The Killer's Nightmare - Chapter 3
Jaejoong/Yunho, Yoochun/Junsu
The ultimate killer he is, but what is it that haunts him so?
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The Killer’s Nightmare: Chapter 3
Number 43 was a distant position he held for maybe a week, but as the weeks passed into months, he was now ranked 10 in the organization. Nicknamed Morte, Italian for death, number 10 was pleased with his progress. Taking lives was hard at first, something he never knew he would - could - commit, but Morte soon found it as a way of channeling his anger. One that was effective like no other.
These few months had been tough, but Morte realised it was easier than he thought. He even enjoyed this new career, this new life that was thrust upon him when Park Yoochun dragged him to the headquarters.
As soon as he heard the door adjacent to his shut close, Morte moved to wash away his glass of milk, before wiping everything clean and dry. It was one of his few habits, being the clean freak that he was. Then, sliding open one of the drawers that housed his many weapons, he picked out a couple of scalpels.
Before leaving, Morte took a last glance around his room, taking in every detail of his space. Just in case someone decides to visit without notice, he would know.
Satisfied, he turned on his heels and headed next door.
Number 9 was going down.
Pitter, patter.
Water dripped from the sides of Jaejoong’s face as he positioned his hands on either side of the sink, heaving a great sigh. He had just been assigned a new run upon his full recovery from the assassination of Jung Joomin months before.
There was only one thing: he couldn’t find his dagger. Not the mediocre little ones that he always used, but that one dagger that he’d kill to get back.
Ironically, though the dagger constantly pricked him through the layers of his clothing, Jaejoong felt more pain without it right against his heart.
He had asked both Yoochun and Junsu, but neither of the two had seen it after picking him up at Chambers. Jaejoong would have returned to Chambers to retrieve it, but after lapsing into the semi-coma, he had problems recalling what actually happened that day - he didn’t know if he wore any sort of disguise, he wasn’t sure if he killed everyone, and if he did not, he didn’t know if the ones left were vengeful.
Most importantly, he couldn’t find out because his body was too weak.
All that was left in his memory were bits and pieces, where he played the guise of a cook and his employer was a nice man named Jung Yunho.
His friends could only tell him that Jung Joomin was dead.
Landing his fist on the porcelain sink, Jaejoong hissed in frustration. He stared at the man in the mirror, the man with large angry eyes adorning his face. His newly dyed hair made him look paler than usual, its platinum blond colour standing out in every crowd.
His change of appearance begun with an initial fear, a precautionary measure Jaejoong had taken in his early days. After every completed run, he would dye his hair; put on glasses… he would embrace every minor little change he could manage. But when all that seemed unnecessary as he grew indifferent to the nature his job, the habit had already stuck.
“Aish, what have I become?”
Leaving the bathroom, Jaejoong rubbed some warmth into his cheek. His new target was a promising politician in his prime, surprisingly uncorrupted and down-to-earth from what Jaejoong had collated. His only flaw was probably a bad clubbing habit. The man who wanted him dead?
Jaejoong had no doubt that the client was a losing rival in the dangerous game of politics, the battlefield that even he himself wouldn’t dabble in.
Can’t beat him? Kill him. Easy peasy.
The stranger had the attention of every pair of eyes there could possibly be in the club, compelling everyone to stare at his body and watch him move to the music. Though his actions were large, he managed to keep them swift and impossibly smooth.
Every move he pulled off seemed to be accompanied with a shadow of masculinity and style while his charismatic expressions reflected the exact feelings his dance evoked; confidence and passion edged with a tinge of arrogance.
He was a fabulous dancer, hands down.
“Hyung, did you see that?” Yoochun exclaimed but turned around to an empty seat across him that Jaejoong had previously occupied. Brows raised in question, he turned to speak with the Junsu on his right, but stopped once he saw what the other was doing.
The younger man was playing with the umbrella decoration from the cocktail, lost in his own world.
His hood covered him pretty well as he moved onto the centre of the dance floor, but a few strands of his striking blond hair could be seen from the dark garment that was hiding his face. Though his moves were smaller and softer compared to the exaggerated ones of Yunho, the man’s shapely figure could be made out from the tight fitting clothes revealed from beneath the unzipped jacket.
The stranger seemed oblivious to the crowd as he swayed his hips to the pulsing rhythm of the music. Every step he took was smooth as silk; just enough to carry out the dance routine, nothing extra, nothing elaborate. The immaculate dance routine was carried out with the small movements and such smoothness that the dancer looked almost…graceful.
Strangely, even though it highly contrasted with his own style, Yunho liked that.
With the two of them standing in the middle of the circular crowd, Yunho responded to the other man's unspoken dance challenge, moving closer to him in his professional slide. Both of them were getting drowned by the blasting music and the loud cheers of the people but neither seemed to care.
Moving his limbs in a series of fluid movements, his opponent glided effortlessly around him in retort, earning even louder cheers from the crowd. Yunho smirked, his expression changing from his previous seriousness to a cheeky and mischievous grin. He was obviously enjoying himself with the challenge.
Flashing lights darted about the club every second, illuminating bright colours onto the numerous bodies on the otherwise pitch-black dance floor while pounding music blasted overhead, its rhythm pumping adrenaline into the crowd. Mystery and curiosity overwhelmed Yunho as the lights hit his opponent, shining random sparks on his figure.
He had unknowingly developed a strong desire to know who the other was.
Yunho took a step towards the opponent, his demeanor cool, and begun another amazing routine before ending it with a handstand. As he kept his body a strict perpendicular to the ground, Yunho stole a glance at the man in front of him with his vision inverted. The stranger was smirking.
Déjà vu smacked him the face but while caught in his reverie, Yunho felt his blood succumbing to gravity and his head suddenly felt like it might explode. Snapping back to reality, he quickly let himself upright again.
Where have I seen you before?
The crowd was high and cheering as the victor of the challenge proved himself with the flawless handstand, his perfect balance kept till the end. Jaejoong watched Yunho walk away from the dance floor and later returned to the booth where Yoochun and Junsu occupied, plopping down onto the comfortable velvet seats.
“Who was that?” Yoochun said, eyes pointing to the dance floor Jaejoong had just returned from. The latter shrugged, taking a long swig at his drink.
“Some guy I met from Chambers, I think. He’s about the only memory I have left from that run,” said Jaejoong while he tilted his head back, resting his neck on the curve of the sofa.
He had recognized Yunho at first sight - his masculine face had somehow become a significant part of his memory. After checking that no one was anywhere near their booth, Jaejoong removed the gun from his LV and began loading the magazine.
Yoochun turned away from his small talk with Junsu when one of the bullets rolled to the side of his thigh. He picked it up, and fingered the smooth metallic sides of it for a moment.
“You’re going to just shoot him off like that? With all these people?” he asked, returning the shiny bullet back to Jaejoong.
The blond nodded lazily after the last bullet was in place. Yoochun shook his head, dismayed by Jaejoong’s recklessness. He did not object to it, however.
Jaejoong surveyed the room in search for his target, finding him quickly while he was somewhat dancing with women an entire head taller than he was. It seemed like his businessmen friends were all doing the same, all of them unwinding after a long day of work.
Jaejoong fixed the silencer on.
He lifted the pistol and got himself a clear aim, ready to blow the man’s brain out.
No room for mistakes.
Yunho tailed the hooded man with his eyes, staring at him move from the dance floor to the booth where two other men sat. He took another swig of alcohol from the glass, feeling the cold liquid gush down his throat. His stomach buzzed in reaction. The strange man spoke a few words, and removed something from the large tote resting on the seats.
It was a Glock.
Yunho’s eyes widened at first sight of the pistol, and his mouth later opened into an ‘O’ when he finally got the picture. So the other was an assassin, and had just located his target. Yunho watched the blond scan through the crowd again.
Interest piqued, he strained his ears for the slightest sound of a gunshot. Bang. With the loud pounding music dominating the ears of most people, the silenced gunshot was almost inaudible, but Yunho had caught the almost in his ears.
Screams followed and Yunho knew at once that the blond’s target had been taken down.
Just as the killer flipped his head to the side when he stood up to leave, a significant sharp glint of light flickered. A wave of recognition surged through Yunho before he got up in an instant and strode out the club.
Something about the stranger’s earrings had stirred him.
Kim Jaejoong’s earrings.
Jaejoong grabbed his bag and left the club as soon as he could. Anxious to get a good night of sleep, he meandered out of the club where he knew Junsu’s car would be waiting. He walked fast, knowing never to run because it always attracted undue attention, and ultimately someone might chase after.
A few steps out into the night and he was immediately choked by an arm that hooked itself around his neck from behind.
“Jaejoong.”
He tensed up, instantly recognizing the velvety voice that he knew belonged to Jung Yunho. He recognized me too?
Jaejoong turned around to face him, unafraid of the threatening weapon at his neck because his revolver was already steadied against the other man’s shirt.
Two lethal killers against each other - one with a dagger more trenchant than any other positioned at one’s vital carotid arteries, the other with an equally dangerous semi-automatic revolver pointing at his abdomen.
“I’d already wounded you there before but it seems to be healing well, Jung Yunho,” said Jaejoong, nudging the gun against Yunho’s flesh. The latter smirked, well aware that his wound had completely healed since their first rendezvous six months ago.
“Fast, aren’t you?” Yunho pressed the flat side of the dagger against Jaejoong’s skin harmlessly. “We have some unfinished business, I believe, though I really don’t understand why you’re alive. Were you looking for this, by any chance?”
They couldn’t see each other in the darkness but only a glimpse or two when the headlights of each passing car flickered spots of light on their faces. Jaejoong squinted to see what Yunho was referring to, and his heart sank when his eyes dropped to his neck.
It was his dagger, the one he lost and was trying to get back. He gritted his teeth and spoke, the usual alto voice of his lowered to a grave pitch. “What do you want?”
“…Cooking lessons.” Yunho seemed to come up with the answer on the spot.
“Wh - what did you say?” Jaejoong couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“I said, I wanted cook lessons,” Yunho repeated, but Jaejoong was still in disbelief. Then, Yunho offered that he’d return the dagger, and the Porsche. And anything else Jaejoong wanted.
Jaejoong, however, did not buy it. He nudged the revolver harder into Yunho’s stomach.
“Are you bloody out of your mind?” he spat, not amused.
When Yunho refused to answer, Jaejoong said again, “Look. There are many better chefs out there so why don’t you just hire them and return me my dagger? You can keep the car, just give me the dagger. Please.”
The dark alley was suddenly lit up by the headlights of a car, the rumbling of its engine preventing any further talk.
“Finally,” Jaejoong muttered under his breath.
“Till next time, Mr. Kim,” Yunho whispered into Jaejoong’s ears, tickling the other’s skin with his words. Distracted for a second, Jaejoong pulled the trigger a little too late, only to hear the empty clank of the bullet striking against the opposite wall.
Yunho had already disappeared into the shadows.
“Why… were you shooting at a wall in the dark?” Yoochun asked after a long while into the drive. Jaejoong had entered the BMW fuming - Junsu and he had not dared to speak.
“There was a man in front of me a second before I fired, that’s why.”
Yoochun and Junsu faced each other, not fully comprehending the situation. “So you were intending to kill the guy?”
“No I wasn’t, I was just practicing my aim with the brick wall in the middle of the night,” Jaejoong rolled his eyes, irritated, and tapped his fingers by the side of the window.
“Very funny. But it’s rare how someone could surpass your speed. Who was he?” Yoochun commented thoughtfully, turning behind to catch his reaction.
Jaejoong got insulted slightly, not pleased at all by how Yunho did manage to elude him. “Same guy you two saw on the dance floor. From Chambers. His name is Jung Yunho.”
A long pause passed as Jaejoong’s eyes became vacant. “He has my dagger.”
In front of him, Junsu and Yoochun shared an eye contact. Then, asked Junsu from behind the wheel, “Hyung, just what did he want?”
“Cooking lessons.”
The ultimate killer he is, but what is it that haunts him so?
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The Killer’s Nightmare: Chapter 3
Number 43 was a distant position he held for maybe a week, but as the weeks passed into months, he was now ranked 10 in the organization. Nicknamed Morte, Italian for death, number 10 was pleased with his progress. Taking lives was hard at first, something he never knew he would - could - commit, but Morte soon found it as a way of channeling his anger. One that was effective like no other.
These few months had been tough, but Morte realised it was easier than he thought. He even enjoyed this new career, this new life that was thrust upon him when Park Yoochun dragged him to the headquarters.
As soon as he heard the door adjacent to his shut close, Morte moved to wash away his glass of milk, before wiping everything clean and dry. It was one of his few habits, being the clean freak that he was. Then, sliding open one of the drawers that housed his many weapons, he picked out a couple of scalpels.
Before leaving, Morte took a last glance around his room, taking in every detail of his space. Just in case someone decides to visit without notice, he would know.
Satisfied, he turned on his heels and headed next door.
Number 9 was going down.
Pitter, patter.
Water dripped from the sides of Jaejoong’s face as he positioned his hands on either side of the sink, heaving a great sigh. He had just been assigned a new run upon his full recovery from the assassination of Jung Joomin months before.
There was only one thing: he couldn’t find his dagger. Not the mediocre little ones that he always used, but that one dagger that he’d kill to get back.
Ironically, though the dagger constantly pricked him through the layers of his clothing, Jaejoong felt more pain without it right against his heart.
He had asked both Yoochun and Junsu, but neither of the two had seen it after picking him up at Chambers. Jaejoong would have returned to Chambers to retrieve it, but after lapsing into the semi-coma, he had problems recalling what actually happened that day - he didn’t know if he wore any sort of disguise, he wasn’t sure if he killed everyone, and if he did not, he didn’t know if the ones left were vengeful.
Most importantly, he couldn’t find out because his body was too weak.
All that was left in his memory were bits and pieces, where he played the guise of a cook and his employer was a nice man named Jung Yunho.
His friends could only tell him that Jung Joomin was dead.
Landing his fist on the porcelain sink, Jaejoong hissed in frustration. He stared at the man in the mirror, the man with large angry eyes adorning his face. His newly dyed hair made him look paler than usual, its platinum blond colour standing out in every crowd.
His change of appearance begun with an initial fear, a precautionary measure Jaejoong had taken in his early days. After every completed run, he would dye his hair; put on glasses… he would embrace every minor little change he could manage. But when all that seemed unnecessary as he grew indifferent to the nature his job, the habit had already stuck.
“Aish, what have I become?”
Leaving the bathroom, Jaejoong rubbed some warmth into his cheek. His new target was a promising politician in his prime, surprisingly uncorrupted and down-to-earth from what Jaejoong had collated. His only flaw was probably a bad clubbing habit. The man who wanted him dead?
Jaejoong had no doubt that the client was a losing rival in the dangerous game of politics, the battlefield that even he himself wouldn’t dabble in.
Can’t beat him? Kill him. Easy peasy.
The stranger had the attention of every pair of eyes there could possibly be in the club, compelling everyone to stare at his body and watch him move to the music. Though his actions were large, he managed to keep them swift and impossibly smooth.
Every move he pulled off seemed to be accompanied with a shadow of masculinity and style while his charismatic expressions reflected the exact feelings his dance evoked; confidence and passion edged with a tinge of arrogance.
He was a fabulous dancer, hands down.
“Hyung, did you see that?” Yoochun exclaimed but turned around to an empty seat across him that Jaejoong had previously occupied. Brows raised in question, he turned to speak with the Junsu on his right, but stopped once he saw what the other was doing.
The younger man was playing with the umbrella decoration from the cocktail, lost in his own world.
His hood covered him pretty well as he moved onto the centre of the dance floor, but a few strands of his striking blond hair could be seen from the dark garment that was hiding his face. Though his moves were smaller and softer compared to the exaggerated ones of Yunho, the man’s shapely figure could be made out from the tight fitting clothes revealed from beneath the unzipped jacket.
The stranger seemed oblivious to the crowd as he swayed his hips to the pulsing rhythm of the music. Every step he took was smooth as silk; just enough to carry out the dance routine, nothing extra, nothing elaborate. The immaculate dance routine was carried out with the small movements and such smoothness that the dancer looked almost…graceful.
Strangely, even though it highly contrasted with his own style, Yunho liked that.
With the two of them standing in the middle of the circular crowd, Yunho responded to the other man's unspoken dance challenge, moving closer to him in his professional slide. Both of them were getting drowned by the blasting music and the loud cheers of the people but neither seemed to care.
Moving his limbs in a series of fluid movements, his opponent glided effortlessly around him in retort, earning even louder cheers from the crowd. Yunho smirked, his expression changing from his previous seriousness to a cheeky and mischievous grin. He was obviously enjoying himself with the challenge.
Flashing lights darted about the club every second, illuminating bright colours onto the numerous bodies on the otherwise pitch-black dance floor while pounding music blasted overhead, its rhythm pumping adrenaline into the crowd. Mystery and curiosity overwhelmed Yunho as the lights hit his opponent, shining random sparks on his figure.
He had unknowingly developed a strong desire to know who the other was.
Yunho took a step towards the opponent, his demeanor cool, and begun another amazing routine before ending it with a handstand. As he kept his body a strict perpendicular to the ground, Yunho stole a glance at the man in front of him with his vision inverted. The stranger was smirking.
Déjà vu smacked him the face but while caught in his reverie, Yunho felt his blood succumbing to gravity and his head suddenly felt like it might explode. Snapping back to reality, he quickly let himself upright again.
Where have I seen you before?
The crowd was high and cheering as the victor of the challenge proved himself with the flawless handstand, his perfect balance kept till the end. Jaejoong watched Yunho walk away from the dance floor and later returned to the booth where Yoochun and Junsu occupied, plopping down onto the comfortable velvet seats.
“Who was that?” Yoochun said, eyes pointing to the dance floor Jaejoong had just returned from. The latter shrugged, taking a long swig at his drink.
“Some guy I met from Chambers, I think. He’s about the only memory I have left from that run,” said Jaejoong while he tilted his head back, resting his neck on the curve of the sofa.
He had recognized Yunho at first sight - his masculine face had somehow become a significant part of his memory. After checking that no one was anywhere near their booth, Jaejoong removed the gun from his LV and began loading the magazine.
Yoochun turned away from his small talk with Junsu when one of the bullets rolled to the side of his thigh. He picked it up, and fingered the smooth metallic sides of it for a moment.
“You’re going to just shoot him off like that? With all these people?” he asked, returning the shiny bullet back to Jaejoong.
The blond nodded lazily after the last bullet was in place. Yoochun shook his head, dismayed by Jaejoong’s recklessness. He did not object to it, however.
Jaejoong surveyed the room in search for his target, finding him quickly while he was somewhat dancing with women an entire head taller than he was. It seemed like his businessmen friends were all doing the same, all of them unwinding after a long day of work.
Jaejoong fixed the silencer on.
He lifted the pistol and got himself a clear aim, ready to blow the man’s brain out.
No room for mistakes.
Yunho tailed the hooded man with his eyes, staring at him move from the dance floor to the booth where two other men sat. He took another swig of alcohol from the glass, feeling the cold liquid gush down his throat. His stomach buzzed in reaction. The strange man spoke a few words, and removed something from the large tote resting on the seats.
It was a Glock.
Yunho’s eyes widened at first sight of the pistol, and his mouth later opened into an ‘O’ when he finally got the picture. So the other was an assassin, and had just located his target. Yunho watched the blond scan through the crowd again.
Interest piqued, he strained his ears for the slightest sound of a gunshot. Bang. With the loud pounding music dominating the ears of most people, the silenced gunshot was almost inaudible, but Yunho had caught the almost in his ears.
Screams followed and Yunho knew at once that the blond’s target had been taken down.
Just as the killer flipped his head to the side when he stood up to leave, a significant sharp glint of light flickered. A wave of recognition surged through Yunho before he got up in an instant and strode out the club.
Something about the stranger’s earrings had stirred him.
Kim Jaejoong’s earrings.
Jaejoong grabbed his bag and left the club as soon as he could. Anxious to get a good night of sleep, he meandered out of the club where he knew Junsu’s car would be waiting. He walked fast, knowing never to run because it always attracted undue attention, and ultimately someone might chase after.
A few steps out into the night and he was immediately choked by an arm that hooked itself around his neck from behind.
“Jaejoong.”
He tensed up, instantly recognizing the velvety voice that he knew belonged to Jung Yunho. He recognized me too?
Jaejoong turned around to face him, unafraid of the threatening weapon at his neck because his revolver was already steadied against the other man’s shirt.
Two lethal killers against each other - one with a dagger more trenchant than any other positioned at one’s vital carotid arteries, the other with an equally dangerous semi-automatic revolver pointing at his abdomen.
“I’d already wounded you there before but it seems to be healing well, Jung Yunho,” said Jaejoong, nudging the gun against Yunho’s flesh. The latter smirked, well aware that his wound had completely healed since their first rendezvous six months ago.
“Fast, aren’t you?” Yunho pressed the flat side of the dagger against Jaejoong’s skin harmlessly. “We have some unfinished business, I believe, though I really don’t understand why you’re alive. Were you looking for this, by any chance?”
They couldn’t see each other in the darkness but only a glimpse or two when the headlights of each passing car flickered spots of light on their faces. Jaejoong squinted to see what Yunho was referring to, and his heart sank when his eyes dropped to his neck.
It was his dagger, the one he lost and was trying to get back. He gritted his teeth and spoke, the usual alto voice of his lowered to a grave pitch. “What do you want?”
“…Cooking lessons.” Yunho seemed to come up with the answer on the spot.
“Wh - what did you say?” Jaejoong couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“I said, I wanted cook lessons,” Yunho repeated, but Jaejoong was still in disbelief. Then, Yunho offered that he’d return the dagger, and the Porsche. And anything else Jaejoong wanted.
Jaejoong, however, did not buy it. He nudged the revolver harder into Yunho’s stomach.
“Are you bloody out of your mind?” he spat, not amused.
When Yunho refused to answer, Jaejoong said again, “Look. There are many better chefs out there so why don’t you just hire them and return me my dagger? You can keep the car, just give me the dagger. Please.”
The dark alley was suddenly lit up by the headlights of a car, the rumbling of its engine preventing any further talk.
“Finally,” Jaejoong muttered under his breath.
“Till next time, Mr. Kim,” Yunho whispered into Jaejoong’s ears, tickling the other’s skin with his words. Distracted for a second, Jaejoong pulled the trigger a little too late, only to hear the empty clank of the bullet striking against the opposite wall.
Yunho had already disappeared into the shadows.
“Why… were you shooting at a wall in the dark?” Yoochun asked after a long while into the drive. Jaejoong had entered the BMW fuming - Junsu and he had not dared to speak.
“There was a man in front of me a second before I fired, that’s why.”
Yoochun and Junsu faced each other, not fully comprehending the situation. “So you were intending to kill the guy?”
“No I wasn’t, I was just practicing my aim with the brick wall in the middle of the night,” Jaejoong rolled his eyes, irritated, and tapped his fingers by the side of the window.
“Very funny. But it’s rare how someone could surpass your speed. Who was he?” Yoochun commented thoughtfully, turning behind to catch his reaction.
Jaejoong got insulted slightly, not pleased at all by how Yunho did manage to elude him. “Same guy you two saw on the dance floor. From Chambers. His name is Jung Yunho.”
A long pause passed as Jaejoong’s eyes became vacant. “He has my dagger.”
In front of him, Junsu and Yoochun shared an eye contact. Then, asked Junsu from behind the wheel, “Hyung, just what did he want?”
“Cooking lessons.”