"You're going to help me 'till you shit that shit out, understood?"
"Eat my ass and maybe you'll increase your chances of getting it sooner."
Park Jimin is a troubled teenager who steals from other people to keep himself on his own two feet. But one...
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↻ ᴠᴀɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪᴄᴋ ᴏʟᴅ ꜰᴜᴄᴋꜱ ↺
Before Jimin knows it, he's thrown into the back of what he can only assume to be a van with a brown sac pulled over his head. His breathing is shallow and sweat trickles down his body. The vehicle's movements thrum in his ears and his eyes grow heavy. He almost falls into a stupor yet the feeling of the bag being ripped off of his head causes him to stir.
"Not so pretty with a black eye, are you?"
Jimin peers up lazily, eyes meeting the man whom he had stolen from. The pain doesn't register until it's brought to his attention and he feels it hit him ten fold. He doesn't even remember being hit but maybe that's because of how hard it was.
"You're fucking stupid for multiple reasons, beautiful. Swallowing that USB comes close to first place. But messing with Starling? Boy, are you in for a treat. He'll blow your fucking brains out and cut into you just to get it back," he warns and yet Jimin can't find the energy to care. So what if he dies? It's not like anybody cares about him. He has nobody to go home to. He has nobody waiting for him to come home. Because his only home is burried deep in the ground.
"Hey," the man says and hits the side of Jimin's head, causing him to jerk. "I'm talking to you. Listen to your superior."
Jimin looks up at him, playful glint in his eyes and a teasing, lazy grin on his lips. "You were so ready for me to put you down at that club, though. Weren't you? I bet you'd love a taste of me, you sick old fuck," he spits and the man's face contorts with anger. He brings his hand up again, but before he can lower it, it's grabbed.
"That's enough, Byeong-cheol. You're not getting off any easier than he will. You were supposed to bring that USB right back to the boss as soon as you retrieved it yet you stopped at a gay club," another man says lowly from across the van, grasping Jimin's attention.
He seems rather small in stature, yet his posture exhibits the highest form of confidence intermingling with provocation. This amalgam has Jimin impressed as he can't recall the last time he's been intimidated, even to such a small extent. The man's feline shaped eyes crash into his own and pierce his irises, pressuring him to look to his thighs. However he remains stable and challenges his stare, not wanting him to know he's cracked him.
Byeong-cheol scowls and tugs his wrist out of the man's hand, dropping it to his side. He knows better than to cross a warning and so he remains silent, however his honed eyes stick to Jimin.
"Where are you taking me? Who are you people?" Jimin decides to ask seeing as he finally has the chance, struggling against the thick and rough rope that has his hands tied together behind his back.
"That's none of your concern. Your knowledge will stay limited and there's a reason for that. As soon as we get that USB drive back you're done," the man states calmly and Jimin can sense that this most likely isn't his first time kidnapping somebody.
"I think it is my fucking concern because you threw a bag over my head and shoved me into the back of a van. Not to mention my wrists are getting raw because of your poor ass rope," Jimin barks and Byeong-cheol looks ready to put him in his place, meanwhile the man with the feline eyes simply sniffs and a lopsided grin forms his lips.
"...You steal something that doesn't belong to you, swallow it, and you honestly expect us to treat you cordially? Your abysmal behaviour isn't going to get you anywhere but ten feet in the ground," the man with mint hair remarks and Jimin rolls his eyes in response to this, very quickly meeting the irate gaze of the older man sitting across from him and a little to the left. Fairly, Jimin can still feel his old calloused hands exploring his skin and he finds difficulty in recalling the last time he's been so on edge.
"If this is how it's gonna be, can you at least put the bag back on my head or put it on his until we get there? I can feel him undressing me with his eyes and--"
Before Jimin can finish his sentence, he feels those rough hands wrap around his throat, pressing, and there's nothing he can do to alleviate the pressure. Oxygen departs from his lungs and he can feel his face reddening. He's never seen such darkly lit eyes staring back at him and as Byeong-cheol proceeds to add mass, Jimin watches as the mint haired man doesn't hesitate to press a gun to his head of greying hair.
"Let him go, old man. Before I blow your brains out," he warns and his feline eyes narrow as he switches the hammer back on his Beretta 92 with his thumb.
"...You're fucking kidding me, right, Agust?" Byeong-cheol asks with a fusion of betrayal and incredulity as he pulls his hands away from Jimin's throat, and the boy begins to hack and wheeze, desperate to clutch his neck.
"No, I'm not fucking kidding you. You're a member of Starling but that doesn't mean I think of you as family. All you do is fuck shit up and the only reason you're still alive is because you're close with Starling himself. But don't get cocky with me because that won't stop me from putting a bullet through your thick skull," Agust snaps, pushing the barrel of his Beretta roughly against the man's head before he pulls it away, sticking it back in it's rightful spot on his belt.
The curses Byeong-cheol let out are like subdued thunder as he retreats to his sitting position on one of the small benches, glaring at Agust. However he soon backs down and he partakes the epitome of a scared puppy with it's tailed tucked between it's legs.
Now, despite all of Jimin's running around the streets and low-grade attitude as well as behaviour, he's never seen a gun in his life. Especially one pointed at another man's head. It sets him more off ease than he'd ever expected it would and now he begins to understand that these people aren't just some run-of-the-mill street rats. They're much more than that and perhaps their prevalence isn't to be doubted.
He finally manages to abate his breath however it's as if he can still feel the man's fingers ghosting at his neck. The sensation it leaves is caustic and Jimin nearly shatters in their presence. Yet despite his pain, and how hard it is to swallow the lump in his throat after almost being choked to non-existence, he does it because he believes he has no other choice.
"We're almost there. Put the bag back over his head," Agust demands and Byeong-cheol opens his mouth to protest yet ends up gaping like a fish as he watches the smaller man's hand travel to his gun. His feline eyes are sharp as he sends the old shit-head a pointed gaze.
"Seriously, fuck you," he curses childishly and before he reaches for the brown sac, he dives into the eighteen year old's fear filled eyes and a sadistic look overtakes his aging features.
Jimin can't find the words and if he does they die down his sore throat. Before he know it he's struck on the side of the head and everything goes black.
