MOB TIES [taekook au]

THE ARTIST

the room was dimly lit and the artist sat with his half-empty glass of whiskey in hand. the bronze liquid danced around in its confinement as he moved his wrist in a circular motion, the liquid always almost spilling over the rim of the glass but never doing so. the sound of lashing rain was muffled by the glass panes of the window to his far left. the room was almost pin-drop silent. however, due to the fact that there was a woman sitting in the center of the room about 12 feet away from the man with duct tape covering her mouth while suppressing her screams and a rope restraining her to a wooden chair that constantly scraped the floor, it was not.

the artist seemed unbothered by her pained noises, but his annoyance was growing by the second. after what seemed like an eternity to the woman, he abruptly stood and launched his glass, the whiskey still not fully consumed, at the wall across the room from him, the glass grazing her face as it flew. he speaks lowly, as if he were growling,and slowly walked to stand in front of her while bending down to align their faces. "do you ever close your head? this must be why you're stuck on the streets, hm?" he pulled a knife out of his pocket and traced her jaw that was damp from tear as she whimpered helplessly. "i'm sure you won't be missed, you're a real bug-eyed betty anyway, sugar." he smiles jokingly, if a camera zoomed in on his face, it would see an innocent young man, a charming one at that. 

deception was a real funny concept.

she trembled before him, sweaty and shaking. he bit his cheek as she stared at him. "is there some'n you'd like to say ? if you can't tell this is sort of your 'any last words ?' scenario."he asked with a smirk lying lazily on his face. she continued to stare at him, only whimpering in response. 

his smile disappeared in a split-second and he was almost whispering, his breath hitting her face; it reeked of whiskey and he smelled of cigarettes and rain. he grabbed her by her jaw and looked her in the eye. "look, sweetie, questions call for answers." he took the knife and lowered it and relief filled her eyes and she began to sigh. just when she exhaled, a blade was pierced into her stomach, red staining her clothing while she cried. 

"i don't give second chances. mistakes are fatal." he said and paced the room. he had bought a gallon of gasoline a while ago and brought it in after immobilizing the pro-skirt. he grabbed the container and poured the gasoline on the floor in the shape of a heart. 

the artist grabbed his lighter and his pack of cigarettes. he lit a gasper, taking a long pull. he watched as the smoke collected at the ceiling of the room, waiting until the woman stopped breathing completely. he then walked over and twisted the knife out of her gut. he carved a heart onto her unmoving face to match the gasoline piece on the floor. "too bad you were ugly, we could have had some fun," he chuckled before grabbing an umbrella and going to exit the room. before he left, he threw his half smoked cigarette on the floor, lighting the gasoline heart on fire and leaving the roped up corpse to burn as well.

he got to his car, and noticed a paper on his seat. it was just after midnight and he wore a long trench coat and black gloves. he hurriedly opened the paper and read it. it read:

dear mr. jeongguk jeon, 

we've got a job for you. the completed task rewards you 7 million big ones. be there at 12 midnight tomorrow. sharp.

-jimbo

"good greif, they've gotten messy," he complained while searching for any misplaced eyes. he crumpled up the paper, took out his lighter and burned it. he lit another cigarette, got in his black wagon and drove away on that dark, wet night. the streets nearly empty.

but little did he know someone else was there, watching him from a distance, plotting his demise in the shadows of the sleeping city.