ONE [TW]

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A/N: Picture above ain't mine. Credit goes to rightful owners.

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Three years ago

It was almost midnight. He ran through the maze of buildings with his injured hand. The sky rumbled and heavy rain came pouring down. Water splashed as he ran across the dark alleys of the city. Even though blood was oozing out at a faster rate from his wound, he continued to run as he had no other alternative. It was a complete do or die situation.

"There he is! Let's go." Two men armed with guns and in black trench coats charged at the escapee. But who were those men? And why were they chasing him?

The runaway being swifter took a left turn and hid in the alley. He was exhausted as well as dizzy. His face contorted at the excruciating pain as he gripped his injured arm to stop the bleeding. He was shot by those men and he very well knew why he was being chased. Crime is naught but misdirected energy and now he had to utilize the energy left in him to escape from the world of darkness or at least he could hope so. It's like a one-way ticket to the deepest pits of hell.

The man was taking deep breaths to keep him stable as he could collapse any moment. He could clearly hear their footsteps. He must remain inconspicuous if he wanted to get out of this hell hole alive.

"Where the fuck did he go?" One of them growled. "Boss would fucking kill us if we don't kill him."

"I think he is nearby. He is injured, he can't go much further."

When the escapee heard their footsteps fading away, he came out of his hideout only to be faced by those two, hefty, hooded armed men.

Crap! Wrong move.

"My my, who do we see, huh?" One of them smirked which the runaway noticed as lightning flashed across the dark sky.

To say that the man was frightened would be an understatement. He was once an assassin himself. To be honest, a deadly and ruthless assassin, who wouldn't think twice before murdering someone. To him, his boss' orders were was everything. But now look at his own fate. It seems that his luck was laughing at him. It must have been the curses of all those poor souls that he had murdered once upon a time. For the first time ever, he pitied himself, felt sorry for himself.

"You exactly know what price you pay for betraying boss Choi, right?"

Those men, with whom he used to work for his boss, with whom he executed his boss' plans are now out to execute him. In the world of crime and darkness, you have no friends. They are nothing but puppets in the hands of their chief. Once you bid your soul to the devil, there's no turning back. One is ought to be loyal to his boss in every moment of his life. If anyone betrayed or if his loyalty shrunk by a fraction, he even wouldn't get a chance to justify himself. It's like a guillotine hanging above one's head. One wrong step and it would fall straight on your neck, sealing your fate.

The terrified man took a step back. The slightest hint of escaping dared to cross his mind. As he turned around, a steel rod was swung on his head, causing him to groan and collapse on the drenched road.

He held his bleeding head, groaning in immense pain. He tried to get up but failed miserably. His vision had already begun to dwindle. The injured man blinked his eyes several times to see those armed men laughing demonically at him. Just then, one of them got a call.

"Yes, boss?"

"Finish him off quickly and send me a picture of his dead body. I want a confirmation of his death."

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