art of the kill || chensung

six

Someone was tailing Jisung. They were making good work of it, but he knew.

He put his fork down indifferently and stood up. When a girl (the one he had talked to around a week beforehand) sent him a confused look, he announced a trip to the bathroom and walked out unceremoniously, his terrible salad being eyed pitifully by the other interns at the table. He had been pleased to discover there was no pointless hierarchy here, and like simply sat by like. He had felt the prickly sensation of being watched first when someone passed him by in front of his desk. He couldn't have looked, though, as they'd immediately know he was onto them.

He knew they would have stood up with him when he'd left the lunch hall, so he continued walking with ease towards the restrooms.

He was impressed by this person's abilities. It was quite difficult to tuck away your presence so completely.

He turned right while he was still a good few meters ahead and made a quick little round, coming back out a little further back in the hallway, behind this person. Slowing his breathing and rolling his heels, he slowly advanced on the back of the anonymity. They realised  too late.

Jisung scared them back against the wall and pointed an evil little blade towards their neck. It struck him that he couldn't figure out their gender, but he immediately decided they obviously identified as an idiot who stalked professional killers.

"Who are you?"

When they kept their mouth tight shut and their eyes narrowed, Jisung had the blade against their throat in one quick movement. Not even a wince.

"Who are you, and who sent you? I won't hesitate to torture you to your wit's end if you don't speak up right now, you fucking idiot."

"You'll see," they replied mockingly, crazy courage in their voice, "You'll see very soon, Park Jisung."

Jisung noticed too late their tongue wiggling between two of their teeth. Right before his eyes, they loosened a capsule and bit down on it with a different type of mania in their eyes.

Jisung pushed the person away and tried to grab their jaw to stop them, but recoiled as their eyes rolled up into their head and they collapsed.

"Fucking... fucking hell." Jisung let them drop completely to the ground and ran a hand through his hair.

"So there are others here, now? Who else is going to join the party? Fucking Michael Jackson?"

This had obviously been a member of a gang. No one other than an underground organisation would require members to terminate themselves before they could give away any information.

Not every gang did it, but many did. It was simply protocol.

Jisung could still taste the outside of the cyanide capsule between his teeth. In RFN, even the boss had had one. His jaw tightened. He had to forget about them.

This person had killed themselves over nothing. Jisung knew someone might be trying to impede on this operation, or was very coincidentally running their own here at the same time. It would have been a good card to get someone to tail Jisung, just to make sure he wasn't here to get any info on them.

Their boss was an idiot. Anyone who put Jisung on intel was wasting a lot of talent. 

And now Jisung had a fucking body to dispose of, and only ten minutes of lunch left to get it done. He also had to cover up his tracks and sort out suspicions with other people in the building.

He cussed out life in general and slung the body over his shoulder, trying to think of the easiest way to get rid of it.

"Dumpster?" he mused. Gnags could be very questionable at times, but they wouldn't have forgotten to take measures to cover up absences, what with their strict regime.