Kill For Me || BTS

2

"I really need to take a shit. Like, really, REALLY bad."

You grimaced at BamBam's words as he glanced left and right searching for a toilet in the casino.

"Too much information Bam. I don't need to know that." You looked at your companion with disgust and he laughed at your expression.

BamBam didn't look like an assassin. He looked like an idol, to be honest.
His hair was tousled messily(he had a horrible habit of running his hand through it every two seconds) and his lean muscles showed through the black t shirt that he wore. He was tall and had a stupid grin on his face like always, but it fit him.

He was hot.

If he wasn't the boy that I had basically grown up with since I was like 6 I would've had a crush on him, You mused to yourself as you watched BamBam's eyes light up and dash towards a toilet sign.

Despite his cute smile and innocent gaze, you knew that he was adept at killing as you were. BamBam was known for seducing his victims before brutally ripping their throat with his assortment of daggers that he kept hidden on him all the time. His kill count was almost as high as yours.

Almost.

Drunk figures bustled by you as you continued your way to the JYP base, the scent of sweat in the air.

Man, people really like to fuck each other, huh? You thought to yourself as you watched a man grope another person desperately, a bottle of liquor in his left hand. You sighed as you ducked behind the curtain of the theatre backstage, kneeling down before flipping a switch.

Stairs emerged suddenly from the floor and you walked down, the heels of your shoes clacking against the floor.

And underneath you saw the familiar rooms where you had been brought up in. A training room to your left which held all the weapons JYP trainees used, a prison to your right for torturing purposes. There weren't any prisoners at the moment, most of them had been...let's say, cleansed the day before. Other hooded figures bustled around, their faces covered in masks to hide their identities from lurking eyes or other assassins wanting to overthrow them.

One of the first lessons that you were taught.

Trust no one.

Another text sprung up on your phone now, and your face morphed into a scowl at the words.

You have 3 minutes. Hurry.

-JYP

Walking at a brisker pace you turned down the hall before reaching large, double-decked doors. They loomed over your stature and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, cleansing your mind of any emotions that you felt.

Lesson #2.

Don't show weakness, or emotion.

And you burst into the room.

Two hooded figures sat at the front of a large mahogany table that stretched across most of the meeting area. Overhead, a silver chandelier hung, swinging slightly, the lights moving back and forth in a mesmerizing way. The light was yellow and dim in the room, shining enough so that you could see anyone sitting at the table in the centre, but too dim for you to make out anything farther than that.

The hooded figure at the head of the table gestured to a seat beside him. You stared back, recognizing the dark green gaze of this man who gave you your missions.