The warehouse is quiet and dusty, smelling of dust and abandonment. Jung doubts that anyone has been here since five years ago, and the door creaks so loudly he winces when he pushes it open. Dust on the ground rises with every step, and shafts of pale sunlight poke through holes rusted in the metal walls. He kicks over an empty, upside-down crate that has the faded word 'Export' printed on it, along with something else that has long since been rubbed away. Underneath the crate, there is a modified handgun, just as promised, and several clips. Jung swallows, taking a deep breath.
"Hello?" Soo's voice is soft in his ear, and he can almost pretend that she is standing behind him, her breath ghosting over his ear and her hand on his shoulder. But the earpiece crackles a little, dissipating the illusion. "Can you hear me?"
"Yeah," Jung says. "Loud and clear." He refuses to let his hands shake as he checks the clips, loads the gun, then puts it under his jacket. This is for Soo. It's that simple. If it's for her, then he'll do it. If it's for her, it makes everything alright. This isn't the first time, but it's a big job, probably the biggest he's ever taken on. Calling it a job, though… That was wrong. They are always favors, really – he never takes payment from her in the form of money or any courtesanal liberties, even despite her occupation as such. A cup of tea, a song, a smile – never more.
"Good, good," Soo's sing-song voice says, and he can hear her smile. "You'll be alright."
Jung stands and rakes the hair back from his forehead. "I won't let you down," he says.
"I know you won't. I have faith in you."
That simple statement, the fact that she knows he won't fail her; it buoys him, puts a smile on his face, and nothing can hide his sunny grin.
Soo's softly-spoken directions in his ear lead him to a ramshackle Chinese restaurant in a row of even more ramshackle buildings. It's a gray-scale evening, and the glow of the red paper lanterns dims a little when the much brighter headlights of passing cars shine on them. The neon signs buzz and flicker, and it's begun to drizzle a little.
Jung crosses the street. Inside, it's steamy, and people are yelling at each other.
"Keep going," Soo says. "There's a back room that connects to the next building. There are three guards."
"Piece of cake," Jung says.
Soo tone is a little reproving. "Be careful."
"Are you worried?" he asks, picking his way around the tables.
"About your abilities? No. About you getting hurt? Yes."
Jung grins again. He's at the back door. "I'm a jerk for thinking it, but I'm glad you're worried," he says softly. "I won't die." His words are so quiet that he doubts shes even heard. It's better that way. He kicks the door open, the curtains fly open with a gust of wind, and he has three clear shots at three men.
He takes them.
He hears screams in the restaurant, but it's very far away. Gunshots are always too loud.
The men he'd killed had been playing mahjong. The tiles are scattered now, one of the men sprawled accross the table, blood leaking from the hole in his head, staining the mahjong tiles and the tablecloth a deep reddish brown. The blood shines thickly in the faint light, and even after so many times, Jung feels a little sick looking at it. He forces himself to look harder.
"Are you alright?" Soo asks gently, as she always does.
"Yeah." Jung steps over the two bodies on the floor and continues on.
Another door to kick down. This time, there is a return shot, but Jung knows to expect it. He aims around the door frame and hits the man in the neck. Two more doors. A long hallway. More bodies, more guns – Jung falls into an easy rhythm, and when he comes to the final door, he is ready.
"I'm there. I'll be done soon," he tells Soo.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I know this must be hard for you."
He tries to smile. "Hey, I'm doing this for you."
"And you know who I'm doing this for," she says.
So. You're doing this for So. But it's alright. I'm glad I can do this for you even if- Even if it's only like this. He doesn't answer. She falls silent.
He kicks down the door, then ducks back behind the doorframe, gun at the ready. Immediately, there are more gunshots, the rattling constancy of a machine gun. Jung concentrates until he can almost pinpoint where they are coming from. One person. Wook.
The machine gun pauses. Jung takes the moment and rolls in, gun up.
Wook is right there, behind his desk on its side. His eyes widen as he sees Jung and he scrambles back, ignoring the gun in his terror. Jung kicks it aside and leaps over the desk, coming down to stand in front of Wook, gun pointed at his heart.
"Jung?" Wook breathes. "Jung, what are you- Is this Madam Yoo? Did she send you? Is it So? Yo? I promise, whatever you heard from him was a lie. I can pay. I have money. I never meant-" he babbles. "I never- I did nothing- Jung, brother, little brother, we grew up together, you know I wouldn't-"
Jung bites his lip, hard. Even despite himself, there are tears in his eyes that he does not want there, and it's hard for him to breathe. His throat tightens. I can't-
In his ear, Soo's voice is gentle. "You can."
I can. For Soo.
Wook's eyes widen. He is about to say something else.
Jung shuts his eyes, and two tears roll down his cheeks, and he pulls the trigger. Then pulls it again. And again.
There is silence when he opens his eyes and as Soo gently tells him to take deep breaths, he follows her instruction. And then he is calm. "I'm fine now," he says to Soo. "What's next?" he asks with false cheer.
Which one of my brothers will you have me kill next, Soo? I'll do it for you, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't. I'll do anything. And when it's finally just me, you, and So, who will you have me point my gun at?
"Head uptown," Soo tells him.
"So, Yo then," Jung says.