into the heavenly realm” after making a “blood sacrifice pact” with the Illuminati.

A “watcher” of the mythical secret society some believe are running the world – despite evidence that is at best flimsy, at worst straight from The Da Vinci Code author Dan Brown’s discarded notebooks – told the Daily Star: “Lemmy signed up for the ultimate pact – he signed his soul to the devil in order to achieve fame and fortune.”

While we can only imagine what the great man would have to say on the matter, there’s one word, in husky, JD-soaked tones, that we can just about make out coming across from the other side: “Bollocks.”

Paul McCartney died in 1966

As you might expect from the most famous band that has ever existed, there are enough crackpot theories about The Beatles to fill the Albert Hall. From John Lennon’s murder being ordered by the US government, who, led by Richard Nixon, suspected him of communism (the FBI actually did have a file on Lennon, but the story is spiced up by the man behind murderlennontruth.com, who apparently believes author Steven King was involved due to, uh, looking a bit like Mark Chapman) to Canadian prog outfit Klaatu being the Fab Four in disguise, there are plenty of tall tales more colourful than a Ringo B-side.

The most enduring, though, is the notion dreamt up by some US radio DJs that Paul McCartney died in a car crash in 1966 and was replaced by a lookalike. They came to this conclusion having studied the cover of Abbey Road – McCartney’s bare feet on the zebra crossing apparently symbolising death, while others found “evidence” in the album’s opaque lyrics. There were a lot of drugs in the 60s.

Gene Simmons has a cow’s tongue

It’s easy to see why all kinds of far-fetched stories sprung up when Kiss first took off in the 1970s. The fake-blood-spitting, the fire, the demon-superhero personas – middle America clutched its pearls and word spread that these otherworldly weirdos’ moniker stood for Knights In Satan’s Service. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

It was Gene Simmons’ preposterous mouth that got the nation’s less voluminous tongues wagging though. So long and pointy is his appendage, and so often waggled at his audiences (whether they asked for it or not), that eventually the rumour spread around the world’s playgrounds was that he’d had a cow’s tongue grafted onto his own. The bovine baloney is, of course, bullshit, but Simmons has admitted it's one of his favourite Kiss urban myths.

Supertramp predicted 9/11

The Logical Song may be Supertramp’s calling card, but one man in the US stretches common sense to the limit having come to the conclusion that the artwork for their 1979 album Breakfast In America gave prior warning of the terrorist attacks on New York on September 11, 2001.

Look at the album cover – painted from the perspective of a window on a flight into the city – in a mirror, and the ‘u’ and ‘p’ band’s name appears to become a 911 floating above the twin towers, while a logo on the back features a plane flying towards the World Trade Center.

So far, so coincidental, but when our intrepid investigator falls down a rabbit hole of Masonic interference, strained Old Testament connections (“The Great Whore of Babylon – Super Tramp”), and the title Breakfast In America reflecting the fact that the planes crashed early in the morning, things get really tenuous.

It’s fair to say it’s unlikely a British prog-pop band had prior knowledge of the terrorist attacks 22 years before they happened. But maybe Al Qaida were really big fans.

Stevie Wonder can see

Stevie Wonder is a genius. That fact is not up for dispute. The soul/jazz/funk/rock/pop legend was born six weeks prematurely in 1950, and the oxygen used in the hospital incubator to stabilise him caused him to go blind shortly afterwards. But his love of front-row seats at basketball games, the evocative imagery in his songs, and the fact that he once effortlessly caught a falling mic stand knocked over by Paul McCartney (who, let us reiterate, did not die in 1966) has caused basement Jessica Fletchers to muse that he’s faking his blindness as part of the act.

Wonder himself, a known prankster, has great fun with his status as one of the world’s most famous vision-impaired musicians. In 1973, he told Rolling Stone: “I’ve flown a plane before. A Cessna or something, from Chicago to New York. Scared the hell out of everybody.”

Dave Grohl invented Andrew W.K.

When Andrew W.K. first broke through in the early 2000s, dressed in white and covered in blood, his mission was serious in its simplicity: the party is everything. He took his message of having a good time, all the time, to levels of political fervour. But rumours of his authenticity have been doing the rounds from the start.

Reviewing WK’s first UK show at The Garage in London, The Guardian’s Alexis Petridis wrote: “One music-biz conspiracy theory currently circulating suggests that Andrew W.K. is an elaborate hoax devised by former Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl.”

As time went on, the theory gained traction – Grohl was believed to be the mysterious Steev Mike credited on the debut album I Get Wet. And as W.K.’s style changed over subsequent records, and his own admission that there were legal arguments over who owns his name, whispers began that he wasn’t even a real person – he was a character, played by several different actors, an attempt to create the ultimate Frankenstein’s frontman.

"I'm not the same guy that you may have seen from the I Get Wet album," W.K. said in 2008. “I don't just mean that in a philosophical or conceptual way, it's not the same person at all. Do I look the same as that person?" The jury is out, but if this is a great white elephant concocted just for the sheer hell of it, we kind of want this one to be true.

Jimi Hendrix was murdered by his manager

An early victim of the 27 club, the death of Jimi Hendrix was depressingly cliched for a man so wildly creative: a bellyful of barbiturates led to him asphyxiating on his own vomit, according to the post-mortem. But in the years following the grim discovery at the Samarkand Hotel in London on 19 September 1970, a different theory was offered by the guitarist’s former roadie, James “Tappy” Wright.

In his book Rock Roadie, Wright claims Hendrix was murdered by his manager, Michael Jeffery, who he says force-fed his charge red wine and pills. The motive? He feared he was about to be fired and was keen to cash in on the star’s life insurance. One thing we do know for certain is Jeffery won’t be able to give his version of events, as he was killed in a plane crash over France in 1973.

The 50th anniversary of Hendrix's tragic passing was "celebrated" with the release of Hendrix and the Spook, a documentary that "explored" his death further and was described by The Guardian as "a cheaply made mix of interviews and dumbshow dramatic recreations by actors scuttling about flimsy sets in gloomy lighting." Sounds good.

Courtney killed Kurt

Courtney Love is no stranger to demonisation from Nirvana fans. When Hole’s second album, the searing, catchy, feminist, witty, aggressive, vulnerable and unflinchingly honest Live Through This was released, days after Kurt Cobain’s death, rumours almost immediately started up that Love’s late husband wrote the songs. That was insulting and sexist enough, but nowhere near as damaging as the conspiracy theory that Love hired a hitman to kill Cobain amid rumours they were about to divorce.

After Cobain’s first attempt to take his own life in Rome, the Nirvana frontman was eventually convinced to go to rehab following an intervention by his wife and friends. He ran away from the facility, and the private investigator hired by Love to find him, Tom Grant, eventually became the source of the idea that Love and the couple’s live-in nanny Michael Dewitt were responsible for Cobain’s death shortly afterwards.

His claims, made in the Soaked In Bleach documentary, include the notion that Cobain had too much heroin in his system to pull the trigger of the shotgun, and that he believed the suicide note was forged.

People close to Cobain (and the Seattle Police Department) have refuted the theory, including Nirvana manager Danny Goldberg: “It’s ridiculous. He killed himself. I saw him the week beforehand, he was depressed. He tried to kill himself six weeks earlier, he’d talked and written about suicide a lot, he was on drugs, he got a gun. Why do people speculate about it? The tragedy of the loss is so great people look for other explanations. I don’t think there’s any truth at all to it."

The CIA wrote The Scorpions’ biggest hit

Previously synonymous with leather, hard rock anthems and some very questionable album artwork, West Germany’s Scorpions scored big with Wind Of Change, a power ballad heralding the oncoming fall of the USSR, the end of the Cold War, and a new sense of hope in the Eastern Bloc.

In a podcast named after the 1990 song, though, Orwell Prize-winning US journalist Patrick Radden Keefe follows rumours from within the intelligence community that the song was actually written by the CIA, as propaganda to hasten the fall of the ailing Soviet Union via popular culture.

“Soviet officials had long been nervous over the free expression that rock stood for, and how it might affect the Soviet youth,” Keefe is quoted as saying. “The CIA saw rock music as a cultural weapon in the cold war. Wind of Change was released a year after the fall of the Berlin Wall, and became this anthem for the end of communism and reunification of Germany. It had this soft-power message that the intelligence service wanted to promote.”

It's a convincing theory, but one that is disputed by Scorpions frontman Klaus Meine: “I thought it was very amusing and I just cracked up laughing. It’s a very entertaining and really crazy story but like I said, it’s not true at all. Like you American guys would say, it’s fake news."

There are satanic messages in Stairway To Heaven

The great comedian Bill Hicks had something to say about people searching for evidence of devilry in rock’n’roll: “Remember this shit, if you play certain rock albums backwards there'd be satanic messages? Let me tell you something, if you're sitting round your house playing your albums backwards, you are Satan. You needn't look any further. And don't go ruining my stereo to prove a point either.”

The memo didn’t get through to televangelist and stylus ruiner Paul Crouch, who in 1982 attempted to scare the Christian right into believing Led Zeppelin’s Stairway To Heaven was stuffed with demonic meaning, and that played backwards it revealed the following message: “Here’s to my sweet Satan/The one whose little path would make me sad, whose power is Satan/He will give those with him 666/There was a little toolshed where he made us suffer, sad Satan.”

Guitarist Jimmy Page, of course, is no stranger to the esoteric, making no secret of his interest in occultist Aleister Crowley and the attendant magick, and there were even rumours the band made a Faustian pact to achieve fame and fortune. But hiding messa

[lailannajacobs]

Empire of Angels | Part One

Pairing: Bucky x ofc!Amelie Novak

Summary: Amelie Novak moved from New York to Boston to escape a shitty ex and to get a killer story. She just didn’t realize she’d meant that literally. 

Warnings: none! 

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Technically this part has already been published under a different name, but it’s been seriously editied and changed with parts added so it’s quite different? Anyways, I’d love to know what you think! <3

Empire of Angels | Part One

“I need someone to go after ex-sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. You ever heard of him, Novak?”

Amelie nodded, but her boss Cary, kept going as if she hadn’t. Typical. It wasn’t like he took her any more seriously than an intern.

“He’s ex-military. Defected five years ago and has been working as a hitman ever since. I’m sure you must have heard of him. If the cops are right, then he’s to blame for over a dozen high profile kills since. I got a source telling me he’s in Boston, ‘bout to hit his next target. I want you to find him and get me killer story before anyone else even thinks about it. And before you say a thing, I know you’re a reporter, not a cop. But this could be huge for the Globe and I need someone on this.”

Like hell she would say anything. Cary was finally giving her a real story. When Amelie had moved - more precisely, run away - to Boston looking for a change, she hadn’t expected to get sidelined. She was a damned good reporter and everyone at the Times knew she was good at her job. So like hell she’d say a thing and ruin her chance at proving to her new employer that she was the best he had.

“Do you know who the intended target is?” She kept her voice clipped, professional like his favourite boys did.

Cary shook his head, “My source wouldn’t say. But I need to know you’re okay with this, Novak. He’s dangerous and cunning, practically a ghost. I don’t want you walking into this expecting peaches and roses like the rest of the stories you cover.”

Amelie almost mentioned that the reason all her other stories had been peaches and roses was because he wouldn’t let her cover anything hard hitting, but nodded instead, afraid to look anything other than absolutely capable.

“It’s no problem. This will be my number one priority. I won’t let you down,” She promised with conviction.

With a curt nod, he waved her out of the office, apparently satisfied. Amelie could barely contain her excitement, and purposefully slowed her walk toward the conference room door. Her curiosity got the best of her before she could walk out.

Glancing over her shoulder as nonchalantly as possible, she asked, “Why me?”

He kept his gaze on the papers he was now leafing through, “They told me when I hired you, that your biggest asset as a reporter is that you’re constantly being underestimated. I figured the best way to get to him was to send someone like you,” He paused and looked up at her, “Am I wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Didn’t think so. Now get to it, Novak. Somehow I doubt he’ll be here for long.”

Amelie left the conference room, unable to wipe the smile from her lips, ignoring the curious looks from her coworkers.

Staring at the computer screen, Amelie finally understood why Cary had sent her after such an important and dangerous story. The dozens of articles she had found on Barnes made it clear that this story Cary wanted her to cover wasn’t something he expected her to succeed at. He didn’t expect anyone to find Barnes at all and hadn’t been about to waste one of his better employees on a fruitless task. She didn’t care. Cary had finally given her a story worth covering and she was sure as hell going to get it done, even if her first thought had been that the police, FBI or even a PI would have been better suited for the job. There was no way she’d turn the job down now. Not when there was no way she could lose. If she got the story, she’d be bringing in one of the biggest stories the Globe had seen in years. If she failed, well, no one expected her to succeed anyways.

Her research on Barnes - otherwise known as the Winter Soldier - had led her to two conclusions. He was extremely dangerous, and he was extremely talented at what he did. And what he did, was take out criminals before anyone even knew that’s what they were. The hit would lead to an investigation, which would then lead to the exposure of skeletons no one knew were hiding in the deceased’s closet. His MO didn’t make any of his vigilante kills any less of a crime, it only meant that getting the story before anyone else would be huge for her and probably save a life in the process. All Amelie had to do was find the scumbag Barnes was targeting before her little hitman found him first.

Get a story, save a life, put an asshat in jail, get promoted. All in that order. That simple.

The problem - the biggest one at the moment - was that no one was able to figure out who Barnes’ next target would be before the body dropped. The deaths appeared random, but she knew it couldn’t be. Anyone who worked as meticulously as the Winter Soldier did had to have a process. Figuring it out would be the key to her success.

Amelie had reached out to other reporters across the country, including an old friend from the Times who had covered the deaths accredited to Barnes, but all anyone could say was that he was ghost.

So, the other major problem was finding him.

But that’s where she came in.

Finding people was something she had always been good at. Although she had never figured out how exactly, Amelie had an uncanny ability to be at the right place at the right time. Trusting that gut feeling had never steered her wrong in the past, and she wasn’t about to doubt it now. Any reporter could follow up on a lead and dig up dirt. But not every reporter had her instincts. Amelie had to believe that it was what was going to put her ahead of the dozen or so journalists who had gone up against the Winter Soldier in the past.

Her printer spat out a photo of the sergeant’s military ID, the most recent photograph she could find of him. She didn’t doubt he looked nothing like the picture. The cropped dark hair and clean-shaven face were probably long gone, and she had to assume that, like the security cameras unable to get a clear image of him, she wouldn’t recognize the man from the picture. The only saving grace was that she had never seen ocean coloured eyes so striking, even on a low quality, home printed scrap piece of paper. She figured she’d recognize them if - when - she met his gaze.

The military uniform and crooked grin seemed at odds with the infamous hitman she was hunting, but Amelie knew that dangerous men came in all shapes and sizes. The facts were that this man had killed almost a dozen high profile businessmen and politicians in the past five years and that each hit was in a largely public area, creating mass chaos, which was, if she had to guess, his escape route.

Scoping out Boston’s most popular public areas was where she would start. Tomorrow. She wouldn’t be able to find him running on half a muffin she’d had for supper and little to no sleep. Resting and getting her things in order was her priority. Tomorrow it would be the Winter Soldier.

* * * * *

Amelie wandered through Quincy Market among families decked out in Celtic’s green, ready for the night’s big game against the Raptors. The town square was alive with laughter and shouting, one of the last warm, autumn days brightening everyone’s mood. She let herself get stopped by tourists asking for directions, wandered into a coffee shop and popped into gift shops, looking to send her New York friends and family a little sign that she was adapting to just fine. No one had really understood her move from the New York Times to the Boston Globe, but then again, none of them had dated Brian for as long as she had. The only exception had wished her well and sent her off with an understanding smile. One of these trinkets was for them.

Every ball cap in sight caught her attention, though none hid incredible blue eyes under the lid. It was a gamble on her part to assume that he’d be wearing one, but the best way to get through a crowd, antsy for tonight’s game, was to blend in. And judging by the amount of ball caps in her five-foot radius alone, the odds were in her favour that she’d find him under one. Her instincts had gotten her this far. She wasn’t about to start doubting them during what was probably the most important story of her career.

Before she could decide where to wander to next, she was thrown to the ground, pain searing through her wrists. Where the hell that basketball had come from was beyond her, and she pushed herself back up, wincing as the assailant rolled away.

“I’m so sorry miss, are you all right?”

Amelie took in a deep breath and forced a cheery laugh, “I’m fine. Happens to the best of us. Let’s just hope none of that happens to our team tonight, right?”

The washed-out looking man in a stretched thin jersey picked up the ball and handed it back to his son. The man smiled, most likely pleased by her kind smile, cheery attitude and the fact that she wasn’t chewing his son out for his pathetic aim. They always were. Nice was usually seen as a weakness. Nice was never looked at twice. But underestimated and forgotten were some of the reason Amelie was able to do her job so well.

He finished with another apology and a slightly creepy wink before whisking his son away. She wanted to roll her eyes but kept her well practice act in place, keeping her gaze trained on them as they wandered through the crowd. That was when she spotted someone far more important behind them. The cap, which was what had immediately caught her attention, was a dumb choice on his part. The navy colour only brought out his eyes, which had made him that much easier to spot.

Amelie grinned.

It was time to pay her little hitman a visit.

She wove through the crowd with purpose, keeping an eye on her target. Stalking him wouldn’t do any good. She could do that later if need be. Right now, he was probably hyper aware of people trying to tail him, and less wary of people actually trying to talk to him. The latter was exactly what she planned on doing.

Amelie knew she shouldn’t have been feeling anything other than fear, but this was what she had come to Boston for. A fresh start and a killer story. All she could feel was the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her senses coming alive. It didn’t matter that she was tailing an accomplished hitman. She was damn good at her job. She could do this.

When she got close enough, she tapped on his shoulder, “Hi! I’m a reporter from the Globe’s sports section and we’re conducting a survey to see who’s watching the game tonight and where. Mind if I ask you a couple questions?”

He turned around, brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed as if surprised to have been spotted in the first place.

“No,” He answered gruffly, striding off.

Amelie hurried after him, “Technically no means you don’t mind!”

He kept walking.

“Please,” She begged, “I’m never going to be taken seriously if I can’t even get this silly task done. I, like, really, really, really want to be promoted to fashion. I’m sooo done with sports. Please, can you just answer this one tiny little question for me?”

He sighed, but thankfully stopped, “If you want to be taken seriously then lose the ditsy attitude.”

Rude.

“I’m asking you a question, not asking you to act like an as-” She cut herself off, cursing the slip in her act. She was better than that.

“That’s better,” He smirked, “You get one question.”

Amelie couldn’t roll her eyes at him, no matter how much she wanted to. The last thing she needed was an attitude that drew attention to herself or flagged her as threatening or even suspicious. He had asked her to drop the ditsy attitude, but that was the last thing she intended on doing. A cheery woman, somehow stuck doing an article for the sports section was exactly who she would be because that was the woman her hitman wouldn’t have a second thought about after they parted ways.

“If you’re watching the game tonight, are you watching at the Garden, at a bar, or at home?”

His face was the perfect image of boredom. Amelie couldn’t help but wonder if he practiced it in the mirror every morning.

“I see why you don’t want to keep asking these questions.”

“I’m glad you agree,” She answered dryly, unable to help herself.

He kept his blue eyes solely on her, which meant he wasn’t looking out for someone else. He obviously didn’t want to be here answering questions - the way he kept all his weight on his toes made Amelie think he was going to take off at any second - but he didn’t appear to be in a rush to get somewhere else either. Whoever his target was, he or she wasn’t here. Either that meant that her hitman had been fed false information or he was scouting a location rather than looking for a person in particular. Amelie had to bet on the former. It wasn’t much of a clue, but it was something.

“Let me guess,” She returned to the perky act, hoping she could get a solid answer out of him this time, “You seem like the kind of guy who would go to a bar to watch the game.”

He narrowed his eyes and her stomached knotted. This wasn’t how she wanted him to be looking at her. Amelie leaned even further into the act, widening her smile. She couldn’t slip up when she was so close to an answer.

He sighed. If he had been suspicious, he had quickly dismissed her as a threat, “Is that your way of trying to prove your journalistic instincts?”

“Is that your way of evading the question?” She countered.

“Maybe,” He smirked, a dangerous quirk of his mouth that sent her pulse racing, “How about you?”

“Maybe.”

Amelie held that piercing blue gaze, refusing to be the one to back down first. Arching a brow in a silent challenge, she waited with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Yes,” He conceded, “I’ll be watching in a bar tonight.”

She let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you! See, was that so hard?”

He snorted and walked off without another word.

“Have a nice day!” He called after him with fake chipper, muttering asshole beneath her breath.

Barnes didn’t turn around - not that she expected him to - and she watched him go until he was out of sigh. Hopefully, she was already out of his mind.

The game didn’t start for another couple hours, which gave her time to figure out which bars were playing the game tonight. Amelie had been disappointed when he hadn’t said he’d be watching the game at the Garden. A stadium was a hell of a lot easier to canvas than all the bars in Boston. She couldn’t even be certain that he was telling the truth - odds were that he wasn’t. Fortunately, Amelie’s gut feeling told her the opposite. Rude hitman didn’t necessarily mean liar.

Another sigh escaped her lips, the adrenaline wearing off. It had been risky giving herself away, but she banked on the fact that not many people, especially someone to small compared to him, would knowingly approach a wanted hitman. She had incorporated as much truth into her lie to make it as credible as possible and just had to hope that he wouldn’t check up on her.

The thought should have scared her, but it didn’t. Barnes was nothing like the articles described him as, and quite frankly, the only adjectives she would have used to described him were grumpy and rude. The man she’d just met was nothing like the terror described in the other articles. She didn’t know if her reaction made her stupid or brave. Maybe it was neither considering that no-one else had actually gotten close to him.

Not wanting to tail him all afternoon and most likely alert him to her presence, she decided to go home and get some more research done. It wasn’t going to be easy trying to find him tonight, but Amelie had always considered herself as someone who was lucky. She could get Barnes, but she was also going to need a little luck on her side tonight. 

* * * * *

Amelie had tried five different bars before finally finding him in a pub known for its connection with the Irish Mob. Her feet were sore, someone had spilt a drink on her lap at bar number two when the Celtics had scored, and it had taken an extra fifty just to convince the bouncer to let her in, but it was worth it.

She’d found him.

Finally.

The whole process of trying to find him had taken up so much of her energy that she’d forgotten to actually plan what she wanted to do when he found him. Not wanting to do something stupid, she did nothing. She’d somehow found a seat at the bar, despite the packed Friday night crowd, close enough so that she could see him but far enough away not to attract any unwanted attention. The pub was just as noisy as every other place she’d been at, drunken cheers and insults being shouted at the televisions sporadically. Amelie ordered another beer, still not sure what to do. Without a gut feeling to tell her what to do, she sipped away, keeping tabs on him from time to time. That was, until he wasn’t there anymore.

Cursing herself for being so sloppy, she downed the beer and pushed off the seat, only to run into a broad chest in a red henley and a dark leather jacket. She didn’t have to tilt her head back to know she was face to face - face to chest? - with the exact mad she was looking for. His narrowed eyes probably meant that their running into each other wasn’t accidental or a good thing.

She smiled.

He dipped his head, breath hot on her ear when he growled, “Sit down.”

Her eyes widened in the nonexistent fear she should have felt and followed his order while he slid into the free seat on her right. Barnes ordered a drink, not saying anything as they waited for the barman to come back with his beer. He probably hoped to ramp up her supposed fear by letting her stew, but it only succeeded in giving her time to think of a way out without killing her chance at getting this story. She had to give him credit though. She figured most people would have been afraid. But he had no idea that she wasn’t most people.  

“Who are you?” He demanded after the bartender had moved on.

“Oh! Right! You didn’t get my name earlier. I promise I’m not stalking you or anything, it’s purely personal,” Amelie could tell the sweetness in her voice had thrown him off guard, so she continued, laying it on even thicker, “It’s not every day I get to interview someone so… handsome, you know. I just thought that if I can into you tonight then-”

“Who are you?” He repeated, cutting her off with a cold look.

Obviously, manners weren’t his thing.

She forced a giggle even if it was getting harder to keep up the charade. What she wanted to do was shake him and tell him that manners were for everyone, including international hitmen, but she looked away for a second as if embarrassed.

She extended her hand, “Amelie Novak.”

He looked at it as though it might bite him, but he summoned all of his dangerous, brooding bravery and took it, “I wasn’t expecting such a firm grip.”

She shot him a pointed look, filling in the unspoken words, “From someone so ditzy?”

Amelie couldn’t help it. His condescending attitude made it impossible not to want to answer in the same tone. She needed to get her act together. Now. In the last five years, she had never broken character on the job, and now, she had twice in the same day. She reminded herself what was on the line if she slipped up and shot him another smile.

He let out something that might have been a laugh, if hitmen did indeed laugh. Judging by the looks of him, it wasn’t something he did all that often. At least no in from of other people. Or ever.

He stood, “I’m flattered by your…interest, but I have to go. If you’re lucky, some overgrown frat boy will come in a take my place. Seems more your type anyway, sweetheart.”

Amelie smiled through gritted teeth, holding it in place until he was no longer looking at her.

“I tried that,” She muttered when he was too far to hear, thinking of Brian, “Didn’t work out.”

Ordering another drink, she followed him out with her eyes, waiting to see what he would do next. After having seen her twice in the same day, she couldn’t tail him. There was nothing left for her to do. Or at least, that’s what she thought before realizing that he was following someone else out of the bar; someone Amelie very much recognized. And if that man was her hitman’s target, then all she had to do was find that man’s dirty little secrets. Fast.

She pulled out her phone. There was only one person she could count on to get the kind of information she needed and who could get it to her before the night was over.

* * * * *

“What do you got for me?” Amelie perched on the corner of Detective Sam Wilson’s desk and flicked the Paul Pierce bobble head.

He barely spared her a glance, focused on the document on his computer screen, “Nice to see you too, Novak.”

She sighed, “Come on, Wilson, you know I’m not one for pleasantries.”

“You were when we first met,” He pointed out, typing away.

“That was when I thought I could get something from you that way,” She grinned, “Turns out you were a lot less gullible than I thought.”

He pushed back from his desk, chair rolling far enough that he could extend his legs, “I should’ve encouraged manners. A simple how are you would have been nice.”

“Fine, fine,” She rolled her eyes, “How are you, Wilson? How was your day?”

“I’m fine, Novak,” He smirked, “How are you?”

“Hoping to be better once I hear what you’ve got.”

He crossed his arms, “What made you start looking into this guy anyways?”

There was no need to tell him that she’d just gone toe to toe with an international hitman, so she simply said, “I got a hunch.”

He raised a brow, “A hunch, huh?”

“Yeah,” She nodded, knowing he was too good a cop for her to risk lying even more to him, “A hunch.”

“You should have been a detective, Novak,” He chuckled, “I think you missed your calling.”

She laughed, “I never could have passed those physical tests. But I’m assuming that you found something if you’re telling me this?”

He nodded, eyes bright.

She leaned forward, “What is it?”

“Oh, you know, police business.”

She nodded, “Of course, police business.”

“I’m going to the bathroom. My computer’s been having trouble lately and won’t seem to shut off,” He winked, standing, “You’ll be gone when I’m back.”

“Yup.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Novak.”

“No problem, Wilson, I understand,” She grinned and whispered, “Thank you. I owe you. Next time I’ll come bearing coffee.”

He pulled back, “It better be one of those fancy coffees.”

“Obviously,” She hopped off his desk, watching him leave.

“With cinnamon,” He called over his shoulder.

Amelie bounced onto Sam’s chair and stared at the document he’d left open. Her excitement built as the words for her article began to string themselves together in her mind.

* * * * *

The article had gone viral. Hers. Amelie Novak’s. Cary, after having cursed her out for banging on his home door at midnight, actually smiled after reading it. It had managed to get enough press that even her friends in New York had heard about it. Thinking about it still made her giddy, even days later. God, she loved her job.

The man, a corrupt CEO working with the Irish Mob, had been placed in protective custody, despite his white-collar crimes. Putting him in jail was too dangerous, a prison too flimsy for a good hitman.

Amelie probably should have felt better about having saved a life, but it was hard to feel proud when the made she’d save was a grade A scumbag. Among other crimes, he’d stolen from hundreds of families in the area and hurt so many other people through his connections with the Mob and those were only the crimes Wilson had been able to dig up overnight. Since then, other crimes had surfaced and all her articles since then had been recaps of the cops’ investigation.

Fumbling with her keys, her grip slipped on her grocery bags and she scrambled to get into her apartment without dropping anything. The place was dark, the late evening light gone long before she had left the office and the city lights barely poking thought the cracks between the adjacent buildings.

The light switch was too high to reach with the weight of the five-pound sack of potatoes in one hand and the jug of milk in the other, so she wandered blindly into the kitchen of her new studio apartment.

“I’d have to say, I’m impressed.”

Amelie shrieked, almost dropping the bags again. Her heart pounding her chest as if it was begging her to leave, but she didn’t move or turn on the lights. She didn’t need to. Amelie recognized the voice.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, professional hitman, the Winter Soldier himself, was in her kitchen, and he was most definitely trespassing.

[connorssock]

Hitman’s Bodyguard AU

You can track my viewing habits by looking at the AUs I spout out...

Allen is the disgraced SWAT Captain. Some mission had gone wrong, shit always slides down the totem pole and he got covered.

Dismissed from his role, he started up a private security firm, it was all going well (Triple A Rating) until he lost a client.

Suddenly he’s back at the bottom, trying to make ends meet. He works jobs he wouldn’t have touched before, but money is money and he enjoys work.

Sixty is the unrepentant hitman. He got caught because someone told him Connor and Nines had been in a car crash.

They weren’t in a crash. They are DPD and FBI respectively and needed Sixty off the streets - the rogue brother holding back their careers.

Of course, Sixty is key witness in a high profile case (Kamski’s) and needs to be transported across the continent.

The mole (let’s change things up, it’s Fowler), leaks details and the transport is ambushed.

Nines gets Sixty out to a safe house, knows he and Connor are too compromised and that there’s a mole. They need someone independent. He calls in Allen.

It is not love at first sight. It’s murder attempt at first meeting.

Sixty and Allen had been at odds with each other before. Allen escorting and protecting people Sixty had been hired to kill. There’s no love lost between them.

They go on a cross country jaunt. Sixty hasn’t yet found cuffs that hold him and Allen can’t figure out where he stashes all the guns. After a certain point he’s too afraid to ask.

Being polar opposites, it’s fraught with clashes.Sixty is happy go lucky, laughing in the face of everything.

By contrast, Allen is meticulous, methodical, has a plan for everything.

Sixty asks if Allen would take a bullet for him and Allen shrugs, it’s what he’s being paid for. Be a human shield if the worst comes to it. If only Sixty would stop sticking his unpredictability in everything.

Well, no, that’s a lie. Sixty is predictable in the sense that whatever he does, chaos and death is bound to follow.

Allen’s general existence makes Sixty curious. Usually people would not be so prepared to take a bullet for a stranger. Especially not for a contract killer with over 250 kills to their name.

He does a bit of digging. Finds out about the mission that had gone south. Allen didn’t just lose his job over it. His partner got killed. It was why he ended up the scapegoat. Fraternisation policy in SWAT was strict.

So Allen had no job, grief and mounting bills to deal with. And Sixty had been the one indirectly responsible for it. While he didn’t fire the bullet to kill Allen’s partner, he had set the motions into play that ended in death.

It’s part of the reason Allen avoids killing people. He never knows what the person he’s killing might be to someone else. Losing a loved one is not something he wishes on anyone.

So Sixty tries his best to behave. In his own way. It doesn’t exactly help when they have a mob after them, intent on killing them both.

Allen trails after Sixty who laughs off all his attempts to protect him.

Of course he already knew about the guy on the park bench who got up to follow him. It was needless to worry about the delivery guy too, Sixty had spotted him a mile away. And the woman doing a park jog was someone he could have easily dealt with.

Needless to say, Allen doesn’t feel very appreciated. So when Sixty is forced into a weird speedboat chase along a canal, his enemies on the banks, firing at him, he comes so close ignoring it, sitting on the banks of the canal and throwing bread to the ducks.

However, he sees Sixty and his mind supplies images of him dead all too easily. Another person he should have protected but couldn’t.

Grumpy, he steals a motorbike and sets about cleaning up the place for Sixty’s grand escape.

Unfortunately, while Sixty escapes, the last car of thugs rams into Allen’s bike, sends him flying and he wakes up in some weird sex dungeon, surrounded by thugs and mannequins.

He gets tortured for information Allen doesn’t actually have. It’s agonising, he’s not ashamed to say he screamed and tears leaked down his cheeks.

It must be a pain induced hallucination when one of the mannequins moves. Holds a finger to his lips. And proceeds to butcher all the thugs in the most elegant display of vicious violence ever. It’s like a fever induced macabre dance with too many arcs of blood.

The mannequin turns out to be Sixty. Dressed in some fetish gear and looking all too proud of himself for blending in. He even does a little twirl for Allen, showing off.

It takes a little convincing to get Sixty back into a suit but he keeps the leather harness on under his clothes, calling it a memento.

They stagger into to the hearing with barely a few seconds to spare.

There’s palpable relief from most people, especially Nines and Connor who keep Allen company at the back of the room while Sixty gives his testimony, with as much of a dramatic flare as always.

Of course, things go tits up at the last minute. The truck bomb explodes, wreaks havoc. Kamski levels a gun at Sixty with a sneer. Just as he pulls the trigger, Allen body slams Sixty out of the way.

They land in a pile of limbs on the floor and Sixty laughs. Until he realises that the blood on his shirt isn’t his.

Allen sends Sixty after Kamski while Connor and Nines corner Fowler.

It’s a happily ever after story though. For all his help, Sixty is given an official pardon.

He ends up working with Allen, their business grows. Though they don’t chase the Triple A Rating, they still end up there.

They don’t do flashy. If anything, it’s mundane, they blend in far too much. Two boring lovebirds who trade kisses and bullets with practised ease.

Still, they’re successful at what they do. Nines and Connor can rest easy, knowing Allen keeps Sixty on track. The trust there had been broken but they’re trying to work on fixing that too.

The first few times they go out for drinks ends in arguments when cases and missions going wrong turn out to be Sixty’s fault.

It’s one of those evenings that the truth behind Allen’s downfall comes out.

Sixty looks nervous, licking his lips as he looks to Allen, waiting for a reaction, anger, disappointment, hurt.

“I knew already,” Allen shrugs.

That floors Sixty he wants to ask but doesn’t know what can and what he should ask.

“You fucked up a SWAT mission, eventually the cause, you, was identified. I heard on the grapevine before we even met. Wait. Why did you think I tried to kill you the first time we met?”

“It’s how most people greet me,” Sixty replies. He gets laughed at and he decides he likes Allen’s laugh. When he says as much, he is given a soft kiss and a promise that they were okay, nothing changes in the light of it all. But Allen is grateful for his brave honesty.

[thedcdunce]

KGBeast

“I am to be remembering you. You are being called Robin and I am to be killing you.” - KGBeast

Real Name: Anatoli Knyazev

Aliases:

The Beast

Gender: Male

Height: 6′ 3″

Weight: 280 lbs (127 kg)

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Blonde

Powers:

Cybernetic Force

Cybernetic Velocity

Cybernetic energy production

Superhuman agility

Abilites:

Demolitions

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced)

Marksmanship

Weaponry

Weaknesses:

Missing Limb

Equipment:

Prosthetic Gun

Adaptive Reader

Universe: New Earth

Citizenship: Russian

Parents:

Johnny Chambers; father

Libby Lawrence; mother

Marital Status: Single

Occupation: Mercenary

First Appearance: Batman #417 (March, 1988)

Appearance of Death: Detective Comics #817 (May, 2006)

Powers

Cybernetic Force: Supplemented physique due to cybernetic enhancements which gave him the strength of 4 men and the ability to literally tear a man in two with his bare hands.

Cybernetic Velocity: Physical supplement due to the cybernetic improvements that gave him the speed of 4 men, being able to reach 112 km / h.

Cybernetic energy production: Cybernetic physical supplement that allows you to generate energy and manipulate it and remodel it as you want, being almost impossible to escape its attack.

Superhuman agility: Flexible parts of your body are replaced by volatile cybernetic parts allowing you to have a superhuman agility and can deflect lead bullets.

Abilities

Demolitions

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced)

Marksmanship

Weaponry: The KGBeast's training has allowed him to master many styles of armed combat.

Weaknesses

Missing Limb

Equipment

Prosthetic Gun: The KGBeast has had his arm replaced with a prosthetic gun. He has impeccable aim with it, it is an automatic, and also features at least a bayonet, tear gas dispenser and scope.

Adaptive Reader: The technology reader offers 2.8 billion combat and vulnerability scripts warning you of any weakness of the opponent, enabling him to predict or react to any skill or power.

Origin

Anatoli Knyazev, alias KGBeast was an elite top secret member of the KGB cell called "The Hammer." Knyazev was trained as an assassin and became a master in many forms of martial arts as well as weaponry. His cybernetic enhancements also allowed him to become a proficient killing machine. He had a body count of over 100 men and was rumored to have planned the assassination of Anwar Sadat. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, without a cause, he became a freelancer and supervillain.

Ten Nights of the Beast

When the Russian government shut down his KGB cell, because it had become too powerful and was a threat to the Soviet regime, the KGBeast was given one last mission by his commanding officer before the man killed himself. The KGBeast was to eliminate nine people necessary to America's "Strategic Defense Initiative", who would be in Gotham at some point over the course of a two week period. Despite Batman's best efforts, combined with the GCPD, the FBI and the CIA, KGBeast was able to kill all but two of his targets, a senator, and President Ronald Reagan. His total body count in Gotham, in the 10-day period alone, was over 100 people. Despite this, as a member of the Soviet embassy, he could not be legally punished for his crimes in America, but if caught would have to be turned back over to the Russians. During his crimes in Gotham, he came in conflict with Batman and in order to avoid capture, KGBeast cut off his own hand and escaped from the vigilante once again.

Eventually he was cornered by Batman in a sewer compartment. He challenged Batman to fight with him, so they could see which of them was truly better, but Batman declined, instead opting to leave and lock the door behind him, so the Beast would not be able to get out. Some time later, Batman called the police to have him taken in, but by then, KGBeast had already escaped.

After the Fall of the Soviet Union

In the aftermath of the fall of the USSR, the Hammer transformed into a crime syndicate involved in heroin, gambling, extortion, and murder for hire. The KGBeast was back in service to the Hammer as an assassin. He was smuggled into the United States to help the Hammer in its operations in Gotham. Where he clashed repeatedly with both Robin, the Huntress. Finally, he battled both of them and King Snake, while the Ghost Dragons assaulted the counterfeit money printing press operation of the Hammer putting an end to their activities in Gotham.

Later KGBeast fought Batman on two more occasions when Batman helped Arsenal find a kidnapped Cheshire and during an escape from Blackgate Penitentiary. Batman defeated the Beast both times.

Face the Face

KGBeast was eventually reduced to working for the Penguin as a hitman. He was shot in the head by the new Tally Man under the orders of the Great White Shark, as part of a larger scheme to cripple the Penguin's empire.

Blackest Night

KGBeast was one of the many villains raised from the dead in Gotham City to join the new Black Lantern Corps during Blackest Night. He received a ring along with Abbatoir, Deacon Blackfire, Blockbuster, King Snake, Magpie, the Trigger Twins, and the Ventriloquist. He terrorized the city and tore out the hearts of innocents to feed on their emotions and life force when they were feeling the most fear.

Fun Facts

KGBeast has trained a protege, the NKVDemon.

KGBeast has worked as a henchman for Lock-Up during his tenure as Blackgate warden during the events of No Man's Land.

[martaking4]

How to Hire Hitman Services For Murders

How to Hire Hitman Services For Murders

If you're planning on carrying out a murder, you could be wondering how to hire hitman services. Before you decide to do this, there are always a few things you need to know. First, the expense connected with hiring a hitman. Also, you can find common myths about hiring a hitman. Looking more visit hired assassin.

Hiring a hitman for murders

Hiring a hitman for murders is an exceptionally risky move, as the people who hire hitmen aren't protected from prosecution. While they might believe that they are protected by their contracts, they are just like guilty whilst the killers themselves. It is essential in order to avoid hiring an inexperienced hitman who may botch the job.

Hiring a hitman for murders is possible online, with the help of the dark web. These sites use bitcoin as escrow and for tracking their customers. Consequently, it is impossible for police agencies to shut down these sites, which are hosted on anonymous servers. Additionally, users of the sites can hide their IP with a browser called Tor.

Hiring a hitman for murders isn't legal, and you shouldn't pay the hitman in advance. It's possible that the killer will try to escape together with your 50% advance, or worse, get arrested. For this reason a lot of people prefer to hire a hitman online. In addition to preventing the danger to be arrested by the police, utilising the dark web is also safer than meeting a hitman in person. In addition to being anonymous, lots of the top websites offer escrow services, where customers can submit proof of their bitcoin payment before releasing the funds to the killer.

Costs of hiring a hitman for murders

The costs of hiring a hitman for murders may differ greatly. Many estimates range between PS200 to over PS30,000. These fees are calculated predicated on publicly available information, such as for instance news reports and academic studies. Click the dollar figure for more information. The most common cost for hiring a hitman is PS200.

Based on the FBI, around 70 to 90 murder-for-hire cases are investigated annually. The fee varies widely, but recent quoted fees can range between $25,000 for popular on a spouse to $600 for a murder on a girlfriend. In one of these, an Idaho man paid a contract killer $10k to rig his wife's car with a pipe bomb.

Fortunately, the expense of hiring a hitman for murder is much cheaper than it used to be. Online marketplaces enable you to browse ads from numerous killers from across the world. You can even pay in bitcoin, which really is a much safer form of payment. Many top hitmen sites offer escrow services for customers to use. You should use this to provide proof that the money is really planning to the proper person.

Common myths about hiring a hitman for murders

The myths surrounding hiring a hitman for a murder are legion. It's a terrible act, and while Hollywood has done its great amount of romanticizing it, assassination remains an exceptionally serious and dangerous activity. A recent study from Birmingham City University painted a grim picture of low-paid, unsophisticated murder tools.

While hitmen may be referred to as exotic in movies, they are actually local men and women that are often broke and hard-up. Most hitmen are amateurs, and most of them get caught. As a result, most hitmen contracts are for a lifetime insurance payouts or shady business deals. Which means that the majority of the time, they are hired on the spur of the minute, and are therefore inexperienced in the field.

Hiring a hitman isn't legal, and there's no need to advertise in the classifieds. Most people don't connect to professional killers, so that they look for referrals from acquaintances or neighbors. In either case, they are likely to hire an inexperienced hitman who will botch the job.