The Last Mission | Markhyuck

1.

Man is afraid of several things. Some we aren't even aware of until stuck in a situation.
Fear.

The most life-threatening and life-changing emotion. Most times, people relate fear with things; fear of the dark in your own room when you know nothing else is there.

In my mind, however, it's given to us as keeping ourselves, our loved one's safe. Don't go out after dark, don't climb too high, you'll fall and hurt yourself.

Regarding all that, there's a fear of your own kind. Something regarding, someone following you at night, someone breaking into your home, kidnapping you, killing you, or maybe even selling you. There are several cases you could find man killing his own kind, especially recently. The news reporters were muttering about one murder after another in Seoul. The job I do, it didn't even sound surprising, considering; I was one of them.

Not a murderer.

Just someone who kills.

You could be afraid of me; if you had done something, or you could feel safer as I do your dirty work.

I had only eaten two spoons of my dinner when my phone rang. Breathing a sigh of annoyance, I let it ring. It couldn't be important than food. I cursed aloud as I ate the next two bites.

'God damn it,' the chair screeched against the wooden floor as I abruptly stood up and walked to the kitchen counter where my phone rang continuously.

Xiao Ling.

'What?' set the phone on speaker and sat on the island stool, wiping mouth with a tissue.

'Pick up on the first ring, you fool,'

'I was having dinner,' reasoned, which didn't really work.

'Enough with the excuses, Mark, meet me at the bar in 10' before I could protest against the order, the line went dead.

Giving my attention back to the table, I stepped towards it, eating what I could and stepping out into the streets of Incheon.

Chinatown in Incheon was a haven for people like Xiao Ling. Smuggling yourself in. It was most impossible to hide from the Korean Government. But if you work for the mafia, they take you under their wing and guarantee your safety.

People like Xiao Ling, who had committed crimes, murdering their own family members. Made me wonder, would it be okay to call them family? But guilt leaves no soul alone. You could find yourself in the depth of it without being aware. Or you start a new life. Somewhere no one knows about you. Somewhere no one knows about your sins. No one who could accuse you of murdering. Somewhere, where there are several people like you. So you could say, at least I'm not the only one like that.

His job was to assign missions and keep up to date with what his 'henchmen's' were up to. I was nothing less, but in fact, I didn't like to think I was. I didn't work under him, rather beside the man, I had my right to deny missions I didn't want like any other.

I wasn't anything special.

Maybe more of a madman, but nothing else.

As I stepped into the suffocating basement, that most likely had never seen sunlight. My ears perked to the corner. Some idiots starting a fight that they couldn't deal without being a pussy of a sober ass. Dodging the tables to the side of the bathroom. I walked to the last room down the hall, trying to ignore the soul sitting in the corner.

Xiao Ling sat in his usual spot, feet up on the table. Exhaling the smoke of what I figured was the cigar between the fingers of the left hand. The man looked like death itself, sitting most of the day on his ass had him inhaling those death sticks. Last I remembered, it seemed he lost more of his hair.