At Gunpoint 1/10
Title: At Gunpoint 1/10
Pairing: Jonghyun/Key
Genre: AU
Rating: PG for this chapter
Summary: Jonghyun takes a break from work for a little less than two months. He lets himself calm down; spends his savings on weapons and ammunition.
A/N: Here it is! Takes place after Contact Shot; I'd recommend reading that one first. It's practically finished and I'll be posting weekly. Hope you enjoy! ♥
Jonghyun takes a break from work for a little less than two months. He lets himself calm down; spends his savings on weapons and ammunition.
It's only in the middle of June, on a busy night in Seoul that he feels the familiar thrill building up inside him. The motorbike between his legs roars as he speeds down towards the intersection, and his blood starts humming in his veins. The GPS system installed in his helmet informs him that he's still about three kilometres away from his destination. He stops at a red traffic light, feet coming down to support himself as he waits.
It's dark and only a little chilly, but he can't really get himself to care. So he just absentmindedly watches as the street lights reflect on the cold surface of his black bike, shiny and smooth like the first moment he saw it. His vision is filled with bright green some long seconds later, and he doesn't miss a beat before getting on the move again.
Merely ten minutes later, he's parking his bike at the private lot right behind some upper-class bar in the heart of the city. Hanging his helmet by the handlebars, he smoothly snaps his head to the side, blond bags brushing by his eyebrows, and heads towards the building entrance.
The only thing he sees when he gets in -no surprise, to be honest- is businessmen. Fancy businessmen with their fancy young wives and their fancy drinks. He manages to keep his expression composed as he walks over to the reception.
"Good evening, sir," the petite female behind the podium greets with a smile, which only falters a little as she takes in his appearance. Flashy hair accompanied by leather jackets, dark jeans and boots probably do not belong to the dress code in here. Who cares. "Do you have a reservation?"
"I'm here with Park Sukyong, actually," he replies and her eyes scan some list in front of her for the briefest of seconds.
"Of course," she smiles, albeit a little plastically, and gets ahead of him, saying, "Right over here."
Jonghyun is led towards the depths of the building, walking past tables, black leather couches, and conversations. Hadn't he learned how to pick up subtle sounds, he wouldn't even be able to make out mere words. But the background music is able to mask sentences, despite being velvety, and Jonghyun can see why this place would be the guy's preference.
Soon enough, the girl comes to a halt mere meters from what seems to be the very end of the club. Her hands gesture towards a booth in the corner. "Here you are," she announces and Jonghyun steps forward, taking in the occupant.
There he is, in all his glory and expensive suit - one of the two most successful businessmen of the year. Hotel-owning, cash-collecting, lady-killing Park Sukyong.
Jonghyun greets him the way one would greet a good friend, and feels the girl fix him with a slightly wary stare. He sits right opposite him.
"Could I bring you something to drink?" she addresses the blond, but he dismisses her with a hand.
"I'll have some of this," he points at the bottle of whiskey and the empty glass in front of him. To be honest, he won't even touch it.
And with that she leaves, allowing Jonghyun to be amused at the familiar setting. Rich customers always ask for meetings in places where they fit in; where they feel comfortable. In most cases, bars just like this one.
"Well," the man starts, his glasses perched on his pointy nose and his eyes barely betraying that he's in his fifties already. "I'm glad you showed up."
"Wouldn't miss it," he responds and sits back casually, but decides to cut to the chase. "Who are we targeting?"
There's a tiny pause. "Kim Sanghwan," the man simply says, right hand digging into his breast pocket and taking out a picture. He slides the object towards Jonghyun's side of the table, and the latter is satisfied. He likes customers that pay attention to what he asks for.
His eyes fall on the man in the photograph, probably in his mid-forties but balding already. The picture is obviously taken secretly. The quality is professional. This wasn't a last-minute decision.
"Forty-seven, co-owner of the Empire Arms Hotel - along with me." He leans in, elbows apart and hands set on the table, fingers lacing together. Jonghyun lets his back rest against the booth and just listens. "He resides in the second to last floor of the building, right beneath my own suite. Neither of us has a heir, so the one that goes first, leaves his own half to the one that survives," he stops to sigh.
"But?" Jonghyun asks, already getting the gist of this.
"But, somehow, this nephew of his has come into play. We haven't been on the best of terms lately, but I have found out he's been consulting his lawyer a lot the past days," he says and reaches for his glass of whiskey, sipping before he continues. "I want him out before he manages to set that kid as his heir in his will." Because it's obvious that I can predict when that day comes. Right.
Jonghyun nods whatsoever. He looks at the picture on the table once more, at the man holding his briefcase while the wind blows at his coat. Sure, he could just off the nephew and be over with it, but the guy seems to have something personal against the other co-owner. Sucks, how relationships that start out great end up with one of them plotting the other's death. But then again, people like Jonghyun wouldn't have a job, if it wasn't so.
He knows this kind of situation all too well; it's mostly cases like this that he feeds on. Partners set a deal, they struggle, they make money. Then, the individuals become arrogant, they get greedy, greedier, and they fight with subtlety. And then, one of them has to go. He's witnessed far too many relationships go to hell just like this one to feel sympathy any more. It's just business, to him.
"I'll need authorised access to his room at all times. Furthermore, access to his meals," he curls his thumb into his palm, counting, "an overview of his medical history," he covers his thumb with his pointer, "and a room of my own, as near to the top floors as possible," he finishes, with his middle finger joining the other two, on the centre of his palm.
The man studies him.
"In other words, I'll be the favour you'll be doing to that relative of yours outside of Seoul, by taking in her son and offering him a position with generous tips. You owe her, anyway."
He nods, obviously calculating everything in his head. "I do not want anyone getting any suspicions this is more than an accident," he says, only pausing when a couple from a nearby booth stands up and walks away. "Understand that?"
Jonghyun half-smiles. "I assure you that won't happen."
"Good," he responds, reaching for the wallet in the pockets of his slacks, eyes stopping on Jonghyun briefly, as he makes a realisation.
"My reward will be discussed over, later on," he answers to an unspoken question. The blond watches as the man takes out a few bills, leaving them on the table. Jonghyun wouldn't really know, but he guesses they're more than enough to pay for the drink, probably bravely tipping the waitress.
"Well then, you're starting Monday, after I set a few things up," he says while getting up.
"Of course, sir," Jonghyun nods.
He receives a mouthed great, before the man turns around, only to come back and cock his head. "And you may want to do something about that hair of yours. It's too - too flamboyant," he adds as an afterthought.
Jonghyun snorts on the inside, but doesn't let the displease show. "Of course, sir," he repeats and watches as the man blinks, turns, and leaves. Jonghyun lets his head loll in all directions, feeling his bones pop in satisfaction.
His brain is already musing over the endless possibilities and scenarios; the multiple choices. His hands are itching. His blood is still buzzing. It's good. It's good to be back.
→previous. next.
Pairing: Jonghyun/Key
Genre: AU
Rating: PG for this chapter
Summary: Jonghyun takes a break from work for a little less than two months. He lets himself calm down; spends his savings on weapons and ammunition.
A/N: Here it is! Takes place after Contact Shot; I'd recommend reading that one first. It's practically finished and I'll be posting weekly. Hope you enjoy! ♥
Jonghyun takes a break from work for a little less than two months. He lets himself calm down; spends his savings on weapons and ammunition.
It's only in the middle of June, on a busy night in Seoul that he feels the familiar thrill building up inside him. The motorbike between his legs roars as he speeds down towards the intersection, and his blood starts humming in his veins. The GPS system installed in his helmet informs him that he's still about three kilometres away from his destination. He stops at a red traffic light, feet coming down to support himself as he waits.
It's dark and only a little chilly, but he can't really get himself to care. So he just absentmindedly watches as the street lights reflect on the cold surface of his black bike, shiny and smooth like the first moment he saw it. His vision is filled with bright green some long seconds later, and he doesn't miss a beat before getting on the move again.
Merely ten minutes later, he's parking his bike at the private lot right behind some upper-class bar in the heart of the city. Hanging his helmet by the handlebars, he smoothly snaps his head to the side, blond bags brushing by his eyebrows, and heads towards the building entrance.
The only thing he sees when he gets in -no surprise, to be honest- is businessmen. Fancy businessmen with their fancy young wives and their fancy drinks. He manages to keep his expression composed as he walks over to the reception.
"Good evening, sir," the petite female behind the podium greets with a smile, which only falters a little as she takes in his appearance. Flashy hair accompanied by leather jackets, dark jeans and boots probably do not belong to the dress code in here. Who cares. "Do you have a reservation?"
"I'm here with Park Sukyong, actually," he replies and her eyes scan some list in front of her for the briefest of seconds.
"Of course," she smiles, albeit a little plastically, and gets ahead of him, saying, "Right over here."
Jonghyun is led towards the depths of the building, walking past tables, black leather couches, and conversations. Hadn't he learned how to pick up subtle sounds, he wouldn't even be able to make out mere words. But the background music is able to mask sentences, despite being velvety, and Jonghyun can see why this place would be the guy's preference.
Soon enough, the girl comes to a halt mere meters from what seems to be the very end of the club. Her hands gesture towards a booth in the corner. "Here you are," she announces and Jonghyun steps forward, taking in the occupant.
There he is, in all his glory and expensive suit - one of the two most successful businessmen of the year. Hotel-owning, cash-collecting, lady-killing Park Sukyong.
Jonghyun greets him the way one would greet a good friend, and feels the girl fix him with a slightly wary stare. He sits right opposite him.
"Could I bring you something to drink?" she addresses the blond, but he dismisses her with a hand.
"I'll have some of this," he points at the bottle of whiskey and the empty glass in front of him. To be honest, he won't even touch it.
And with that she leaves, allowing Jonghyun to be amused at the familiar setting. Rich customers always ask for meetings in places where they fit in; where they feel comfortable. In most cases, bars just like this one.
"Well," the man starts, his glasses perched on his pointy nose and his eyes barely betraying that he's in his fifties already. "I'm glad you showed up."
"Wouldn't miss it," he responds and sits back casually, but decides to cut to the chase. "Who are we targeting?"
There's a tiny pause. "Kim Sanghwan," the man simply says, right hand digging into his breast pocket and taking out a picture. He slides the object towards Jonghyun's side of the table, and the latter is satisfied. He likes customers that pay attention to what he asks for.
His eyes fall on the man in the photograph, probably in his mid-forties but balding already. The picture is obviously taken secretly. The quality is professional. This wasn't a last-minute decision.
"Forty-seven, co-owner of the Empire Arms Hotel - along with me." He leans in, elbows apart and hands set on the table, fingers lacing together. Jonghyun lets his back rest against the booth and just listens. "He resides in the second to last floor of the building, right beneath my own suite. Neither of us has a heir, so the one that goes first, leaves his own half to the one that survives," he stops to sigh.
"But?" Jonghyun asks, already getting the gist of this.
"But, somehow, this nephew of his has come into play. We haven't been on the best of terms lately, but I have found out he's been consulting his lawyer a lot the past days," he says and reaches for his glass of whiskey, sipping before he continues. "I want him out before he manages to set that kid as his heir in his will." Because it's obvious that I can predict when that day comes. Right.
Jonghyun nods whatsoever. He looks at the picture on the table once more, at the man holding his briefcase while the wind blows at his coat. Sure, he could just off the nephew and be over with it, but the guy seems to have something personal against the other co-owner. Sucks, how relationships that start out great end up with one of them plotting the other's death. But then again, people like Jonghyun wouldn't have a job, if it wasn't so.
He knows this kind of situation all too well; it's mostly cases like this that he feeds on. Partners set a deal, they struggle, they make money. Then, the individuals become arrogant, they get greedy, greedier, and they fight with subtlety. And then, one of them has to go. He's witnessed far too many relationships go to hell just like this one to feel sympathy any more. It's just business, to him.
"I'll need authorised access to his room at all times. Furthermore, access to his meals," he curls his thumb into his palm, counting, "an overview of his medical history," he covers his thumb with his pointer, "and a room of my own, as near to the top floors as possible," he finishes, with his middle finger joining the other two, on the centre of his palm.
The man studies him.
"In other words, I'll be the favour you'll be doing to that relative of yours outside of Seoul, by taking in her son and offering him a position with generous tips. You owe her, anyway."
He nods, obviously calculating everything in his head. "I do not want anyone getting any suspicions this is more than an accident," he says, only pausing when a couple from a nearby booth stands up and walks away. "Understand that?"
Jonghyun half-smiles. "I assure you that won't happen."
"Good," he responds, reaching for the wallet in the pockets of his slacks, eyes stopping on Jonghyun briefly, as he makes a realisation.
"My reward will be discussed over, later on," he answers to an unspoken question. The blond watches as the man takes out a few bills, leaving them on the table. Jonghyun wouldn't really know, but he guesses they're more than enough to pay for the drink, probably bravely tipping the waitress.
"Well then, you're starting Monday, after I set a few things up," he says while getting up.
"Of course, sir," Jonghyun nods.
He receives a mouthed great, before the man turns around, only to come back and cock his head. "And you may want to do something about that hair of yours. It's too - too flamboyant," he adds as an afterthought.
Jonghyun snorts on the inside, but doesn't let the displease show. "Of course, sir," he repeats and watches as the man blinks, turns, and leaves. Jonghyun lets his head loll in all directions, feeling his bones pop in satisfaction.
His brain is already musing over the endless possibilities and scenarios; the multiple choices. His hands are itching. His blood is still buzzing. It's good. It's good to be back.
→previous. next.