In a city that never sleeps and always rains, The Flaming Four are the reason for locked doors and untrusting eyes. They're a group of hitmen, infamous for deaths all around the city. It's the fear they stir up that starts a long war between them an...
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F O U R 🎧▷ fairy of shampoo - dosii "you quietly approached me stepping through the square screen planting a silvery illusion"
In the next two weeks, The Flaming Four would have killed nine more people. There was always a debate about whether or not these victims were bad people who deserved their brutal deaths, but it always lasted seconds. It didn't really matter all too much in the end. They were still lives lost. Souls to be mourned.
Jungkook understood this, of course. His morality couldn't accept anything less. Every case file he read at his desk, every story and background and life typed onto paper, was another reminder that just because someone wanted them dead, it didn't make these victims any less loved, as they probably were.
The Flaming Four were killing fathers, mothers, teachers. They were killing nephews and sisters and friends. Humans who would come home every night to something or someone. Jungkook looked past the potential reasons life was stripped from them—like maybe someone was in debt for far too long and someone else hired the hitmen to decide their fate, or maybe someone knew too much about something they weren't supposed to and was murdered to secure their silence.
Whatever it was didn't matter. To decide the fate of a life was not the job of a human. No mortal could decide when another should die. That choice was given to whatever God you believed in and only them.
Jungkook read the obituaries in the newspapers strewed across his desk that morning, each death piling up on him and causing his shoulders to sag. With the weight of his girlfriend leaving him, the death count piling up, and the terrifying undercover position he was putting himself in, he was stressed.
It was evident in his shoulders, in the way the trash bin nearest to his desk was nearly filled to the brim with empty paper cups, the remnants of stale coffee staining the white edges.
Phones rang from different desks; worried family members sat in chairs, waiting for answers from anyone available; coffee machines and printing machines whirred with life; shouts of anger and accusation came from the hallway. The elevator dung, the blinds get pulled open, the taptap of shoes on the polished floors echoed in brisk and sluggish paces.
The noises didn't fade out in his mind, not like he wished they did when he was so engulfed in his own head. Instead, they drowned him, each sound pushing itself closer and closer into his space, leaving him with nothing but the overbearing feeling of being crushed within the chaos.
Jungkook ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against his chair. Yeonjun was at his desk across from him, typing up a report from the arrest he made a couple days ago. He was out to dinner with some of his friends from university, and some drunk foreigner was getting too aggressive in public. It was not pretty.
