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“Oi, Three! Put down that damned charcoal and get your gear on, we’ve got to be out of here in thirty and I won’t be dealing with your consequences,” yelled the bulky brunet to Three’s left, and he was promptly ignored, midnight blue locks remaining steadfast as Three focused on the next few strokes of charcoal. Anger bubbled up at the dismissal but Five knew well enough that he was best to just let it go with only a mumbled demand of “just hurry up, man.”
Hidden behind strands of indigo, Three rolled his eyes as Five plodded noisily out of the tiny dressing room, leaving him alone in the threadbare, whitewashed space, hunched over a sketchpad on the child-sized couch. The silence was a balm to his buzzing mind, calm and focus settling as each smudge and smear on the lightly tanned page became smoother and the image finally took shape. Soon enough Three swapped out the flaking charcoal for a perfectly cylindrical piece of white chalk, and the highlights of the stranger’s familiar face scratched into the portrait and, before squirrelling the treasured leather-bound book somewhere none of his team would find it, Three took a moment to stare at his work critically. No matter how often Three had drawn Changbin he had never managed to capture the layers behind his eyes, nor the quiet confidence in the small quirk of his lips and this sketch was no different in that regard.
With a frustrated huff, Three hid away his treasured collection of drawings and strapped his holster over his chest, pulling on his jacket half zipped up in case he’d need to hide the weapon he’d stashed away in it. Despite his very legal licence to carry arms, Three would rather not have to explain the borderline illegal firearm strapped to his chest in a way that would certainly imply he was planning to use it. Considering he very much was planning to use it, being stopped would be extremely counterproductive.
Appropriately dressed, Three strode out of the room following the route he knew Five had taken to exit the warehouse entirely. From the outside the building appeared completely run down and trashed, but it was stocked as a safehouse with running water, electricity, and surprisingly decent Wi-Fi, they required a way to contact headquarters after all.
The sky was lit up by a gradient of oranges, pinks and purples as the sun dipped below the horizon displaying a view that ignited the urge for Three to reach for the camera that no longer sat around his neck, ruined only by the four impatient figures of his team. Five had been seconds away from storming back in to attempt, once again, to drag three out by the ear, Three could tell, but he also knew, and was proven correct as their driver pulled up to their group just seconds after Three had appeared, that he was not in fact late.
It was a struggle but Three held back the smug smirk and slipped into the passenger’s side in the front of the van, nodding stoically at the familiar baby face of their driver. The kid had been driving them around so long he was no longer truly a kid, but with an age gap of almost a decade between most of the team and their young driver, the term of address was something Three hadn’t dropped mentally, though he’d begun to make an effort with the few short sentences they verbally shared. I.N. had been such a vital auxiliary to their endeavours and such an easy-going person that he was by far the most liked person of and by their group and, quite frankly the only person among them that Three would voluntarily speak to, independent from their work.
“You’ve all been briefed?” I.N. questioned as the four others slid into the back, glancing at them in the rear-view mirror and watched amusedly as the irritated scowls on their faces faded, directing a nod each in his direction. “Good, I’ll be driving through a petrol station down while you get it done so I’ll be round the back of the building ten minutes after I drop you off, if you’re not out within twelve another driver will be driving past after another five minutes. You miss that too then you’re walking to the next safehouse.”
The spiel was familiar, repeated almost exactly with each job they took but I.N. had never skipped it, had always recited it like rhetoric with a dubious glint in his eyes. Perhaps over the years he’d developed some sort of fondness for them, but Three would never mention his suspicion for fear of exposing his own affection, well aware of the consequences an attachment might result in. The higher ups were of the mind that emotions led to vulnerabilities. Oddly enough that opinion was one of the reasons their team was favoured by the Organisation, all five of the operatives had some sort of quarrel with each of the others. Three just found that it forced a lack of trust between them and could present an innumerable array of other issues (many of which they’d experienced first-hand) but their issues had lessened since they were rookies. All of them had begun trying much harder to tolerate each other after Two had been killed.
Each of them had rotated who would work solo with each of their missions following his death, normally running in pairs but when there were multiple jobs during the same timeframe and there was no other team available to fill the gap of their deceased member, working alone was an unfortunate necessity. Today was Three’s rotation. It was however an unorthodox job, with all three of the team’s targets working in the same building and the hits originating from the same client, but it gave their team easier entrance and exit so the five, plus I.N., weren’t particularly concerned about any hiccups. Three was especially relaxed about the whole ordeal, despite going solo because they’d given him the most vulnerable target according to the extensive record of health issues listed in the older woman by the name of Aida Rye’s file and the intel passed on by the higher ups strongly implied, she had no reason to suspect any sort of attack. Regardless of Three’s aversion to cold-blooded murder - a surprising opinion for someone with his occupation - the jobs with a lack of a protection detail were his favourites, Three hated the looks people gave him whenever he went anywhere covered in bruises.
Pulling up smoothly to their drop off point, I.N. nodded cheerfully at them and in pairs they slunk out, face masks pulled up over their mouths and noses, Five following after One, Six with Four. Three was the last to slide from the navy van, nodding back at their driver in thanks before zipping his jacket fully and blending in the evening crowd of pedestrians. Having scouted the building to ensure they’d all be able to get in a few days prior, Three was confident in his path forward, an ID card he’d swiped in his pocket and a mental map of the wing his target would be in his head. It’d be a piece of cake.
Initially Three’s prediction had been correct, no one had even looked twice at him as he’d swiped the stolen ID - clearly the owner hadn’t reported it missing and had it deactivated - nor as he’d strode confidently along the halls and into the west wing, though his dark skinny jeans were a bit out of place. Three had even passed One in the lobby, sparing the woman an unassuming glance as they’d passed each other, just long enough that it didn’t look like he was ignoring her but short enough that he clearly didn’t know her either. He could only assume One had done the same considering her tenure as a member of the organisation.
Three had gotten as far as his target’s office before the glitch in the plan appeared, standing like a statue by the wooden door that separated Rye’s office from the communal area of the third floor. A muttered curse had fallen from Three’s lips as he ducked back around a corner, thankful that the angle he’d been approaching was barely in the guard's peripheral vision. Of course, the intel would be off when he was working alone and of course the surprise would be Changbin - one of the very few people who worked security who knew both Three’s face and his name. The list of people who knew his name was so short Three could count them on one hand and the majority of them were those high enough up in the organisation to have access to their agents’ personal files. In an organisation that built itself on the anonymity of its operatives, there were very few people with that level of access.
Changbin had been told Three’s name by a previous employer, a paranoid man in his thirties that had been on the organisation's hit list for almost three years before Three had got him. Their largest hit to their success had been given a heads up. Someone scandalously high up in the organisation had supplied the files of each operative who might have been sent his way. Three had been on that list. Changbin as the leader of his security at the time had been given full access to the collection of data over the eight months he’d protected the well connected man.
As the seventh agent in three years picked to attempt the well-known “one who got away,” Three had been cautious, his colleagues complaining that he was overly so, but he’d seen how the others had fared. Only four out of seven had actually returned to headquarters at all before passing along the assignment. In hindsight, Three was thankful for his own tenacity to remain wary because Changbin had known everything there was on file about him, every weak point, every detail of his working life and background. Everything that the Organisation knew of, Changbin knew too and Three knew Changbin well enough after the month stalking him and the target that he’d not only have prepared himself specifically, but also their residence. Walking into that building oblivious would have trapped him in an ambush explicitly tailored to him.
Watching Changbin had rapidly become the focus of that month as Three had puzzled over the silent man’s sharp mind and sure movements. He wasn’t ex-military as so many bodyguards often were, Three was certain, he lacked the strict, uniform organisation to his life and Three was also fairly sure Changbin wasn’t an ex-con either, not that he didn’t have the correct skillset. In fact, Three was sure he’d have become very successful had he followed that path considering his strong will, intelligence and raw cunning, but he seemed to lack the essential disregard for certain morals and laws.
Getting into the small, two-story townhouse that his target and Changbin had occupied was nigh impossible. Three had marvelled at the stealthy positioned alarm sensors and heat camera’s that were tiny enough to have cost a fortune and no doubt funded by his target. Then there was the bullet-resistant glass in every single window. In addition to all that, the only person to exit the building was Changbin himself, leaving two watchmen and a link to each alarm and camera feed whenever he did so. The complete set up was as infuriating as it was fascinating.
Maddeningly, Three found himself not only admiring Changbin in a professional capacity but also a personal one. At first it was simply the width of his shoulders, the tilt to his dark eyes, and the sharp line of his jaw, normal, typical physical attraction Three had told himself. Changbin was objectively handsome and had the circumstances been any different Three might have approached the brunet, but they weren’t so he didn’t, but the fact didn’t stop his gaze from wandering, much to Three’s consternation. Gallingly, it hadn’t stopped there and suddenly the cadence of his voice was soothing, the small awkward interactions with the cashier at the coffee place every morning were amusing, the concentrated furrow of his eyebrows as he focused on the information that exposed Three for Changbin to potentially eliminate, he found endearing. It had gotten to the point that Three knew he shouldn’t be on the job any longer, but he knew the layout so well that sending in someone else would waste another couple months, of which Changbin would use to bolster his already almost impenetrable safehouse.
It was only days after Three had admitted the truth to himself that he’d found the flaw in Changbin’s set up and he knew he’d have to make his move before the bodyguard spotted it himself. Working on estimations, Three had found a small blind spot in the array of cameras just to the left side of the building which had a hidden but clear line of sight to the small office that was used to monitor the cameras and activate the alarm and lockdown procedure. It would be simple enough to send a bullet into the guard monitoring the screens with how often the careless man left the windows open. With no one there to set off the lockdown and manual alarm, all Three needed to do was neutralise the basic house alarm as well as the guard standing outside the front door and pick the lock. He just needed to wait until Changbin was out. That man was too much of a risk to take on when he didn't have any time.
Yet, like any opening in jobs like those, Three still had an unknown variable in the works: a possible second alarm inside the house. If there, it would likely alert both his target and Changbin that he was in the house and Three needed to be efficient and very very quick if he wanted to get away unscathed. It was a risk he was going to have to take but Three had determined there was little he could do to lessen the issues presented and the opportunity to get the jobs done that day was too good to miss. He’d just have to time his attack when Changbin would be at his furthest away from the house. Three knew his schedule well enough to know how long after he left that would be, though it was the one disappointing part of Changbin’ methods. A routine made planning a strike so much easier.
The shot to the head of the detail monitoring the cameras was silent and easy, the man had opened the window as soon as Changbin had left, clearly aware that his boss would disapprove of the blatant hole in the system he’d created, for good reason too. The second guard was next to go down, this time creating a louder smack as he hit the floor. Three winced at the noise before leaping out of his perch and down to the door, picking the lock swiftly, hands immediately started fiddling with the alarm console behind it to turn it off, shoulders relaxing as he succeeded. As he took a step into the main space of the house a sharp shriek sounded and Three’s heart burst into a sprint as his suspicions proved true. Discarding stealth, he made quick work of the inside door and found an empty ground floor with a chair upturned, presumably in his target’s haste to escape, Three resigned himself to a game of hide and seek, clutching the Glock in his hands and following the carnage left behind the fleeing man.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Three had spotted the open window immediately, heart nose-diving to his abdomen as the prospect of his target jumping out the window crossed his mind, it wasn’t a drop he’d manage to walk away from but if he was desperate– Three cut his thoughts off, suddenly aware of the vulnerable position he’d fallen into, his back not fully protected, seconds before the blur of a man launched itself at Three, who had a moment to turn and stabilise himself before the impact came, barely preventing them both from taking a plunge out the window.
For such a small man, Three’s target had hit him with an impressive force, enough to knock him off-balance, the grip on his pistol slipping before the clatter of it hitting the ground ricocheted around the enclosed space, capturing his target’s attention for a smidge too long. By the time the other man had focused back on Three, the latter had landed a blow to his spleen, forcing him to hunch over and allowing the hitman to ram his knee into his target's temple and knocking him out cold. Snatching his pistol from where it had fallen, Three fired without hesitation at the unconscious man’s head and the job was done.
He wasn’t safe yet though; Changbin would be back in a matter of minutes.
Three had moved to leave when instinct had taken over, head ducking down, narrowly dodging the wooden handled kitchen knife thrown from up the stairs that signalled Changbin’s return. Confused, Three had glanced back at where the knife had embedded itself in the wall behind him, had Changbin misplaced his gun? Apparently so, Three had decided as his broad shoulders careened over the top of the staircase, a well-aimed, sharp kick knocking his firearm from his hands again, and suddenly there was a fist flying at his face. Avoiding the blow, Three settled into sharp focus, knees bending as he blocked the kick Changbin sent in quick retaliation to his first punch thrown and then making his own strike. Perhaps, Three had mused, Changbin had taken the emphasis in his file on firearms to mean his hand-to-hand was lacking. It wasn’t, of course, Three had always just preferred the weight of a weapon in his palms as opposed to nimble fists and split-second dodges but he was by no means lacking in that area.
Changbin was, however, just as proficient and would have made the best sparring partner Three had ever had if their circumstances were different, alas they were not, and Changbin would most likely kill him if given the opportunity. Their tussle barely lasted a meagre thirty seconds before Three managed to gain the upper hand, forcing Changbin’s knee to buckle under the perfectly aimed blow to his knee, and finally Three had his pistol in his hands again, the nose trained on the bodyguard, moving far enough away that Changbin wouldn’t be able to knock it out of his hands before he could pull the trigger, again.
“I’d just like to say,” Three started, edging down the stairs as he took the opportunity to finally communicate with the other man, “this past month has been fascinating. You fascinate me.” The sneer that rose on the frozen bodyguard’s face sent an electrified thrill down Three’s spine, the words Changbin spat back at him only drawing a laugh from him, “You Hyunjin, disgust me.”
Still chuckling (a little giddily, but he would never admit that aloud), Three spun on his heel and broke into a sprint as he crossed the threshold of the front entrance that Changbin had flung open on his entrance. “Changbin knows my name,” a silly reason for the thrill down his spine but the words circled his mind for weeks following the encounter along with the vivid memory of how Changbin’ lips had curled around the word “Hyunjin.”
They’d run into each other on several jobs following that one, though Changbin was not always aware of the fact, and each time Three had delighted in learning new things about his latest obsession. Revelling in the way Changbin’ posture would straighten whenever he was angry and the way his face would relax when he went to the gym, as if the world had fallen away and the only thing that remained were the weights and the punching bag. It made Three dig deeper, poking around for a little longer than whatever job he was on really allowed for but unable to resist potentially satisfying his curiosity.
Regrettably his first few attempts went unrewarded, Changbin appearing to be utterly, boringly normal until Three broke into his apartment after seeing the protective detail leave in a hurry, finding his laptop unlocked and open. Giving into the urge easily, Three carefully flicked through the open applications, finding music production software running, a faint beat playing quietly through the headphones beside the laptop. That was the first time Changbin almost caught him in his apartment, Three having completely lost track of time snooping and only managing to run up the fire escape as he heard the jingling of keys outside the front door.
If there was anything certain he’d learned from the last year about Changbin, it was that there was no way he could take the man on without either prior planning or the element of surprise.
“Fuck,” Three muttered, back pressed to the peeling wall of the corridor as his mind raced. Tapping out a quick message to the others to warn them about their potentially faulty intel, Three slipped his knife out from under his sleeve into his palm and peeked around the corner. As always, the stockier man was alert and stood with a posture that made his broad shoulders impossibly wider. Three couldn't resist raking his eyes across them and trailing down to his slim waist, teeth trapped between his lips as he allowed himself a moment to appreciate the sight before he’d have to ruin Changbin’s day.
Okay, moment over.
Giving up on blending in with the business-like demeanour they’d all adopted to get into the building unnoticed, Three slunk away from the door, hurrying to the stairwell on the other side of the hall and sprinting up them on silent feet. Up one floor and just a little to the left… He glanced through the window of the door of the office in front of him, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw it was empty and striding in as if he belonged there. Gleaming up at him from the other side of the room was a silver handrail for one of three balconies on this floor, one that happened to be directly above a window for the room adjacent to Mrs Rye’s. A smirk across his thin lips, Three stalked over to the left hand side of the balcony, grasping the rail securely and swinging his legs over the side. Swing, jump, catch and he was secured inside the room on the floor below, thankfully not in use.
Peeking out from behind the small window outside the door was the side of Changbin’ hair and Three froze as the opportunity presented itself. He could make that headshot. From this close and this angle… Three could pull his glock and blow his brains out.
His pistol never left its holster at his hip.
A deep breath. Another and then he was moving, hands swift and sure as one pushed down the door handle and pushed it open, the other striking Changbin at his hip, yanking away his pistol from its holster. Caught by surprise, it was only after the clatter of the firearm hitting the floor that Changbin’s elbow came flying up to ram Three’s shoulder, but the hitman reacted quickly and Changbin only clipped him. Off balance, Three managed to smash the back of Changbin’s head into the wall behind him, knocking him out cold.
Grabbing the fallen gun, Three removed the clip, tossing the two components as far as he could in opposite directions along the corridor. Absently, he chuckled to himself as he watched them slide further away on the shiny floor before bursting into the office to find his target hunched over her desk, pen in hand, scribbling away at some document or other. A flick of the wrist and there was a knife in her throat. Knarled hands flew up to clutch at her neck as terror and shock warred in her aged gaze. Three didn't stop to watch Rye choke on her own blood, turning on his heel to flee but stopping in his tracks as the barrel of a gun greeted him, Changbin’s hard stare behind it. There was a line of blood trickling down the side of his face and despite the threat to his life, Three couldn't banish the desire to trace it with his tongue.
Really, it was a shame Three needed to wear the face mask to maintain anonymity, because Changbin couldn't see the sleazy grin that stretched over his lips as he stepped closer to the bodyguard.
“You know,” he purred, and did not break eye contact as Changbin’ fingers twitched at the tone, “I should have expected the second pistol. Always so prepared, darling, it gives me such a thrill.” The handsome man’s face screwed into an enraged frown.
“Shut up and kneel. Hands behind your head.” Three’s eyes flashed and he knelt easily.
“Oh, I’d drop to my knees for you anytime, darling, no need to wave a gun in my face.”
“I said,” Changbin grit out between clenched teeth, “shut up.”
Leaning forward, Three drawled, “Make me.”
Changbin’ patience snapped and he took a step forward, his arm coming back to whip the gun across Three’s face but the hitman struck first, right hand striking at the soft spot at Changbin’s side. His left arm lurched up to block the path of the gun, knocking it away from them both as Three launched to his feet. Changbin tilted, reacting to the stab of pain in his abdomen and Three seized the opening, grabbing his forearm and twisting it behind his back until Changbin cried out at the pain, his pocket knife slipping back between Three’s fingers to press against the side of Changbin’s throat. Instantly, the stockier man froze. Focus wandering, Three was suddenly very aware that Changbin was a full head shorter than him and if he breathed in deep enough he’d smell Changbin’s soothing citrus scent.
“Changbin, darling, we must work on your impulse control,” whispered Three, breath caressing the shell of the shorter man’s ear and Changbin’ shiver in response drew a rumble of pleasure from the hitman, one that he clearly didn't appreciate as Changbin growled “Stop calling me darling, you psycho.”
Yanking at the hold on his arm, Changbin struggled against Three as he walked him away from the door, the body Aida Rye splayed across her desk. Dead.
Not sparing the corpse a glance, Three pulled out the chair meant for guests out from where it was tucked under the desk with his foot, pressing the blade further into Changbin’s skin as the hitman eased his hold on the arm locked between back and chest.
“I don't think I will,” Three purred, “not when it makes your pupils dilate so beautifully,” Changbin’s eyes flicked to the small mirror on the opposite wall and found his captors brown eyes boring into his own, the stare so intense Changbin was unable to look away, even as Three breathed, “darling.” into his ear once more. This time Changbin couldn’t deny the shiver that ran through him or the way his eyes glazed over and his pupils widened, watching as he saw it with his own two eyes in the mirror even as the polished silver of the blade at his throat glinted in the low light overhead. The gulp was involuntary and Changbin could feel it as the smile widened on the hitman’s face even if it was covered by a black mask.
“Stop.”
It was weak and they both knew it but Changbin couldn’t let whatever was happening continue, not with him, not with the kind old woman he’d been protecting dead in the corner and almost as if he understood where Changbin’ thoughts had wandered, Three glanced over to her body, eyed cold and unfeeling but considering. That contemplation and acceptance in those chocolate irises was the last thing he remembered in that office, as he lost consciousness with a suddenness he knew wasn't natural, waking up to screaming several hours later. He was definitely alive, Changbin knew, feeling the rise and fall of his own chest and the way the paramedics ignored Rye's body and focused only on him.
What the hell was Three playing at?