Title: Puppet Strings
Author: Whiskey Bloodsbane Pincher
Genre(s): Crime, Romance
Pairing(s): Nyo!Korbela, Het!Rochu, Het!UsUk, Nyo!Spamano and various other het/yaoi/yuri pairings.
Rating: T
Summary: Nikolai Arlofsky is an assassin. Life was a simple series of steps at first: take an order, kill target, repeat. This was until he was forced to take a job with the clumsy yet endearing Soo Jin Im. And then everything went to hell.
Warnings: Groping (it's South Korea, okay?), bad language, blood, death and all other wonderful things that come with a mafia-ish!au.
a/n: Well. I really love KorBela and it deserves some love. So. Yeah. Here you go.
PUPPET STRINGS
Prologue: Conflict
(Part I)
Minds, Unlike...
Nikolai Arlofsky
Silence.
It's the strangest thing in the world. Human beings are social creatures. Wherever they go, noise and unrest follow. So, silence in their presence is unsettling. It's unnatural. It's not meant to be.
But, there are people out there. People like me. The people who snuff out the noise. They create the silence. By destroying the humans.
Can we still be called human?
Can a man who, under the numbness, enjoys destroying his victims be called human?
No.
It can't be helped. Watching someone die before your eyes causes a strange sense of euphoria. Seeing the light slowly die from their eyes, makes ones heart beat faster. The blood dripping down and pooling beneath the victim hypnotizes you.
It's beautiful, dying. You just have to notice the small things.
You may call me screwed up.
I will agree with you.
I am, indeed, a major screwed up person. And so are you. Everyone is screwed up in one way or the other.
If you disagree, you're either ignorant or just in plain denial.
But as you can see, some people tend to be more screwed up.
A knife dripping with blood repulses you; a knife dripping with blood attracts me.
I kill, I enjoy.
Yes, 'screwed up' does define people like me, doesn't it?
Our pasts shape us. Screwed up pasts, screwed up people.
Killing your father in a fit of rage at the age of nine is counted as a screwed up past, isn't it?
I feel a flicker of an unwanted emotion sometimes. Siastra calls it guilt. She says she feels it too, sometimes. It's a hassle, really, this 'guilt'. It makes me feel sad. And sadness is also an unwanted emotion. Love, grief, pain, guilt, sadness – these emotions are tiresome and unworthy for a man like me.
A murderer. A butcher. An assassin. A killer.
A freak.
People cannot be mended. What's done cannot be undone. I cannot run away from my mistakes.
Praŭda surovaja , alie heta praŭda.
The truth is harsh, but it is the truth.
Isn't that just lovely?
I am a freak and that's all there is to it. I was at peace with the sole knowledge of this fact.
Until I met her.
Being around her is strange. I feel the unwanted emotions. They accost me violently wherever I go, whatever I do. They stick to me like flies on a dead body. They creep up to me in my dreams.
I don't like it.
I'm losing grip on who I thought I was.
My cold façade is slipping. A new unwanted emotion has risen – fear.
Because now, I don't know who, or even what, I am.
useless author's useless a/n:
TRANSLATIONS:
(Belarusian)
Siastra: Sister
Praŭda surovaja , alie heta praŭda: The truth is harsh, but it is the truth. (this line was tweaked from the original where the word 'truth' is 'law'. Dramatic? Yes. Unnecessary? Yup. I suck? Definitely)
