HIT

12: the counter plan

Jimin was holding a knife and his hand did not shake. Yes, he remembered the pictures of that night, but it was watered-down and more like the memory of a bad dream than something that had actually happened.

"Knew it," the Hawk said flatly and left him alone with the instruction to cut the ingredients for their Kimchi stew. Jimin wanted to object and tell him that this meant nothing but that his mind was managing the trauma, but the man did not look like he was in the mood to argue. He looked like the Hawk and not like Ahn, so he decided to obey quietly.

While Jimin cut away, the other was printing something out and sticking it to the whiteboards that covered one of the apartment walls. Jimin wanted to take a look, but if he turned his head too often, he was concerned that the Hawk would call him out on it or he would cut his fingers with the knife, so he only glanced over whenever he was busy with washing his hands or the blade.

What the Hawk assembled looked like the walls his department created for active cases. Pictures of people, cars, places. Some notes Jimin would have to read later from up closer.

"What's that?" he asked although he had a very good idea what this meant.

"I have to kill this man," the Hawk replied bluntly.

Shit. Albeit Jimin had guessed as much, he did not know what an appropriate reaction to this was. What would a normal person ask? "Why?" he tried.

"Second rule: never ask why," was the answer he got.

The Hawk had to kill someone, and he had the rule never to ask why, which meant it was not his own motivation that led him to do such a violation of the law. Now every idiot must get what was going on here, so there was no need to play dumb anymore. "You're a killer," Jimin stated.

The Hawk did not even twitch, just plastered another picture on the whiteboard. "I prefer hitman," he said bored. "A killer murders whoever. I only kill for money. I do not get pleasure from it."

As weird as it should have been to talk with a murderer about semantics, it was strangely reassuring to know that the Hawk did not enjoy killing people. That the man was killing anyway was scary on another level, but Jimin would not allow himself to think that far, yet. "Is that why I'm still alive?" he asked before thinking.

His question was met with an unsettling silence before the Hawk said, "You proved that you can kill a man, too. You are not completely spineless, so I am still contemplating what to do with you. Consider it a test."

A test for what? Whether Jimin was hitman material? If the Hawk decided that he was good enough, would he become his apprentice? But what if he failed the test, what then? Then he would die. Obviously. Because that was the only logical consequence. If he was not good enough, he was deadweight, and deadweight had to be disposed of.

Unless he could be of different use. The back of his head itched at the idea of becoming the Hawk's bedwarmer, but his lower regions remembered very well which pleasure came with doing just that. It had not been bad after all. The Hawk was an excellent lover, and Jimin found himself thinking that he would do it again should the need to do so arise. He did not want to know what that said about him.

Pushing the thought away for now he focused back on the whiteboards. If the Hawk wanted to test him, he should better show that he was capable. "Who's this guy?" he wanted to know.

The hitman's lips curled into a devious smile. Jimin hated it. "Shin Taeksoo," the man answered.

"That's it?" Jimin asked with a frown. "That's all you know?"

"Why are you suddenly so interested?" the other asked mischievously, and Jimin's blood began to coil with anger. Why? This asshole was really asking why?