One Task

Deal with an Angel

In a secluded warehouse nestled at the outskirts of the city, the atmosphere is eerie and desolate. The building, weathered and forgotten, stands amidst overgrown weeds and rusting containers, its windows boarded up, keeping the inside hidden from prying eyes.

Inside, dim lights flicker sporadically, casting long shadows that dance across the cold, concrete floor. The air is thick with the musty scent of neglect, punctuated occasionally by the acrid smell of oil and metal.

Stacks of crates, covered in dust and cobwebs, line the walls, concealing the illicit cargo within. The space is filled with an unsettling silence, broken only by the occasional creak of metal or the distant hum of passing vehicles. The overall vibe of this place is uninviting.

On top of one crate sat a figure. His height and distinctively lanky frame, his long brown hair tousled and dropped down his nape, long nasty scar traveled its way down to his left eye. On a single glance one can tell this person gives off a daunting aura. His choice of clothes also helped with that claim as it is shady.

However, one certain feature stood out the most from the others. An angel wings tattoo that sprawled gracefully across his neck, a stunning display of ethereal flair.

Kim Yohan, widely known as the Fallen Angel or Hell's Angel, his underground alias. An infamous name that spread throughout the heaven and hell as he wreaked havoc on the land, among the helpless people who he massacred.

He's associated with the most heinous criminal organization, and is still a member. But, the activities within the group has decreased drastically due to their missing head or leader. After the bloody war against their rivaled gang, the former leader was stripped off his position and was replaced, however the new head abandoned everything.

It affected everyone from the group as they're no longer an active gang. They no longer have an income, living became hard.

Yohan was one of the two members who never experienced that problem as he had an illegal business running. Numerous gangs scramble to find him to get a hand on weapons, a necessity in the messy underground life. Although contented with what he has now, there's still a feeling that lurked within him that craved for battle, for chaos.

Currently, he's waiting for a client, someone he knew dearly. Though growing impatient, he managed to keep his cool.

The minutes passed in a blur as he occasionally glances over his phone to check on the time, and scanning the messages for any sign of the person. Each passing moment heightened his anticipation.

Angel's now on his fourth stick of cigarette when he heard a car's engine outside. Uncertain on who the guest was since his supposed client hasn't texted yet, his hand swiftly reached for the pistol that sat beside him.

"It's probably him but I can't be too sure."

Yohan's right as everything can be unexpected. He waited for the guest to enter through the main entrance, the gun aimed right at the said entrance, waiting to keep hold of the person who's about to step in.

"Pointing a gun at me, really? I'm heartbroken..."

His hold faltered when a familiar voice was heard throughout the empty wearhouse. The guest stood firm in front of the gun's range at the distance, a brow raised in confusion. He seemed to have no fear being held at gunpoint.

"Well, that's what you get for not dropping a single text before pulling up. You know how it is around these parts of the city," Yohan reprimanded the newcomer before lowering his gun down and finally putting it aside.

A faint rush of relief washed over Yohan as he stared at the figure who stepped into the wide space of the abandoned warehouse. A small smile crept onto his face as his anticipation fulfilled.