#mi:valentine18

[sanaxmi-blog]

➽ dirty deeds (done dirt cheap)

After processing hundreds of useless snippets of ‘evidence’ retrieved by the rookie officers — embarrassingly, many of which were only their own fingerprints — your seniors are starting to believe there’s no chance of finding a real link between the common shoe footprints of all the thousands of visitors trampling through the forest per day and the case. Maybe they’re right. What is certain is that the SPD is inundated with work and overtime, and it seems that your seniors aren’t any different, dropping even only a portion of their work on your desk that afternoon with bags under their eyes to rival a panda. “Please can you run these images taken at the third crime scene? There’s a few footprints from around the vicinity that— I don’t know— Was it really necessary to take a photograph of something down the other end of the road in someone else’s front garden? I feel like they just want us to never sleep. Thanks, Sana. Feel free to run it all in whatever order you like.”

The station has been a madhouse ever since the first murder.

It’s lucky that Sana doesn’t mind perpetually living in her office--since that’s exactly what she’s been forced to do since this new killer made himself known and sent the SPD into a frenzy chasing his shadows. The forensics department is horribly overloaded with evidence to run. With so many rookie officers working the case, there’s easily triple the amount of samples to examine. Many are superfluous, more are contaminated.

Though she’s been spared the horror of sifting through the physical evidence retrieved from the scenes, she has more hours of security footage to review then there are hours in a week. She’s actually worried she’ll go cross eyed if she spends one more minute staring at fuzzy security feeds. The bottle of eye drops tucked next to her Pusheen plush on her desk has almost run empty.

The sight of her superior slipping into her office with a thumb drive in hand isn’t exactly a welcome sight. Still, he holds the promise of a distraction in his hand, and so Sana can’t help but perk hopefully as she turns her chair to face him. Even more work would be welcome if it can save her from reviewing security cams for just an hour.

“Of course! I’ll get right on it, sir,” she chirps, holding both hands out with palms up to accept the flash drive.

She waits only until the officer takes his leave from her office before spinning her chair to face her monitors, lips pulling into a gleeful smile as she makes quick work of plugging the drive into her usb port. With a few keystrokes she has her system begin encrypting the data contained on the drive. While her computer works on that, she dismisses the security feeds from her screen displays, minimizing the program so that she could return to it later.

Once the files are done encrypting, she pulls them up to begin to parse through them.

Her nose wrinkles when she finds herself staring at a photograph of a shoe print in the mud.

“Well I’d hardly call this an improvement,” she grumbles to herself, smile fading into something more akin to a pout as she scoots her chair closer and peers at the photos flicking rapidly across her screen. She finds picture after picture of footprints, intermixed with blurred streaks of light or a bright fingerprint covering the camera lens.

Clearly none of the rookie officers have left behind a career in photography.

“I do not get paid enough for this,” she muses, reaching blindly for her half-empty energy drink with one hand while she begins to type with the other.  She’ll have to sort the images by type, but once she has that finished she can run them through a program that will handle the rest. It’s a tedious task. Still, it’s a welcome break from those security feeds.

Half an hour later, a dialogue box pops up on her center monitor, alerting her that a match has been found to one of the shoe prints. Eyes still on her screen, she pulls up a browser to do a search of the brand name. It a foreign brand that she doesn’t recognize.

And apparently an exclusive one.

Sitting straighter in her chair now that she’s found a foxhole to dig into, she pulls up the SPD’s information database on a third monitor, searching local sales records for matches to the shoe’s size and brand. Absently, she chews on her lower lip as she awaits the results. Her pulse is beating a little louder in her ears, the adrenaline of a hunt setting her on edge as she waits.

After so many days of nothing, she might finally have a lead.

The moment that the search results light up her screen, Sana begins rifling through the mountains of files on her desk in search of her rarely used desk phone. She finds it buried beneath a stack of police reports, the handset somehow disconnected from the base, but after the cord back in she’s met with a jarring dial tone when she lifts the receiver to her ear. With a grin, she quickly dials her superior’s extension and falls back into her seat.

“Lieutenant? It’s Sana,” she says in lieu of greeting, eyes turning back to the three names blinking cheerfully at her from her monitor, “I think I might have found something.”

[mixdoyoung]

❝ welcome back, darling ❞

@mixhyunwoo

Kicking up his feet, he rests his ankles on one end of the couch's armrest, taking care not to have the sole of his boots touch any part of the furniture. Dirtying furniture with grimy shoes is a no-no. Pulling out a squashed cushion from under him, he re-positions it on the other end of the couch to make a more comfortable back rest. 

He brings his shoulder bag up to his belly, hugging it like a pillow and shifts around for a bit until he finds his sweet spot before then proceeds to sink down into the plush (only because it was so worn) couch with a satisfied sigh.

Settling in, he reaches for the remote on the coffee table with one hand, while the other plunges into the depths of an open bag of prawn crisps. He momentarily forgets he’s got a mask on, and stabs a cracker into it, startling himself enough that he almost drops the remote.

“Fuc— oh.”

Hooking a finger onto the fabric, he pulls it down and tucks in under his chin allowing his mouth access to the tasty, salty snack.

“Man, how old is his TV? This has gotta be the thickest, most pixelated flat screen I’ve seen in awhile...” 

He matches each crunch of a cracker to the clicks on the remote as he flips through the channels, “I can’t believe he doesn’t have cable either. Damn, how bad is a cop’s pay? Is this a guy really as high up as I think he is???”

The ding of the elevator and thud of heavy footfalls are surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) clear over the television. The walls in these apartments were ridiculously thin, he notes.

Doyoung perks up, contemplating his pawn seasoning dusted gloves for a moment before deciding to slyly dust them against the couch. Guy’s couch was pretty ripe already anyways. Neatly rolling up top of the half-finished bag of crackers, he smacks his lips, cleaning off any salty residue left around his mouth before tugging his mask back up.

Just in time for Mr. Cop to walk right in.

Turning, he hooks the crook of his neck over the couch, lifting a lazy arm up in greeting, “Yo, whatsup,” he croaks, voice slightly hoarse from all the crisps. 

[mibulletin]

BREAKING: SECOND COUPLE FOUND IN VALENTINE KILLER COPYCAT CASE

TW MURDER, DEATH, DEAD BODIES

Receiving an anonymous call at 9:05 PM, the SPD discovered two more victims at Seoul Forest just ten minutes later in a case opened by a first couple being found in the early morning of the 8th. Rumours are circulating that the male victim is a paramedic from H Plus Yangji Hospital, also rumoured to have been involved in last year’s investigation. We reached out to the hospital for a statement, but one has not yet been made. 

Causes of death have not yet been released for either couples, and a senior officer present refused to disclose any additional details to reporters gathering at the scene. A handful of protesters are calling for the SPD to be more transparent about the threats in the city so citizens can take better precautions to stay safe, however the SPD have not made a statement on this. Information is limited currently, but watch this space for updates.

Follow this link to donate to the Valentine’s 2017 Foundation. 

COMMENTS

[ +2,948, -18 ] may they rest in peace. tragic.

[ +893, -294 ] don’t say I didn’t warn anyone.... 

[ +383, -83 ] I feel like chief choi doesn’t really know what to do, heol... same, chief. same. 

[ +274, -329 ] those parents are everywhere lately. I appreciate what they’re doing for other families, but shoving your advertisements down my throat makes me want to donate less and less... 

[jinxmi-blog]

loose lips

TW DRUGS A tip has reached the ears of your higher ups that a certain Black Lotus drug dealer knows more than he should about a Shin Nahee. “It’s a reliable source,” your senior insists, “so we want the best on this job. Don’t fuck this up — we can get information in ways the SPD can’t. While they’re wasting time looking for footprints in the mud, it’s us who are doing the dirty work.” 

According to the call received mere hours ago from a public phone, voice transformer and all, Shin Nahee had called the dealer six times in the two weeks prior to her death from another public phone in Dongdaemun-gu. The calls themselves can’t be accessed, but a little extra fizz to their drink and the dealer should be talking plenty. 

He frequents a nightclub in Gangnam-gu, particularly a private VIP lounge in the back for deals and pretty prostitutes of either gender. “It’s up to you to decide who to send, or to go yourself, but know that no matter what, if this fails, it falls on you, Jin.” 

Behind the mask of control there’s always a little shiver of fear that runs down his spine whenever he has to deal with Black Lotus. It’s not irrational; Jin is all-too aware of where this particular fear has its roots and he’s determined that he will not let it debilitate him. He knows this drug dealer, but it has been many years since Jin was under the same organisation as him, and he hopes a mixture of time, alcohol, and drugs will dull the dealer’s memory. 

He decides to go himself. Of course, he has any number of prostitutes he could send in his place, people who are capable and trusted, and it would have the benefit of getting to avoid this particular blast from the past, but it feels wrong. It falls on you. Salvatore are serious about this case, not to mention the SPD. There’s a weight to this job. Even if it turns out to be fruitless, they have given it to him for a reason. At least if it falls on him, it will be his own fault. He can take responsibility for himself. And so bribes the security at the club for access in the afternoon, then pretties himself up with BB cream and kohl and begins to make his way back to Gangnam-gu. 

This whole Valentine’s case makes his skin crawl. He’s seen far worse, of course. It’s not so much the crime itself but the pattern it’s copying that bothers him. Even when justice is served and the culprit is locked away their deeds live on to haunt the city. Hell, what if they caught the wrong killer last year? It opens a can of worms for Jin, filled with several questions he doesn’t have the heart to focus on right now. It’s a bitter pill to swallow but he forces it down, focuses on the task as he climbs the steps to the VIP room with his most charming smile, two flutes of champagne in hand (his favorite drug swirled into both). He’s unarmed, but guns have never been his weapon of choice. 

The dealer goes by the name of Mamba, an alias Jin has always thought to be rather redundant. He must be both blind and arrogant to think he is anything as deadly as the snake he’s named after. He feels the curl of dislike in his gut, reminding himself that even if Mamba is a brutish sort of man, his drugs have doubtlessly ruined hundreds of people, and that he almost definitely is armed and dangerous. Seokjin wonders if he had anything to do with his brother, when he was dabbling in Black Lotus’s world of drugs. It’s easy to plaster himself along Mamba’s side as he finishes pleasantries, ending a deal with a few lines of coke with his client. Thankfully there’s no flciker of recognition when he looks at Jin’s face, nothing more than a sleazy smile; it takes all of Seokjin’s self-control to resist the urge to gag. He’s played this game before though, and he presses the first glass into Mamba’s hand with a simpering smile as he edges even closer. 

He’s played this game before, but it’s been a while.

It doesn’t take very long. The drugs are potent, and Jin successfully feeds two glasses to him in quick succession. Fifteen minutes, a few sloppy kisses, a shed jacket and a wad of cash stuffed into his back pocket later, and the drugs have kicked in. Mamba’s hands stop roaming and fall listlessly by his side as he rambles to Jin, about how much he hates the previous client, how frustrated he is with his superiors, how stressed he is. Jin wades through the information carefully, finding a way he can spin it to his own advantage. “Of course you’re stressed,” he says, a placating hand on his shoulder. “With this whole Valentines killer, everyone is tense.” He fakes a shudder. “It’s terrifying. I don’t feel safe on the streets anymore. How horrible for the victims!” 

This sets Mamba on another rant, about the cowardly nature of the murders, about how the killer should fight them “like a man!” He continues on about what he would do if he ever came face to face with the killer. The drunken bravado is false, but Jin probes. More useless information, until—  

“He killed Nahee-yah, bastard. Poor kid.” 

“Did you know her well?” Could the first victim of this killer have associations with a Black Lotus drug dealer? The media seemed to think her an innocent martyr, but this suggests otherwise… 

“We went to school together. I talked to her lots, y’know. Before she died. She kept calling me.” 

“Why?” 

“Why does anyone call anyone? To talk.” He coughs. “Poor girl. She’d had her own problems too, y’know? Money problems. Ruins everyone.” 

Jin wants to say that many financial problems are caused by drugs and gang activity, but holds his tongue. He probes some more, but the information is useless. Mamba knows nothing of substance about the victim, apart from what he said about financial problems. Which in itself is incredibly interesting to Jin. There is the chance, of course, that the financial problems she had told her old friend about were unrelated. But why him? Why from a public phone? Did she want money from him? Could she have borrowed from the wrong people? A possible motive; are the attacks not as random as he had thought? 

It’s still unclear, but Jin is no detective. He remains for another twenty minutes to clear the air of any suspicion, doesn’t protest when Mamba shoves more money in his hands for a few more vague fumbles. He’s sufficiently out of it, enough for Jin to collect his money, slip on his jacket, and exit the VIP area while Mamba begins to snore on the couch. He’s relieved most of all; that he wasn’t recognized as a runaway ex-Lotus whore, that it didn’t get violent, that he gleaned something useful. He’s also reminded of how much he hates the scum like Mamba, how important the work Salvatore is doing remains. He goes home with a spring in his step despite his worried features, calls his superior upon arriving home, and arranges to go to the SPD tomorrow. He doesn’t care about the judgmental stares when they know his methods. He doesn’t even care that this information may or may not be useful; he wants to do whatever he can to get this killer off the streets. Isn’t that what Salvatore is all about?

[misanghyuk-blog]

➟ babysitter

It’s a different senior this time; one with less sleep in the corners of his eyes and a more sinister curve to the edge of his lips. He seems to be advancing on you at an increasing pace, steps heavy before he comes to a stop a foot away from you in your familiar Salvatore headquarters. Other members stop, stare, but one short glare has them scattering. 

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out you disobeyed a direct order?” He asks, quietly enough not to gather everyone’s attention, but loud enough that those brave enough to stand close can eavesdrop with ease. “I get it; you kids think you can do anything you want without any consequences, but you don’t work for yourself. You work for us, for a higher cause, and your true colours regarding your loyalty to that have clearly shone through in this assignment.” 

He seems far too pleased for a man who claims to be betrayed, but all becomes clear moments later, after he’s paused for what he likely assumes is dramatic effect. “You’ll be accompanied by another Salvatore senior for a week. Everywhere you go, we’ll be watching. If you take one step out of line— Well, we’ll see.” 

Well, he supposed that he should have seen a punishment coming after disobeying a direct order the last time. And he’d hardly covered it up, so it was bound to get found out eventually. He’d sort of been hoping for a slap on the wrist and a ‘don’t do it again’, but instead he was basically given a babysitter to follow him around all over the place and that was ever so slightly annoying. Only slightly though, while the guy was there all the damn time and Sanghyuk was having to put him up on his sofa, it wasn’t really all that bothersome. Rather easy to forget the guy was even there half the time as he didn’t really say much. 

Life went on as normal, the only difference was the senior member following him around. Which did get him quite a lot of questions as to who this stranger was and why he was following him, to which Sanghyuk would always respond with a cheery grin and an idle, “he’s my babysitter,” and simply go no further on the subject. 

Though it did make his whole ‘helping everyone’ a little harder as he couldn’t go against orders this time or he might find himself in a little more trouble than just being followed and watched. And honestly, he thought the fact he was in trouble in the first place was rather bullshit. He’d thought joining Salvatore would mean he could help more, but he was almost wondering if it would have been better to stay solo and just try and do things on his own. But it was a little late for that now. 

It was not until he was approached for an officer wanting more information did Sanghyuk run into a little problem with this whole ‘babysitting’ thing. 

The officer wanted the rest of the less important information Sanghyuk had found on the couples when he had done his previous digging. Why he wanted this information, he wasn’t all too sure, but his first thought was of course he was going to help. There was no extra work needed on his part, he had all the information stored on his drives which he could very easily send off as he had kept it all just in case something like this had happened. No bother what so over. 

However, the problem was that he didn’t know if this would just get him into more trouble. If the senior wasn’t here, Sanghyuk would have agreed to help without hesitation. But the guy was here and he was watching. And the babysitter wasn’t helping in the slightest and was just standing there on his phone and not saying a damn thing. As usual. Sanghyuk didn’t even know why he was surprised at this point. It just looked as though he was going to have to make up his own damn mind about this and hope he made the right choice. 

And, if he did get into trouble, he supposed he could complain about it and say he wasn’t given any information about whether he could or not. 

In the end, he ended up only getting the information for the first two couples, more bank statements and information and social media conversations, throwing it all together quickly onto another flash drive. But he did the smart thing of leaving out the third couple, they were the reason he was in trouble in the first place and he doubted very much his superiors would like it very much if he just willingly gave even more information to the SPD about them when they weren’t supposed to have anything. At least, not anything from Salvatore. And while Sanghyuk did want to help and give the officer all he was asking for, he was not about to risk his neck further when he was already in trouble. 

With everything on the flash drive, he pulled it free from his computer, holding it between two fingers as he almost inspected it. Only then did he throw his head behind him to his babysitter who was just sitting there blankly staring at him. That was ever so slightly unnerving. “If I send this off, are you ordered just to shoot me or something?” He did have to wonder, brow inching a little up his forehead, “just wondering.” Though, all he got in response was more blank silence and Sanghyuk could just sigh. “Talkative, aren’t you,” he mumbled completely sarcastically as he moved for an envelope, slotting the flash drive inside and sealing it up with some tape. “Well, if you are about to shoot me, can you at least not make a mess? I just cleaned the floor.”

Which he would know about as he just sat there and watched him do it. 

He’d make a useless husband. 

Rolling his eyes just a little, Sanghyuk stood up, sliding the envelope into the back pocket of his jeans before moving towards the front door, sliding his feet in some shoes. All he needed to do now was drop the envelope off and that was the end of that. Though he paused with his hand on the front door, turning to stare at the other guy in the room. “Well, are you coming, dear?” He waited for the guy to stand up and come stalking over until he opened the door, letting his dear old babysitter through first before he closed it after him. Next stop, the local station to hand off the information and all he could do was hope that this was not about to get him into any more trouble. 

[erisxmi]

whatever it takes

“Do you know what I fucking hate?” A senior, usually dealing with the gang’s soldiers, calls you to see him at Black Lotus’ HQ immediately, an anger in his tone when he had arranged the emergency meeting that is perhaps not foreign, but certainly not expected. “Traitors. I hate fucking traitors.” He takes a deep breath as he sits opposite you, slides a brown file across the table and groans in frustration.

If you open it, inside you will find all the necessary details regarding a Black Lotus drug dealer named Mamba. His age, height, weight, most frequent locations ( Club ACE being first, unsurprisingly ) and a witness statement given by another member exposing that he has discussed his involvement with the first female victim not only with the SPD but with a rival gang, of which the member is unsure who. “You’re one of our best— If not the best, and I don’t think there’s any better punishment than to be reminded by Black Lotus’ pride why you never disobey the Lotus. By any means necessary, make him pay.”

Seulgi walks into HQ with a curiosity that only continues to grow—it certainly isn’t abnormal for her to be called upon; but so suddenly and by a senior that seemed especially pissed, this was rather surprising. She sits quietly, sitting slightly reclined back but still attentive to show him that she’s intently listening, but absent of any nervousness that could deter her. Even before she walked in, she had a strange feeling of readiness, and as she listened and careful hands moved to open the file given to her, her excitement only grows. At first, she attempts to hide this, keeping her expression neutral, but by the end she can’t help the smirk that curls onto her lips. 

Given the information, she can recall the traitor in question, and to say she was sad to see this happen was a lie; she was disappointed, certainly, but Eris had never had much remorse for those who turned their back upon the Lotus. She had spent too much time pouring blood and sweat (of origins other than herself) to see a lack of loyalty managing to exist within their ranks. It pissed her off, too, to be absolutely honest about the situation. She couldn’t stand for this and to go behind their backs twice? She wouldn’t stand for this.

There was no questioning her answer, her mind made and heart set into the loyalty she held for Black Lotus, determination already flaring. She wouldn’t let this slip by her.

The folder is gently flipped shut before she looks up to her senior again, the smirk still settled onto her lips and the fire she held evident in dark eyes. “You know, I hate traitors myself—they have no place here with us.” Eris stands, bowing her head out of respect to her senior before she falls easily back into her previous demeanor, a hand resting on the table as she leans over a little, the other hand picking up the file. “You will be able to count on me, sir. I’ll make sure the last thing on his mind is how badly he’s offended and betrayed the Lotus name.”  

tw: drugs, weapons, thoughts of violence, actual violence 

heads up: long post ahead!

The second the emergency meeting has drawn to an end, Seulgi is working through the information she’s been given, making calculations and thinking through a variety of ideas as she walks. With a killer on the loose, she’ll have to be careful, dreadfully so. There can be no mistakes...but given that this is personal business, she has no doubt that she’ll be able to pull strings that she wouldn’t be able to normally. Although, these wouldn’t be strings she would have normally considered to be available to her—there weren’t too many cases of traitors after all.

As she does with ever mission, Eris will spend an intimate amount of time with the information she was given, and any information she can gather without involving much of anyone else. The last thing she would need is someone telling Mamba of her sudden, heightened curiosity in him. 

The assassin never took special interest in anyone without reason, after all. And it was simply better if she lets him know on her own.

So as she’s making her plans, she finds other useful information without having to dig into much of anyone—it’s easier to casually find out things when the target your after is within your ranks, and hopefully, it’ll be easier to drag him down.

Eris decides she needs to make a call to Lotus’ best and most efficient drug dealer; words she will have used to gain his interest in her proposed deal to him, going to the man without a hint of true favor one way or the other as she requests to be supplied with something deadly and strong—something that she can easily use to make for a quick kill.

It wasn’t out of the normal for an assassin to work closely with a dealer in order to get a job done, and it certainly wasn’t out of question for someone such as Eris who was willing to do whatever she could to get the job done.

Even if that meant deceit. 

She’s come up with an elaborate fake target to throw ideas and make discussion of with Mamba, nothing of it even closely relating to him or anything he’s done, she seems and sounds neutral, even if with every passing second she just wishes she could slash the typical smug look off his face, that she could watch the fear form in his eyes. But not yet, she has to play the part of a trusting colleague (at one point in which she was), one that wants to use his skills and connections to better help the Lotus name.

A meeting is arranged easily, in the dead of night with not another soul around except maybe a cleaner on standby to Eris’ knowledge where Mamba can give her what she’s asked for and for her to make the payment for his assistance, or so she had promised. 

“I just want you to know I’m glad you were able to make it through with this. I know it was short notice, but business is business as you know.” 

“I’m here as we both are, just to get a job done.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Eris makes the dangerous decision that only someone trusting would, stepping in closer, gloved hands moving to withdraw the envelope with his “payment” in it, the envelope in which she accidentally drops. “Oh, I’m sorry-”

“I got it.”

Of course you do. A smirk curls onto her lips as she pulls the small, silenced and loaded gun from her pocket, aiming it right at his head—where the space in between his eyes will be as he looks up at the sudden, quick movement she’s made.

“This is for betraying and tarnishing the Lotus name.”

“What the fuck—”

She cuts him off — literally cuts him off in the same breath and moment that he’s looked up to her, startled and confused, pulling the trigger to hit him right between the eyes before another muscle can be moved, before another word can be said by either of them.

She hadn’t planned to listen or fight with him, anyway. Eris trusted what she was told and asked to do, and she wasn’t going to leave any room for any word otherwise. She didn’t want to listen to a snake anyway.

The only thing she wish she could have done was made him suffer, to slowly rip the life out of him and make him know that he would harshly pay second by second for what he had done; but this would have to do, and her energy would need to be saved as the assassin moved to allow for the next phase to take place and to immediately report back to her senior. 

The deed was done, and she could only hope it was for the best.

[mixholmes]

“We need more man-power.” 

Perhaps it’s a little reckless for Chief Choi Jiwoo to be sending most of the Yongsan precinct out to Seoul Forest, rookie officers and all, to gather evidence. After all, an empty headquarters is a vulnerable one, even if she remains tucked inside her office with visuals on every entrance — one woman against the four gangs of Seoul and all those unaligned isn’t a particularly fair fight. 

But, the Chief’s word is the Chief’s word, and for many, this is the first time they’ve been out on the field for a long time, or ever, so the opportunity, as morbid as it sounds, is exciting. 

A senior officer informs you of your placement along the tape at the crime scene, keeping hysteric civilians, protesters and, of course, pesky reporters from getting an eyeful of the horrors that lie ahead. For the most part, it’s an easy placement. As keen as they are to get the latest scoop, they seem more interested in battling one another to the front than pushing past — at least until one brave cameraman sneaks under and makes a break for it. You’re the closest officer to him, and Chief Choi had been very firm about keeping the investigation a secret… You better start running, huh?

Myungsoo wasn’t a rookie cop so he had  no idea why he was here, but since there needed to be control and maintenance of the crowd along the police tape, he would help out. He was part of the Yongsan team and as much as he claimed to hate going out into the field, he craved the whole field experience. He would have rather been with the techs and the others on the scene, but he was given a job by Chief Choi herself and he was going to do it. 

He was no rookie, but he was lazy and unambitious enough to work hard and aim higher. 

“Everyone keep calm!” he exclaimed, trying to calm the crowd in front of the police tape, who made an attempt to get past him. Myungsoo was almost good enough to keep control of his section with ease. Sobbing people and nosy reporters had his hands full. He hoped than not one would be dumb enough to go under his nose. He was strong but he wasn’t a fast runner. 

And of course, as his luck often sucked as much, a cameraman with a bulky camera snuck past the tape, amidst the chaos at his section. Myungsoo glanced over at another officer close by and motioned for the other keep control, as Myungsoo took off running after the guy. He was a photographer as well, so he had an inkling as to what a good picture can do for a story, but this was not the time nor place for any of this bullshit. 

“HEY! STOP!” he exclaimed, chasing the cameraman. The camera man was fast, but Myungsoo was faster using his physical prowess to tackle him to the ground. “I told you to stop, didn’t I?” he asked. 

The cameraman groaned. “I think you broke something.” Myungsoo settled on top of the other male and reached for the camera. “Irrelevant. You are interfering with an official police investigation and I have to conficatse your cmaera.” he said, snatching the camera and starting to flip through the picture. “Can youat least get of?”

“Negative. I can’t be sure that you shall run. So you better get comfy. because I’m not moving at all.” he stated. Myungsoo flipped through the camera, deleting everything that pertained to the crime scene. The camera man stared at him. “You’re ruining my job.” he said, wincing in pain. Myungsoo glared at him. “Your phone as well.” he said. Myungsoo was going to forcibly confiscate all the footage. 

[mixthanatos-blog]

a night to regret (event solo)

The order comes straight from the top; he’s adamant that this sudden opportunity be used wisely. It’s not ideal, not having time to appropriately plan an attack on the SPD of all people, but it’s not in anyone’s best interests to deny a request from your leader, no matter how ridiculous. 

But he has something else for you. He suspects the other gangs will take this opportunity to make some kind of strike also — that they’d be foolish not to. With Syndicate holding the Yongsan-gu precinct hostage, keeping the SPD torn between the Valentine Killer and the breach of security, he predicts Black Lotus will slip under the radar to recruit new talent, and he wants you to do the same — sort of.

( tw: kidnapping, mentions of prostitution/trafficking, mentioned thoughts of violence )

( long post ahead ! )

There’s something inside him that turns itself off immediately as soon as he’s given the order — a guilty conscience silenced, a burning distaste stamped out. It’s business, business that he has no right to deny. It’s a terrible business, but he didn’t reach his way to the top by disobeying orders or taking everything into his own hands—he had one person to answer to, and if he answered incorrectly, he might as well ensure any of his death wishes are in order. 

This is what he has to think of to go through with everything, to make sure his emotions don’t tangle in with the operation at hand.

He hates it. But it doesn’t matter how he feels, or what he thinks.

Thanatos decides on a group of some of the most trustworthy Syndicate members he can gather; ones that have no record of any problems (or at least having created problems), with no suspicions, and that were especially recognized for how well they had done in the past. A soldier that had proven themselves useful and loyal, a charismatic ‘salesmen’ of the group, a well rounded assassin or two that did well with capturing targets, and unsurprisingly, traffickers that worked under and solely in the Syndicate name.

It’s disheartening that there’s some in specific he has to intentionally leave out, for their skills would be good assets to the small team he’s building, but he can’t risk too many knowing about the operation—that could cause potential danger to the situation, and risk of failure. Even though he wished it could fail and it not be a problem, that they could come home empty handed. But he knew the boss would not take that or any excuse with it as a proper response.

There’s seven of them, including himself, that are to attend a nice little concert within their own territory, in Gwangjin-gu—and of course, they will arrive and leave separately. Two people are on standby in case they are needed; both disguised as cab drivers. There’s less room for suspicion this way, especially when they were to leave with extra people in tow; he’s decided on each member taking care of one target, save for the traffickers who were requested for at least two if they felt they could manage or find the opportunity for such. In the end, there should be at the very least seven men and women, at the most, there were to be fourteen people in total. He had made specifications for none of them to be under eighteen (or suspected of being under eighteen), and no harm done to them if absolutely possible. He hated this, but the least he could do was be thoughtful about it. 

Even if thinking about it made him sick.

If anything, Geunsuk hoped that in the end, he could recruit as many of them into positions that didn’t require placing them under the care of a pimp (even if pimps were checked and monitored often to ensure they were doing their job properly); or if he could manage, slipping those that couldn’t be placed elsewhere into more trustworthy hands of an old friend who would certainly be able to care for them and prepare them for the world they were being shoved into. These were his ideals for the situation, although it didn’t match with the exact ideal of the leader…he may not have had a direct choice in this, but he’d sure as hell try to use his persuasion to alter things a little, to ease the discomfort and disgust of the original order in its simplest form.

At the end of it all, as they had mingled within the crowds of the concert area, they ended up partially successful—although not all had gone according to his original instructions, they would have to work with the results they had, and work on protecting their new recruits from being ‘found’ by anyone. 

One member, the soldier, hadn’t had any luck in finding and luring in someone, though luckily for him, Thanatos only acted as if he was mildly disappointed (he really wasn’t), other members of the party ended up at least reeling in one (plus an additional person in one member’s case); two young men and two young woman had a cab drive home paid for them. Even if home sadly wasn’t the destination. 

Thanatos himself hadn’t picked or followed through with a target, deciding last minute that he was simply going to keep a watchful eye on things and be on standby himself in case anyone had needed him to save their asses or help them.

But in truth, perhaps he was a coward. He had made attempts to approach a couple of people during the event; but each of them had some, small quality that of course he’d pick out and notice, little ticks that reminded him of significant people in his life that made it impossible for him to carry through with the idea. 

Maybe he was growing soft. But he just couldn’t pull himself through bringing in someone solely by himself—his hands were dirty enough as it was, and he could only foresee the entire operation bringing him grief for days to come. 

Plus, other members of the party that were more skilled with this had made up for what was lacked; there were the four in the cabs, and then the two traffickers had managed another four people altogether in total. That gave them eight in an over all count, which was was more than enough to satisfy the boss’ request, above the minimum five, though below the maximum number of fifteen he had asked for. (For the second in command’s opinion, it was eight people too many.)

Although, by the time the concert had drawn to an end, and everyone in the party had made it back to the secured location Thanatos’ had specifically set up for the operation before the concert area had completely been left (and before any panic or concern could rise), there was a tiny bit of satisfaction, ill satisfaction, in the entire thing.

One of the members he had chosen for the party had been too rough with bringing in one of the girls, and it could be seen that she would evidently be badly bruised.

Geunsuk wanted to personally break the man’s nose himself right then and there; but he’d have someone else ordered to do that for him—along with the specific member’s removal from any and all further information that would be in the process to sort the people taken in captive, and a strict set of eyes placed on him for further events to be carried out. 

He was lucky the second in command was feeling terrible enough about the situation in general to not have him offed completely, just for this little mistake and disobedience against the specific orders he had given in advance.

Although he knew well there was nothing he could do to make up for what had been done. There was no apology that could ever amount to the lives that were ruined by this night; there was no forgiveness that could be asked for or given to make him feel any better. But he’d be damned worse if he didn’t do anything about the man who hadn’t heeded his orders more carefully. 

Even ensuring the men and women were fed, hydrated, and as comfortable as one could be in a contained, highly guarded space, wasn’t enough. None of it was enough, nothing would make up for what he had planned, organized, and carried out. He didn’t expect anything to give him any sort of redemption. He knew he didn’t deserve it, anyway. None of them did.

He would have to live with this, along with every one else involved, adding it to every other cruel thing he had done in the past, no matter if it was or was not of his decision ultimately. 

[murderincrp]

TW DEATH

“Over to you, Minho.”

The scene behind him is a stark contrast to usual. Instead of a public attraction— Instead of a museum, forest, theme park, is a home. Familiar yellow tape blocks off every entrance, SPD officers coming and going in the background. Minho looks visibly uncomfortable as he straightens up, professionalism his pride. 

“This morning at roughly 11 AM, the third couple to fall victim to The Valentine Copycat Killer were found.” The footage fades into shots of the outside of the house throughout the day, more officers milling around, collecting evidence, and other reporters starting to gather. “The couple—” He sucks in a deep breath as he appears on the screen once more. “The couple are confirmed to be 54-year old pharmacist, Oh Hyunsoo, and 56-year old school bus driver, Goo Seongsoo. They were more known, however, for founding the Valentine’s 2017 Foundation as the parents of last year’s first male victim, Goo Minsoo.” Images of the couple on this very news show only last night flash up on the screen, alongside an image of their late son. “Cause of death has been revealed to be strangulation, with no signs of forced entry. They were found by their neighbour, 47-year old Nam Hyeri, who promptly called the SPD. It is believed they had been dead a few hours before being found.”

An interview with said neighbour reveals, “it was horrifying. I can’t— every time I close my eyes, I see them, sitting there... lifeless with their— The thread between their fingers— Just like Minsoo— I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” 

Minho sighs, “The SPD would like to reassure civilians that your safety is their number one priority. Please remember to keep your home secure, and report any suspicious activity immediately. Thank you. Back to you, Jihyo.”

The tag for this event is mi:valentine18!

Welcome to part two of MI’s 2018 Valentine’s event! The above information, and that revealed in other posts here and on mibulletin, are public knowledge.

This post also marks the second opportunity to sign up for work! Again, please bear with us. It’s an incredibly busy time of year, but we want to make this as immersive as possible! As before, you can absolutely participate in this event without requesting a submit, but these will be handcrafted by your admins and relate directly to the event, so if you’re interested, send ‘I’m ready for work’ to micollective! Please note that these submits will have deadlines, however, if you cannot meet them, do not fear! The deadline to sign up for work is midnight at the end of Wednesday, February 28th. Submits will be sent out sometime shortly after that. Anyone can sign up for any round, regardless of whether or not you signed up for any of the previous rounds. 

As last year, more details will be revealed as time goes on, so keep your eye on the main and mibulletin! If you have any questions, feel free to message the main or Admins Gyu & Woo directly.

As always, the event in its entirety is completely optional. Have fun! ♥

[mixdoyoung]

Cross Jurisdictions

It’s amazing what can be caught on film. From criminals caught on CCTV emptying banks and jewellers, to drug deals busted by brave teens and their addictions to their phones, a strategically placed camera can blow a case wide open if used wisely, and with such advanced technology available now at the tip of our fingers, more and more is being immortalised in film every second. 

Still, photography itself as an art is highly respected. The availability of technology doesn’t accommodate for raw talent and passion, and it’s for this reason that a dark mobile phone image of a drug dealer handing over a parcel in exchange for a thick wad of cash is bought by the SPD for a couple hundred thousand won, yet a beautifully crafted photograph provoking the deepest of emotions can go for millions— sometimes more. Hell, even reporters will pay a hefty sum for sole access to photographic evidence of anything from celebrity love affairs to violent crimes such as the ongoing investigation sweeping the city. 

It all begs the question, really, when you discover a covered figure in the background of an image you had taken recently, an old newspaper headlined by the killings of the year before clutched between their fingers, what do you do with it? 

Life in the big city with a stable, legal job can be a monotonous drag. Even with flexible working hours, the general basic routine is still there. And routine, no matter how variable, is still routine. Wake, Eat, Play, Work, Eat, Sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Sometimes Doyoung wonders if he should pursued a more exciting career path. Like perhaps the army or police force. Or maybe a mortician. But he doubts he would’ve enjoyed either paths. The former is too rigid in structure (and not to mention, his conflicting morals) while he probably wasn’t smart enough to pursue a career in the latter industry.

Regardless of whatever path he might’ve pursued though, he reckons he would’ve ended up the same. Because excitement and adventure can only ever be sought after, and never obtained. Do something enough, and it becomes ordinary. Routine.

Watchman-work, too, would’ve gotten stale eventually if it weren’t for the continuous influx of objectives, challenges and secrets his little hobby offered. And this little hobby of his, or really just life in general, had a way of throwing him curve balls when he least expects it. Or sometimes, when he least desires it.

For example? Right now, the photograph of a somewhat aged male entering an ‘questionable’ establishment arm in arm with a dolled up young woman.

It’s nothing particularly exciting really, but evidence of affairs and the like on executives and whatnot are always useful tools when it comes to bargaining favours or payments when the situation calls for it. He’d planed to do what he always did with photographs such as those – clean, edit, tag, file.

That dark figure of an individual in the background? He was going to edit him out, because blackmail material or not, photography was art. And he didn’t need some random passerby detracting from his subject matter.

At least, that was what he was planning.

That was before he spied the newspaper article said mystery individual was clutching onto. The paper itself isn’t of much note, but the headline and date of issue certainly was. Everyone who had half a brain has heard of, and knew of the copy cat Valentine Killings going on as of late. And the fact that this man here, was holding onto a paper – an old, old paper – headlining last year’s killings was very suspicious indeed.

THIS was fucking juicy stuff; THIS was the kind of thing the Watchman chased after.

Or what he would chase after, if he had nothing else better to do. Because in the end, Watchman-ing was a hobby, albeit an extreme one. And he had other hobbies too – like video gaming. And what can he say? He’s kind of busy since it’s Seollal and all, with all the Lunar New Year festivities and events the games are churning out.

He has lootboxes to grind, online currency to farm and community challenges to complete before the season’s over. And whether one might believe it or not, he’s torn between chasing after that exclusive in-game skin, and diving into the secrets and intrigue behind what seems like a budding series of serial murders.

Tapping a fingernail on his mouse, he ponders a thought with furrowed eyebrows before deciding to further blow up the photograph. This time, with the mystery figure being the focal point. It easy enough – having done countless of times – for him to de-noise and sharpen the photograph, lightening the shadows where needed to get him a decent close up of said individual in almost no time at all.

Leaning back, he lolls his head and relishing in the crackling sounds that the motion makes, sighing as he feels the muscles around his neck loosen up.

“What do you think Felix?”

He cocks his head to the side, directing the question to the feline lazing by his desktop.

“I shouldn’t bother right? It’s my holiday. And Feng Min’s skin is waiting for me,” he muses to himself. Eyes wandering over to this other (gaming) monitor which had a streamer’s steam open. “The event is waiting for me…”

Next to Felix, his phone buzzes, signalling the arrival of a new message from the ‘KIM CLAN🤘🤘🤘’ – titled by his younger sister, obviously; these damned youngins – group chat.

Somebody(s) was spamming all the photos from their family reunion.

God, that had been an awkward affair.

How does one act around family they’re partially estranged from? They’re estranged enough that meet-ups feel awkward, but not estranged enough that snubbing them wouldn’t feel awkward. He has no desire to embarrass his family in front of the rest of their relatives. Their issues can stay theirs. And private.

However, it’s one thing pretending things are okay in front of just your parents, your immediate family. But it’s a whole other ball game pretending in front of extended family too. It’s tiring.

He blames his brother.

Rolling his eyes, he scrolls through the spam of photographs, mildly annoyed by the lack of symmetry in some of the snapshots. He stops at one – the family photo where everyone looks swell, and where Doyoung looks like he’s dead on the inside. There’s one extra individual in this year’s photo.

Hyung-nim had decided it had been high time he introduced his 'secret’ girlfriend to the family. Doyoung had already found out a long time ago (though not because he had been told), but it was news to the rest of the family. He had no idea why they were so surprised though. Kim Dohwan had everything there was to be had in an attractive male specimen. It was inevitable he’d have found a match in his league.

And he’d definitely found a partner of his league. A pretty woman. Smart too, he’d reckon just going off her master’s degree. And Doyoung had yet to find any dirt on her so, she’s nice enough it seems.

He thinks that Dohwan is thinking of marriage; He’s too much of a gentlemen. And also much too easy to read. Marriage must be on the table, or at least at the back of his mind, if he’d decided to introduce her to the family.

God, he hates that he knows him so well.

But he still can’t help but wonder if he’d be invited to the wedding, if there were one. It’s an errant thought, but he also wonders if his brother and his girlfriend would be the Valentine copycat’s ’type’.

“As if,” he scoffs, and yet, he still pulls up a window to look up the details.

“They fit his type… age wise, at least. Twenties? What do you think Felix?” He directs the rhetorical question towards his cat, absent-mindedly scratching its head while his eyes were still glued to the screen.

“Copycat only seems to be following the whole 'couples’ shtick. His first ones were in their thirties.”

But you never know.

He doesn’t like not knowing.

Drumming his fingers on his mobile phone, he ponders a thought. As he arrives upon a decision, he straightens up, pulling out a new window for the image. Sharpened and zoomed in on the mysterious individual.

He crops out the newspaper from the final image.

Digging through his drawer, he pulls out one of the many burn phones stacked haphazardly in the container and dials a number.

“Sweet Nightingale, mind doing me a favour?” He practically purrs into the receiver, his voice taking on that fiendish tone typical to that of his Watchman persona. “I need some help in looking into a person. I’ll send you the photo. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back. Oh! And happy new year ~”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response. Cutting the call as soon as he’s done. He knows the message has been delivered, and they both know that it wasn’t so much of a request as it was a demand. Nightingale also knows, that it’s always better to never ask questions.

It’s not as bad as he makes it sound. A mutually beneficial relationship, he’d say.

He sends over the photo.

The Watchman is returning early from his holiday, it seems.

There’s no point going to the SPD. From his experience, the law was always one step behind regardless because of their useless red tape and what not. With their luck, they’d just screw over what little tips that were handed over. And he wasn’t going to the gangs with what amounted to scraps. At least, not yet. He, as the annoying know-it-all, had a reputation to keep.

Besides, where was the fun in that?

His gaze falls on the family photograph still open in his mobile phone’s gallery.

“Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you, shithead.”

[mibulletin]

BREAKING: SECOND COUPLE'S IDENTITIES REVEALED

TW MURDER, DEATH After rumours surfaced recently of the identity of the male of the second couple to fall victim to the Valentine Copycat Killer, his and his girlfriend’s identities have been leaked by an anonymous source. 

The newest victims are revealed to be Jang Youngjin, a paramedic, and his girlfriend of eight years, Kim Minhee, a nurse. The two met and remained working at H Plus Yangji Hospital until their death. Cause of death is still unknown, as SPD Chief Choi Jiwoo and Deputy Chief Ji Sukjin have insisted the SPD are withholding information for the benefit of civilian safety. In a powerful speech, Deputy Chief Ji Sukjin said,  “There are many here that feel like they can’t trust the Police Department anymore, and I– I cannot blame you for that.” He continues, “So today I must ask, if nothing else, only for your understanding. I won’t stand here and beg for your trust, that I will have to earn. And we will. The Police Department will work hard and earn again what we have lost.” From civilian interviews, it seems trust in the SPD this year is significantly lower than last, but with a Deputy so honest, many are changing their tune. 

We have reached out to the families of the identified victims for comment, but one has not been made at this time. 

COMMENTS

[ +3,184, -29 ] rest in peace. 

[ +948, -330 ] this is disgusting; how dare you reveal their identities without their families’ permissions? the press should be ashamed of themselves.

[ +349, -73 ] seems as if h plus yangji hospital is cursed... heol...

[ +248, -189 ] deputy chief, jjang!!! 

[jinxmi-blog]

epicenter

TW: guns, smoking

“I’m sure you’ve heard that Mamba was killed recently. Probably an inside job, but it doesn’t really matter; we got what we needed from him, anyway. At least— what we could.” Your senior sighs, rubs at his temples as he moves towards you. “Unfortunately, we have… other trouble on her hands, but that’s none of your concern.” A little ambiguous but maybe it’s better off that way. Asking too many questions only seems to get people into trouble. 

Suddenly, he claps his hands together, rubs the rough skin of his palms against one another and grins. “We’ve got something a little different on offer for you, if you’re up for it. Unlike usual, you are actually welcome to decline, it’s… more a potential reward for good work than an order, but— I suppose that’s for you to decide. Anyway, how do you fancy going out on the field?” 

People far better than Mamba have died before their time. Jin won’t shed a tear. However, he preens under the praise. Few things feel better than knowing that he’s done well, that he’s proved his worth to Salvatore, that he’s been useful. When he’s offered a potential reward, he would be lying if he said that his curiosity wasn’t piqued. 

This wasn’t what he had in mind. He’s sort of stunned. Seokjin has never been good at these types of missions; who is going to gain from this? He has a gun under his jacket, and he hates the cool metal radiating death against his skin. However, he’s never been one to refuse a job; optional or not. 

This mission already raises more anxieties than normal, especially due to its impromptu nature. The quick rundown of the building shows only one security guard lingering near the entrance. He comes out for a cigarette break, and Seokjin nods to one of the soldiers on the job with him. He walks along the street, the soldier in step with him, pulls a cigarette out of the box in his jacket pocket. As he passes the guard, he nods. “Hey, you got a light?” The guard nods, turns his head to reach for his back pocket, and the soldier strikes hard. The guard crumples and Jin nods to the driver in the parked van across the street. By the time those inside the building realize what’s happening, it’s too late. 

Jin’s palms sweat around the revolver as they take control of the building. He doesn’t use it beyond pointing threateningly at a few members of the administrative staff, but behind his face mask he’s trembling. This is as far out of his comfort zone as he can imagine, and he hates it. But their hackers are quick; it takes them barely minutes before they’re nodding, collecting the information they need. His heart thrums in his chest (field action is not for him) and before he knows it he’s back in the van, speeding away from a job well done. He heaves a sigh in relief, completely, blissfully unaware as to what’s going down in the city at that very moment.

[misanghyuk-blog]

➟ wearing thin

“The SPD is wearing… thin, shall we say.” Your superior doesn’t look like he’s been getting much sleep either — a strange sight is bags under his eyes, but it’s not as foreign on the face of a man being wrung just as tight as the senior SPD officers actually assigned to this case. He carefully pushes his hands into his pockets and retrieves a small flash drive, waits for you to flatten your palm before him before he presses it into the centre. “On here is everything we — us and what the SPD will allow us to — know about this case so far. Last year’s is still being kept under lock and key, so we can’t make any direct connections to that beyond what was revealed in articles, but we can—”

He pauses to take a breath, rubs at his eyes with his thumbs and drags his hand down his face. “We can help now. We can do more than the SPD, faster, and we’re going to start by hacking into every account any of the first two couples had and find any connections between them that we can— days they all visited the same coffee shop, or a shop they’ve all bought from in the past two weeks— anything. Those dead parents are off limits, apparently, but that flash drive should give you a good place to start. Good luck, Epilogue.” 

‘What the SPD will allow us to’ did not really give Sanghyuk much hope as to what he might find on the flash drive, as he knew that they could be very very unwilling to part with anything. But he knew the names of the couples from reports anyway, and that was all he really needed to know as with a name he could easily find what he was looking for. But the flash with the information would save him a lot of time and effort and he was eager to get started. 

Settling himself down in front of his computer in his apartment, he inserted the drive, quickly clicking through all the information that was presented to him. Admittedly, it was more than he had been expecting, but it was hardly everything and he was still going to have his work cut out for him. Not that he was worried in the slightest, he’d simply lost count of how many times he’d hacked into banks to get statements and social media accounts to look through private messages. 

First off he just started with the non-legal part, scrolling through their facebook pages just to see if he could find anything on their timelines which might help connect them. Though he supposed the SPD would have done this already and if they couldn’t find a link there, he didn’t suppose for a moment that he would. And, as suspected, he couldn’t find anything interesting for the public view. 

So now started the fun part. 

Compiling all their social media accounts, he started cross referencing everything, where they’re locations pinged from their devices, who they were talking to, what was seen in the background of pictures to let him know where they were. It was a long slog, but he really didn’t think he was getting anywhere with it and was honestly already starting to fall asleep, head resting in the palm of one hand, elbow propped up on the desk as he used his free hand to scroll through some messages from the second victims were having with a group of friends. 

Fighting back a yawn, Sanghyuk sleepily pushed his glasses back up his nose with one hand and was about to call the social media stuff a dead end and move onto bank statements when suddenly, something caught his eye. It was the name of a cafe, they were talking about meeting up there, but that wasn’t what interested him because friends met up with each other all the time. What actually interested him was the name of the cafe because he was quite sure he had already read that name. 

Instantly sitting up a little straighter, he opened up the second tab with some messages between the first victims, only having to scroll a little further before the same cafe popped up in conversation. And it was clearly they had been there as they were talking about how good the hot chocolate was. With a little more research, it seemed as though it was a cafe based in Gwanak-gu and it finally looked as though it was a location that both couples seemed to frequent. And that was good enough for him.

Once he had saved all that it was on to the bank statements. 

This took some more time, taking almost an hour to crack through the security measures and get his hands on the statements. It would have probably been a lot easier if they could have managed to get the copies the SPD probably already had, but he knew he could hardly walk into the police station and just ask for them. That would no doubt get him into trouble, so it was down to using his superior hacking skills to get what he wanted. Which was time consuming and annoying, but he would manage. 

“How many shoes do you need?” He did find himself muttering as he went through the past statements of first female victim Shin Nahee. “Honestly, you buy a new pair every week. Do you even have room in your closet anymore?” And there was a bunch of other unrelated spending habits, fast food, home deliveries, occasional trips to the cinema. But the only other place he found that she frequented was Club ACE. 

And when he moved onto the other statements he seemed the same could be said of the other three victims. In-between all the boring payments for groceries and shopping trips and clothes, they had all made frequent payments to Club ACE. 

Now this was getting interesting. Once again pushing his glasses firmly up his nose his finger tapping started to get a little faster he worked. Digging through everything he had complied to see when they had been at this club and to find out if they happened to be there at the same time, just in case. And some might call this a job well done and call it a day, but Sanghyuk was not done. He just kept going, eventually stumbling across the information that both couples had visited CGV Satarium in the Times Square Mall on the same day, January 21st. Now that was interesting and something else he added to what he had so far.  

Eventually, however, he did seem to reach the end of his rope and couldn’t dig up anything else which might connect the two couples and work out where they could have met their victims. But it was a productive day and he was quite pleased with what he had managed to pull together. And, hopefully, the SPD would be able to do something with all this information and it wouldn’t all go to waste. 

He was about to pull out the flash drive, but paused, fingers hovering just over the drive as he frowned just a little as he remembered he third couple. He’d been told they were off-limits, but his superiors should know by now he didn’t tend to listen when he was told not to dig into something. And he wanted to help, they needed to catch the killer and they might be something in their accounts and bank statements which might help. 

With a small shake of his head, he quickly made up his mind that he was not about to listen to what he was told and decided to make a go and rifling through the parents information as well. He honestly didn’t even consider the fact that this might get him into trouble, bu damn the trouble, really, it would be worth it in the end and he wasn’t worried about not doing what he was told. 

It took another couple hours of digging through social media accounts (which there was not many of seeing as they were old and old people did not tend to be very good at technology) and bank statements before he was satisfied he had found everything and added what he had found to the information he had put together about the first and second couples. 

Finally pulling out the flash drive, he inserted his own blank one and copied over everything he had found. Once that was all done he put the drive into his pocket, using his heels to push his wheeled chair across the floor towards the draw where he kept some blank envelopes. Pulling out one he pushed himself back towards his computer desk, picking up a pen and scribbling down 'To whoever is investigating the copy cat killer’ (because it was not like he knew anyone specific. And while he could easily hand off what he knew to his superiors and they could hand over the information, this was just faster and easier and he was simply a man who took matters into his own hands. (But he did make a second copy of the information for said superiors, he wasn’t stupid enough to leave them out of it)

Then he reached for a post it note and wrote down his own short message and stuck it to the flash drive

Courtesy from Salvatore

Once the drive and note were pushed inside the envelope he sealed it up, making sure to to stick it down with some tape as well seeing as he never trusted the sticky stuff on the back of envelopes to stay shut. After that, it was quite easy to get into the station and drop the envelope on the front desk when whoever was sitting behind it wasn’t looking, making a quick exit again before they had noticed or got a look at him. 

Now all he could do was wait and see if they pulled their fingers from their asses and actually managed to anything with the information he had just handed them on a silver platter. 

[erisxmi]

— sell your soul (solo)

“Good work with Mamba,” is the first thing the familiar face says to you once you enter the meeting room a couple weeks later, “though I’m sure I don’t need to say that. Your work is always impeccable.” It’s the same senior from before, who handles soldiers but has been lumped with the task of handling Mamba— or at least, ordering you to. “The SPD have found him now, and we suspect they won’t launch any kind of investigation. After all, another gang member dead is exactly what they want.” 

He finally acknowledges the file in his hand as he sits down, slides it over the table to you with a coy smile. “Of course, we can’t be down a dealer, so we need to find a replacement. This,” he gestures for you to open it, “is Choi Jinseok. He’s been… having conflicts with some of our dealers in Gangnam-gu, because he keeps stealing their customers. I’m sure he thinks us a joke at this point, so I’d like you, our best, to persuade him otherwise — by any means necessary. Good luck.” 

“I am very honored to hear that from you, sir.” her tone and expression remain neutral, but it can be seen in the slight relief that falls from her shoulders that she’s more than pleased to be hearing this from one of her seniors, as well as hearing that the results had seemingly come out as expected — all were good and well in her book. One of her main goals as a lotus was to be the best, and to do the best for the sake of the gang, after all.

Thus, she doesn’t bat an eye as there’s a second part to this scenario that is being asked for her, instead, Eris takes the file as it is slid over to her, a smirk quietly pulling at the corner of her lips. She opens it as she is prompted to, keeping her eyes on him until the file is flipped fully open, gaze falling down to scan over some of the information as she listens to the man speak. There’s one part of his request that especially resonates with her — by any means necessary. The smirk on her lip grows, a hint of determination already rising in her eyes. She was always up for a challenge, and seeing just some of the information on this Choi Jinseok, she knew this could be quite the potential challenge. But she was ready to take it.

“I’ll prove to him we are no joke. You can count on me, sir. I’ll be sure to not disappoint.” She bows her head to her senior, a confident smirk on her lips that contrasts the usual indifferent expression. The file is closed for the time being, securing it in her hands once she is dismissed to leave, taking it with her as she goes to do further research — this was definitely a much different task than what she was use to, but she wasn’t about to turn anything that was asked of her down. Especially when it brought about good opportunity.

Eris studies the file closely, pulling from it all of the information it offers on this Choi Jinseok; she sees that he’s a bit older than her at 29, which might pose a threat in the means of someone younger trying to persuade him might seem like even more of a joke — but that just meant she would have to be extremely convincing. 

After looking through the file, Eris goes to meddle around headquarters, and at some point Gangnam-gu, in order to seek out any of their own dealers she can get a hold of to speak with them for more information. She wants to know the extent of all their clients, and if any of them know of Jinseok or if they have personally interacted with him — maybe she doesn’t have the ‘right’ to do so, but most of them don’t seem to have a problem answering the assassin’s questions…and for the most part, they don’t ask her why. Not that she would tell them what she was up to anyway. Confidentiality was important in her position, and something she kept a strong hold on.  That and she didn’t give much room for questioning.  Once she had done enough research to deem herself ready to execute the task she’s been given, she makes a few game plans.

Eris was never fond of newcomers. She never wanted them to know whether or not she would be easy on them, or if she would take any sort of liking to them. If anything, she only ever wanted it to seem as if she was merely tolerating them for being within the ranks, and only associating with them for giving their loyalty to Lotus. 

But she would have to seem fond of the idea of a newcomer in this case. And she would play that as much as she could.

Part of her very much wanted to employ any scare tactic she could, but with the outside dealer in question being known as stubborn, she wasn’t sure if she could exactly scare him. That would have to be plan B if he refused any of her initial offers or bargains. 

When she was ready and had everything she needed, Eris would seek the man out, ensuring she was loaded with cash, promises, and that they were alone when they met. 

“So, I hear you’ve been very interested in gathering clientele. Even if that means stealing business from people like Black Lotus.” there’s a coy smirk on her lips as she greets him, and she can tell he doesn’t look very pleased.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Get lost.”

“Personally, I would recommend you listen to me and talk with me. After all, you could leave here a man with more money in his pockets, and the security of even more money coming in and stability. Or you can leave here threads away from being a dead man.” Eris has sat herself done on a crate in the alleyway, pushing her hair back, her gun in one hand, a huge stack of money bundled together in the other. Dying certainly wasn’t on the table…but she wasn’t going to let him think she’d let him off easy.

There was only one option here, after all.

He’s quiet. Severely quiet. She’s afraid he’ll run for a few moments, but he turns more towards her instead, the mild disgusted look resting on his features turning more so into one of pure annoyance — but he was listening. 

“Talk. It better not be a waste of my time.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not here to waste your time or my time. This can be very quick and painless, if you’ll allow it.” there’s an almost painfully delightful smile hinted at the corner of her lips, Eris placing the gun away (but within easy reach if she needed it), as she moved to stand again and take a few steps towards him, the money still in her hand. 

“Here’s the deal: The Lotus want you specifically. Your talent of bringing in clients has been noticed. But why have to struggle trying to find clients, some from under Lotus dealers, when you could join us and never have to worry about finding clients, or getting a steady amount of payment? We have the widest range of territory, and the most influence. You could be apart of that.”

“And what if I think I’d be better off on my own?”

“1,000,000 won now says you think it’d be better off to join. Another 1,000,000 when you join assures that. My shooting range and accuracy says you’re making a mistake if you don’t.” her expression falls into a neutral one, holding out the stack of bills that have a piece of paper attached with the address and directions to the back side of  headquarters and the number to her current burner phone. 

“You really mean business, don’t you?” He eyes the money, as well as the gun at Eris’ side. She can tell he doesn’t doubt himself, and his expression hasn’t change much from when they began talking, but he reaches out to take the money and information from her, anyway.

“I’m giving you one day to decide.” she lets go of the chunk of money easily, continuing as she watches him read over the information. “Your business will be stronger and more assured if you join. If you choose to do so, you can contact that number or come to that address any time from now until this time tomorrow.”

“And what if I just take this money and don’t show up?” He seems almost cocky in saying this, as if he’s the one that is pulling something over her, but she won’t let that happen.

Eris moves quickly, grasping the collar of his shirt as she aggressively pulls him closer, her gun immediately in hand and pressed against his right temple, a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips.

“We will know where you are and when. If you run and hide, we will still find you. And you will regret deciding against this wonderful offer. Why make an enemy and kill your own business, when you can thrive and not have to worry about anyone coming after you to take you by force?”

Jinseok is silent, the fire in the assassin’s eyes reflecting against the dread in his. 

“I’ll consider.”

Eris lets him go then, the smile still on her lips as she watches him immediately put distance in-between himself and her. It’s evident he doesn’t want to fight with her outrageous persistence. “Alright. That first 1,000,000 won is yours. I’ll see you tomorrow — make sure you’re as early as possible. The second payment will be yours then, and a whole new list of clients.”

She’s made her point loud and clear, letting it be known that no will not be taken for an answer. And it won’t be much later that it would only be confirmed that her offer was not taken lightly.

[hansolmi]

➽ carnival of souls

Being approached by an SPD officer is never a pleasant experience, especially when he has such a pointed look on his face. He untucks his notepad as he reaches your side, a hand on your shoulder as he asks, “hello, are you Choi Hansol? Do you mind if I ask you some questions? It will only take a few minutes.” Without giving you a chance to answer, he continues. “Do you recognise any of these people?” Three pictures are held up to you. The first is a tall, rounded man. He seems to be stood inside a florist, an apron tied around his waist into a bow at his belly button. A smile upon his lips, he seems harmless — sweet, even. The second is another middle-aged male. A little shorter but considerably slimmer. Dark circles bring out his eyes, draw attention to his sharp nose and a scar along his cheekbone. “This one is an old photograph, but he shouldn’t have changed too much in a couple years.” Then, he moves onto the last.

The last is a familiar face; a Vanguard senior who had dealt a hand in your deal handing over your father’s company. His appearance is strikingly familiar as the photograph lingers in your view. “So?”

Hansol wonders when it is that seeing a policeman first started to make him feel sick.

He was raised to view the police as the good guys. For as far back as he could remember, his mother taught him to seek out the police if he was ever in trouble or scared. “It’s their job to protect you”, she’d say. “If you’re ever alone or scared, you just find a police officer, and he’ll protect you until I can come take over the job.”

But somewhere along the line, Hansol’s view of the SPD has shifted.

Now when he sees an officer, his pulse begins to race, his palms begin to sweat. He feels anything but safe in their presence. No, he feels as if a target has been painted right on his forehead, and somewhere in the wings a Vanguard sniper waits, gun loaded and aimed to shoot Hansol dead if he so much as opens his mouth.

This is no different.

The moment that the officer approaches him, Hansol’s stomach drops.

He’s standing in the lobby of AEGIS headquarters, and all eyes turn to them the moment that the officer makes his greeting. Surely it’s Hansol’s imagination, but he swears that you could hear a pen drop in the silence that follows. He’s navigating on autopilot as he reaches out to accept the officer’s hand in a shake, for once glad that such mundane pleasantries have become so second nature for him. It gives him an extra moment to swallow past the lump of fear in his throat before responding.

“Yes, I am,” he says, forcing what he hopes is a bright smile as the officer gives his hand a too-firm shake. “Of course, how can I help?”

He’s relieved when the officer releases his hand. Hansol resists the urge to swipe his hand against his pant leg, knowing it will only draw attention to the way that they’ve begun to subtly shake. The officer’s narrow eyed gaze is doing nothing to soothe his nerves. Neither are the gazes of the employees that he can feel weighing on him so heavily.

He blinks when the officer lifts the photos. For a moment, he’s startled out of his muddled mess of nerves, wide eyes taking in each picture held before him in turn.

He does recognize the man in the first photo. He’s a florist, one that’s done the arrangements for several events that Hansol has helped put together. Though Hansol’s never interacted with the man personally, he knows his face and he knows his work.

The man in the second photograph is a stranger to him. To his memory, Hansol has never crossed paths with the man. Given how many people he deals with on a daily basis though, he can’t say for certain.

The third man draws him up short.

Suddenly, the weight of the employees gazes are so heavy that he can barely breathe.

Hansol’s gaze snaps to the cop’s, too fast. “The first one,” he says, a little too loud. “I recognize the first man,” he clarifies, clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders. “He’s a florist that I’ve hired for a number of events.”

It isn’t a lie, Hansol keeps chanting to himself. He does know the florist. But he’s much more well acquainted with the man in the third photograph– and whatever this is? If it involves the police, good money says that they aren’t investigating a florist.

Still, there are far too many eyes on Hansol right then, and he has to sell his answer as best he can.

“My assistant might have his business card on file. Would you like me to check?”

“No, no. There’s no need. I’ve got the information that I needed, thank you,” the cop replies, tone indecipherable. His expression gives nothing away either, and Hansol feels faint. “You have a nice day.”

“You as well,” he parrots, remembering to attempt a smile a beat too late. The officer’s back is already turned as he makes his exit, and Hansol can only watch numbly as the older man disappears from view.

No sooner is the policeman out of sight than the board members descend, pressing Hansol for explanations that he doesn’t have, fretting over bad press and stock volatility. He excuses himself– or he thinks he does– before drifting away to the private bathroom.

Once inside, he locks the door, leaning back against it before slowly sinking to the floor.

[mixdoyoung]

☙ ring around the rosie ❧

It takes a little time, but eventually a positive ID comes back for the mysterious figure in the photograph you’d taken. After all, you can only scrawl through databases so fast, and with little to work with, it’s almost a relief for everyone involved to see the scanned driver’s license appear in front of you at the end of it. 

Her name is Lee Hayoon. She’s 28 years old and she’s been a member of the Seoul Police Department for 5 years, after graduating from the police academy in February 2013. Tall, reasonably slim, long brown hair— She’s what most SPD officers look like: tired. Her social media accounts are all public, and should you choose to look, you’ll find Instagram photos of lunches with her fellow officers dated back a few weeks before this all began, likely too busy now to take aesthetic photographs of her BBQ before digging in. Clicking through to some of her friends, you discover the same thing — last update being before the first two couples found sent the city into chaos. 

Why she had been reading an old newspaper isn’t really explained, however. The case was already open, so perhaps she was simply researching. (It’s not uncommon now to find the media, the public and the SPD all trifling through old files to make a desperate connection — After all, the press pay nicely.) Is there more to it than that, though? Is it really that simple?

“Lee Hayoon? Never heard of her.”

“Obviously. You talk like you know everyone in the SPD but your memory ain’t shit. You even forgot my name onc—”

“Quit being a smartass. I was just talking to myself.“ 

Doyoung can feel the man on the other side of the line rolling his eyes at him, and he wishes so badly he could reach across radio waves to poke those damned eyes out. 

“Yeah, kay. Aannyyyway, emailed you the deets. What shit has she done that’s caught your eye? She seems pretty clean to me as far as I’m concerned, but then again I’m not one who sifts for dirt – you are.”

The buzz of his mobile against his ear alerts him of the arrival of said mail.

“Hmmm… nothing much. But who knows? Everyone has something to hide,” he chuckles mysteriously, absent-mindedly twirling a loose thread dangling from the side of his jeans. 

There’s a moment of silence, as though the man on the other end were weighing his words in his head, contemplating whether to speak his mind or not.

“Even if she didn’t, you coul— would make something.”

The voice is quiet, subdued.

“You have such a low opinion of me. I’m wounded.”

“Please,” the scoff is derisive, “I’ve been working with you for awhile now. I know how you work. If things don’t go your way, you find some twisted way to force it your way… remind me again to never piss you off.”

His voice takes on an excessively saccharine tone, “Aww, I’m flattered. Also, you give me too much credit. I can’t do all of that alone you know? I’ve only made it this far because of you.”

“Noooo. No. I know that tone—”

“Which is why I have another favour to ask of you Nightingale ~” he coos, inflecting his voice for an ‘cutesy’ delivery. 

The heavy groan from the other end of the line has him chewing up the inside of his cheeks in an attempt to silence the laughter that threatens to spill past his lips.

“OH COME ON!”

“Geez, chill out. I always pay you for your trouble right?”

“But you always have such troublesome requests!”

“Yeah, could you help me retrieve some SPD files on the Valentine’s case?”

“See?! SPD?! Troubleso— wait what? You’re interested in the Valentine’s case too? Why?”

“Who isn’t? It’s the biggest thing in the city and I don’t want to be left out. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it Nightingale. Help me out, won’t you?”

“You can do it yourself can’t you? I know you know how to. You also have contacts in the force don’t you?” He whined.

“First of all, yes I could. But you’re a better and more equipped hacker than I,” Stroking someone’s ego was always a good way to nudge them in the right direction, Doyoung’s learnt. “And people are people and are difficult. It’s faster to just secretly swipe some things from them. Also, you have your contacts too right? I’m sure you and your gang can easily get what we want if you work together.”

“Oh, so this is a ‘we’ thing now?”

“Yes. Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Wait I didn’t agree to��”

“I’ll wire you your compensation tonight okay? Also call me back tomorrow with the deets. Love you!”

He hangs up. 

Doyoung wonders if he’s making a bad habit out of that – hanging up prematurely – but if he didn’t, the complaining would never stop. A man after his own heart, Nightingale was. 

Looking around, he spots a bus stop a few metres ahead and drops down onto one of the metal benches, hunching over his mobile device as he scrolls through the document Nightingale had sent him on Lee Hayoon.

It’s nice how thorough his contact was in his research, he muses as he scrolls through the woman’s Instagram.

But then again, he reckons that it couldn’t have been that hard. At least, not in this day and age where everyone seems to so easily share everything and anything about themselves on social media. Personal information is so easy to dig up in a world as connected as theirs. 

He stops by a 7/11 for an ice-cream sandwich. 

“Huh, how convenient. She lives close by.”

He’s in no hurry. So, with some help from Naver Maps, he takes a nice, leisurely half-an-hour stroll to Lee Hayoon’s place, enjoying the sweet treat and cool night air. It’s only 8PM when he arrives at the woman’s apartment, and he wonders if she’d be in. 

Probably not.

Slipping on his mask, he steps into the lobby and does a quick one over of the area, looking out for surveillance cameras – none that he’s noticed. But he does reckon there might be some in the elevator, so he decides to take the stairs just in case. He hadn’t recce-d the area like he usually would’ve his places of interests. 

Tonight’s visit was a decision made in the spur of the moment. 

As he’d expected, Hayoon was indeed, not home. Not that it really mattered since picking locks was a… hobby he’d honed over the past few years.

It isn’t long before he’s settled into the woman’s couch with a photo book off her shelf in hand, a bag of chips by his side as he plans to immerse himself in some black and white aesthetics till his target returned home. At the back of his mind, he wonders how the lady would take his unexpected visit. Like Officer Lee Hyunwoo maybe? Probably not. 

Lee Hayoon was a cop, certainly. But she was not the same kind of cop as Lee Hyunwoo as far as her profile ( so generously provided by her own social media accounts ) suggested. Different experiences, different approaches, likely different outlook. 

Unless of course, she wasn’t what she appeared to be. That would be exciting.

He is of the belief – innocent until proven guilty. Or at least, innocent of a specific act until proven guilty. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think she’s guilty; Everyone is guilty of something. And whatever she might or might not be guilty of, he could exploit for better or worse. He isn’t asking for much. All he wants are some answers, something fresh to latch onto. And perhaps… a mole. More contacts in the SPD is always welcomed.

It must’ve been a few hours before the front door swings open; He’d lost track of time waiting for her by then.

“Oh, hello Hayoon-ssi,” he greets casually, looking up from his position. “I want something from you, and for your convenience, I’ll make it quick.”

He tosses the book he’d been reading to the side, turning to face the woman in full.

“Let’s be ‘friends’.”

Tonight’s a wonderful night to make a deal with the devil.