Chapter Text
We are nothing but Exiled Heathens.
Have you heard of them?
The rats of Seoul?
They walk on two legs, move between humans and live right down your neighborhood. They can speak, they are handsome, young and powerful, and they also know that no one is there to threaten them. Police is afraid of them, and no one is important or stupid enough to challenge them.
They live amongst the citizens, and probably forget that all they are, are a bunch of illegals.
So, have you heard of the rats?
Probably not, because they live underground.
$$$
It’s intoxicating, the smell of money.
He has so much already, but there’s always a part of him asking for more. Even if his bank account is already over-flowing with digits.
The room is red velvet and black, a huge gambling table with green felt placed in the middle of it. Around it sit familiar faces Jongin has been following for a while already. He’s holding on his own share of cards as he glances over them and across, where the richest man sat. Feminine figures catch his attention as one of the women dressed in white lingerie offers him another drink of expensive taste. They are wearing little clothing, advertizing their bodies as instructed by their pimps. But Jongin’s not here for pussy, he’s here for something much more important. And it’s not like he’d end up in here with any of them if he was in need of affection. His standards are pretty high for a man of his kind.
He takes a glance around the table before he throws his cards on the table, standing up from his seat. With a quick move, he’s already brought his gun out and is pointing at the man across, whilst eyeing his two side-kicks. On cue, Minseok and Jongdae stand up to reveal their guns as well. The business man—and his target—raises his hands up in surrender and the other two follow suit. By now, some women have already screamed in terror, running away from the scene and from any possible bullets.
“I’m bored. I don’t think you’d mind me taking what’s mine,” Jongin smirked, moving the gun a bit as if to tell them to hurry. “Empty your pockets.” Minseok and Jongdae are fast to grab the packs of money from the table and throw them in nylon bags. Jongin circles the man his eyes are locked with, his gun lowering just enough for him to caress his neck with the barrel. He moves like a stealthy panther, its eyes digging into potential prey. “I know we had something between us, but sorry,” Jongin then grins, no emotion reaching his eyes and the man gulps in fear. “You’re not my style.”
A gunshot echoes and Jongdae loses all color from his face. “Kai, we said no killing.”
Jongin’s eyes rise from the corpse and lock with Jongdae, “oops.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Minseok motions fast, already by the door and ready to escape.
“If Chanyeol asks for me, tell him I’m busy, okay?” Jongin winks at the other two frozen and shocked men.
“Kai, that was completely unnecessary,” Jongdae scolds him as soon as they are jogging down the corridor, Jongin the only relaxed of the trio.
“You know I love seeing Chanyeol foam from anger.”
“Lay’s waiting at the back.”
With Minseok’s announcement, they let the topic die, and as they pass the front and hear men yell at them to stop, Jongin plainly shoots one of them in the thigh.
He’s too tired of every single one of them.
And more so, of Chanyeol.
It kept his day interesting, though, like nothing else. So he couldn’t afford losing his only source of entertainment.
$$$
Jongin has been like this for as long as he can remember. He has faint memories of a broken, tainted family. His parents, being only a young couple with an unplanned pregnancy and no money for abortion, took a road down south at the news of the awaited child. His mother tried to force a stop to it all, but against her wishes, Jongin was born as healthy as ever. It was years later that his parents divorced, a summer shy before he got into high school. So under the whole neglect, hatred, abuse, hurt, he was suspended soon enough, and has been living a life in exile since.
He can still remember how his mother would come back with a different man each week, introduce him as his new father, only to replace him a couple days later. The apartment stunk of booze and drugs, and they could barely afford the thing what with only Jongin actually having a stable enough job at some local petrol station.
Jongin was fast to learn how to ignore her and her problems.
Everything as he knew fell down the drain one night when he was barely nineteen. He was coming back home from work when he appeared to be at the wrong time and at the wrong place. And from then on, the underground sucked him in, because he’d witnessed a murder and the only way to stay alive, was to obey the murderers. But he liked them. In a sense, he idolized their will to survive, and they also accepted him in because he was obedient enough.
Fast forward to the twenty-nine year old Kim Jongin, and he’s an assassin with his own little cult.
He, Minseok, Jongdae and Yixing have been working together for a couple years already, each coming from a disaster of a home of their own. They’d built their own little underground kingdom where Jongin was treated as a rightful King, and the news of them appearing spread like fire. More people joined with the promise of wealth and fortune, exchanging their loyalty and soul for one seat below Jongin’s throne. And Jongin welcomed the peasants, fully aware that their lives would be in his hands and orders— both already so bloodied.
And amongst all the chaos, there was a fourth person.
Kyungsoo was a pearl buried deep in the soil, never actually taking part in any of the illegal matters, but always by Jongin’s side whenever he needed someone to lean on or to cover him. He was there, with a love so overwhelming that even if Jongin always took and never gave, he still stayed. Kyungsoo has been here for years already, so many that Jongin has forgotten when they met exactly. But it was alright.
He wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
Jongin, the man who held the blood of countless men on his shoulders, would walk into a house of luxury, meeting a table full of food and a kiss on his cheek. Kyungsoo would leave him alone to eat in silence, removing himself from the scene so subtly and silently. He would come back only to clean after his meal but Jongin would need some company and Kyungsoo would just kiss his worries away. It was the same every day, having Kyungsoo wait for him and Jongin feeding on his love. Almost like a vampire, sucking the last and having no whatsoever regrets. Because Kyungsoo was there to please him, and neither had an objection to it.
At the beginning, Kyungsoo would tag along. Through the years, Jongin had taught him how to use all kinds of guns, knowing that he was in danger just for associating himself with Jongin. Kyungsoo never participated much in robberies. He would just keep an eye for any passerby’s, or walk along to cover Jongin’s back, or just be pretty. Whatever it was, Kyungsoo loved spending time with Jongin, even if their dates turned out to be assassinations or breaking into buildings.
It took a crazy person to love an insane one, and as long as Kyungsoo orbited around Jongin’s existence, he was losing his sanity too. Kyungsoo was there to please him, and Jongin would take it, because he thrived on the love yet made sure to show little in return. Kyungsoo was a man who could take some hard loving and would still come back for more, so Jongin left everything at minimum.
There are a lot of reasons why Jongin feels like a King, one whose power and influence has not yet been recognized as much as it should—but he’s getting there. His name wanders the severs as the ‘man who kills’, since paid assassination is what brought him here in the first place. And by closer people, those in his clan in particular, he’s known for his solid addiction to money and card games.
However it is, Jongin lives up to his name, and while everyone knows he’s batshit insane, they still look up to him for standing proud in front of a powerful mafia boss named Park Chanyeol.
$$$
Jongdae and Minseok climb into the van, hitting the door twice for Jongin who takes his sweet time looking around the street. Finally, as he climbs after the duo, men run out from the door that leads to the illegal poker hutch and Jongdae’s fast to shut the doors before any bullets find them, losing his footing just a bit because the van is kicked awake.
“Took you long enough,” Yixing glances through the rear mirror, eyes falling on Jongdae’s face, the man leaning against the back door of the van with a long sigh hanging from his lips. “Was the catch good?”
“Yes, but Jongin got out of plan again.”
“You make it sound like it’s bad,” Jongin groans as he leans his head on the nylon bag of money packs, the one Minseok brought in. Minseok just glances at him from where he sits, hugging his knees to his chest.
“Chanyeol will get angry, Jongin. You know this is a hutch he has shares at. He’ll be pissed if one of his wealthiest clients is found dead.”
“So what?” Jongin snorts. “Let him come. I’ve been waiting years for him to act, but he’s just another pussy that’s all talk and anger management problems.” Then, he looks up at Minseok, a smirk and a wink. “Don’t you trust me, baby?”
Jongdae makes a throaty sound of disgust as he sits down. “Seriously, Jongin. You have been messing with Chanyeol long enough. Don’t you think he might get revenge?”
“He’s too afraid to act. Otherwise, he would have done so a long time ago.”
Then, Jongin looks at the roof of the van, humming the tune of a song he’s heard Kyungsoo sing lately while showering.
$$$
The following day a man arrives at Jongin’s clan’s headquarters, the message he carries one from Chanyeol himself, speaking of big words and Jongin whistles at his threats. He gives the man a letter of a response and as he watches him walk off with his tail in between his legs, he tsks to himself.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I think it is,” Jongin glances at Jongdae before glaring at the back of the man who’d brought the letter to him. “Who knew Chanyeol finally grew a pair?” he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, laughing to himself. Then, as suddenly as the outburst ignites, it dies, and he turns to Jongdae with a serious face. “Gather a couple men to stand outside while we talk. Tell Minseok to keep them in the dark. In case Chanyeol has planned an ambush, I will have to have some backup. I want you here, though.”
Jongdae is left to stare at his back as he walks away, sighing into thin air. He has a bad feeling about this, but as much as he’s friends with Jongin, he can’t disobey his orders. So instead of pondering more about it, he heads straight to Minseok, knowing that tomorrow might as well be the beginning of a war.
Jongin comes home to cooked meat that evening and although his stomach growls angrily in hunger, he walks up to Kyungsoo and grabs onto his hair. He pulls him close, a small hiss falling off those plump lips Jongin has been fantasizing all day.
“Jongin,” a flash of unknown emotion flares up in Kyungsoo’s eyes and Jongin names it love. So he bites on the pale skin to earn more of those breaths in shape of his name, some gasps, some hot exhales. Jongin gets drunk just by the sound of Kyungsoo’s perfect voice.
“Tomorrow I want you at the headquarters,” he whispers into Kyungsoo’s ear. When he hears no response, his grip on the other’s hair tightens. “Understood?”
“Y-Yes,” comes right after and Jongin smirks.
“Some men will be there to keep you safe just in case, while I’m away.”
“What is happening?” Kyungsoo hisses as the grip tightens more but Jongin answers with a simple; “No questions”.
Jongin might never admit he wants to keep Kyungsoo safe, to protect him and promise him that everything will be alright. He’s not that kind of man, and Kyungsoo doesn’t need to hear anything he already knows. Kyungsoo’s there as an ornament, one to keep him company during some of the loneliest nights and craziest days. He’s there to pamper Jongin with love, for no exchange other than safety.
And Jongin’s there to take the last of Kyungsoo’s life.
A pretty fair agreement, if Jongin had to say so himself.
$$$
The silence around the warehouses is deafening but Jongin enjoys the eerie feeling. The atmosphere spells danger and warnings yet Jongin still strides ahead with a confidence only the leader of a gang would have. Always walking as if he owns the place, as if nothing scares him—which might as well be the case. That was the attitude of a dominant hellhound. He has never acted afraid and even if he lived in terror and a life-threatening lifestyle, he has forgotten what scared means.
So he sports a smirk as soon as he kicks the metal door to the warehouse he, himself, instructed Chanyeol to come. He’s not afraid of making noise. His men are hiding around the block with orders to kill if this is an ambush, and if Jongin is gone, Chanyeol will have to pay for the anger his men will have directed at him, that and all those bullets. Jongin has nothing to lose—he never has. A lot think that that’s why he’s reached this rank since so young. He was always reckless, but also a lucky bastard, if his enemies should point out.
In the middle of the warehouse stands a chair and Jongin snorts. He’s being watched. Such a Chanyeol move, not showing up right away, always so mysterious for some reason.
“Chanyeol come out, come out, wherever you are,” Jongin sing songs with a grin but his eyes are checking each corner with subtle movements of his head. He’s being watched, he knows Chanyeol is around, but he also knows that it was wise of him to have backup because this smells wrong. “I don’t have all day, Chanyeol. Will you stay in the shadows or finally grow a pair and show your face?”
Jongin turns around slowly, knowing that sharp moves will do more bad than good and he finally hears footsteps. Heels hit the ground, clacks echoing across the empty building. At that, Jongin smirks, eyes making out the tall form of the man who’ve been his toy to anger for the past couple of years. Jongin has seen him only two times by now, both of them from a distance, but his appearance has been engraved in his mind since.
He’s a tall man, taller than him, with a muscular body. He sports dark brown hair, eyes always so piercing wherever they glance at. Masculine jaw line, sharp features, big ears and a simple sense of fashion. He always wears leather and street wear, something Jongin dislikes due to his love for suits. Jongin’s eyes first fall on the other’s hands, empty of weapons, but the suspicion doesn’t leave him.
“Came alone, Kai? Isn’t that reckless coming from a man who should know better?”
Jongin smirks, approaching the chair between them and with a swift move, he kicks it with force, it barely flying by Chanyeol’s legs. Immediately, he hears guns being put off safe and Jongin snorts.
“So much precaution to see an old friend…” he tsks, shaking his head. “I thought we had some trust between us, Channie.”
“You should have thought of that before you went on a killing spree in my territory, before you attacked one of my clients, before you broke havoc in my businesses.” Chanyeol’s voice is deep, Jongin almost sees why people obey him without even meaning to. He has this confidence and the orders spelt out in a deep, threatening tone that would work on anyone even remotively scared of dying. Jokes on him, though. Jongin’s not afraid of death.
Jongin fakes shock, bringing a hand to cover his mouth just the slightest. “I did that?”
“Jongin, I didn’t come here to speak nonsense. You either fix up your act or I will take measures I don’t have to. I can’t afford having a self-proclaimed gang mess around with mine. You either respect my territory, or we go to war.”
“Self-proclaimed?” Jongin repeats, humming to himself as he gazes around. The men should be hiding in the dark of the first floor, since there’s an open wide square connecting both floors. Even if Jongin can’t see the darkest corners, he knows he’s in plain sight for them. Such a joke. “If you kill me, though,” he muses, eyes digging into those shadows of the first floor. “who will play with you then?”
“Since I know you just want to mess with me, I would suggest you don’t. Otherwise, there will be consequences.”
“As?” Jongin challenges and stares at him with a hint of a smirk.
“As your precious little boyfriend getting hurt.”
Jongin is amused and almost laughs. “I thought you would know me better than this after so many years, Chanyeol.”
“Alright,” then Chanyeol shows a smirk that sends a chill down Jongin’s back, suspicion rising more as he watches the taller man with slits for eyes. “Call me when you want him back.” Chanyeol winks once, and turns his back on Jongin.
“What?” Jongin barks, anger boiling at the other’s departure and he moves his hand to his holster but hears movement from above his head. That dick… So he opts to run outside instead, his body in overdrive for reasons he doesn’t know. But he has a bad feeling about this, and as much as he tries, he makes little sense of it. However, what he has to do now is to head to headquarters, make sure that Chanyeol is only messing with his head.
He’s quick to jump into Yixing’s van and they take off, they’re speeding down the road while Jongin is making calls. He informs Minseok to leave the warehouses and return to headquarters. And then he also calls Jongdae, who doesn’t answer and it makes the pit in his stomach bigger as anxiety pools in it. But his face remains stoic for the sake of being a leader, his insides are burning in anger and worry.
“Is he not picking up?” Yixing asks from beside him, sending a short glance his way after Jongin gets no reply the third time he called Jongdae. “Do you think Chanyeol had something planned?”
Jongin only grits his jaws, the teeth threatening to go back in his gums from the force because Jongin is pissed off. He will not allow Chanyeol to mess with him. Jongin is supposed to mess with him. Chanyeol is not allowed to go past his defenses, into his own headquarters and take what he wants, kill who he doesn’t. At this point, Jongin has forgotten of faces, he just wants to go and find the building in one piece.
The breaks screech as Yixing pulls the van to an immediate stop in front of their headquarters and Jongin has already felt a bit relieved because the building doesn’t seem to have been affected, meaning it’s safe to enter. He shoots out from the van, running inside and his pace slows down as he sees the first body on the ground. Yixing’s questions die out somewhere behind him when he takes in the sight, too.
The whole room is a mess, stories of a gunshot fight taking place just before. Jongin kicks the unconscious body, finding a face he doesn’t recognize, so that makes him hope. As he and Yixing walk farther down the headquarters he starts finding his own men injured—and happy to see him—and some more dead bodies. Some of the hurt men start talking of what happened but it falls on deaf ears because Jongin’s mind is elsewhere.
They head to the huge storage room at the back, next to the indoor parking lot to find the heavy wooden door broken into and Jongin’s heart falls more. Stepping past it, his eyes fall on a body at his right, the back of Jongdae’s, and he walks up to it. His arms and legs are tied and he’s left there alone, the phone out of his reach. Whoever had come in here, didn’t want to kill him, considering he was still very alive and his gun a meter or so away.
“Jongin—“
“Where’s Kyungsoo?” The anger in his eyes makes Jongdae swallow thickly in anxiety.
“They came in, went through all men and headed straight in here. They didn’t want to kill anyone, they just wanted to take Kyungsoo.”
Although Jongin already knows the answer, he still breathes out a “who?” through gritted teeth.
“Chanyeol’s men.”
Yixing sends a worrisome glance at his leader, half-worried he would lose his control or anger, half-scared being the receiving end of either. But Jongin calms down shortly after and he kneels in front of Jongdae to cut off the zip ties. Yixing can see how Jongdae is side-eyeing him too but the burst they were waiting never comes. Instead, Jongin stands proud and sighs tiredly.
“Clean everything up and take care of the injured. I’m leaving.”
“What about Kyungsoo?” Yixing asks his turned back and notices a slight falter in his steps.
“Let Chanyeol have him. Soon, he’ll be asking for something and he’ll never have it.” A small pause, more for himself rather than anyone else. “And I’m not giving in any of his requests.”