#encounters;

Lashkar-e-Taiba militans responsible for Amreen Bhat’s death, two others, killed in separate encounters

Lashkar-e-Taiba militans responsible for Amreen Bhat’s death, two others, killed in separate encounters Srinagar: Four Lashkar-e-Toiba militants, including two who were involved in killing a female TV artist, were killed in two separate encounters in Pulwama and Srinagar districts of Jammu and Kashmir, police said on Friday.An encounter broke out at Aganhanzipora locality in Awantipora area of…

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@chxmxbxby

text starters > status :: accepting

@23fps

He'd spent the better part of the day rehearsing with his bandmates in an underused garage that had seen better days. Tomorrow was a makeshift show planned for the inner workings of a gutted basement on the outskirts of Shibuya. The gig was casual at best, and they expected no money from it, but they appreciated the exposure for what it was. Their trips to Tokyo were more frequent now that Satoshi had finished with university, and felt very little guilt spending weeks at a time plucking his bass. 

On the other hand, Yosuke found himself in the capital city more often than not. His girlfriend's registration as a student of Todai gave him as good an excuse as any to spend much of his time in the bustling city, while sidestepping complaints on his parents' end. Although Yokosuka was his hometown, and the salt from the bay would always be stuck to his skin, Tokyo had more to offer to appease his juvenile delinquencies. His hometown had an impressive reggae scene, one he could never deny, but the band enjoyed more opportunities hustled in the capital that brimmed with prosperity and potential. Living in any of the districts seemed like a far off possibility at the time, he made just enough money from his dead end factory job to fund his frivolities and barely anything more. Even at twenty two, Yosuke had yet to truly concern himself with his future, but he much preferred it that way. 

Just as he did now, where he replaced the musky interior of the garage with the barely lit izakaya known for its fluctuating crowd. On the weekdays it was often frequented by older men, some with loosened suits and ties, while the weekends were reserved for the barely out of school and those who hadn't touched a textbook in years. Yosuke was a part of the latter. The bartender was a staunchly dressed man who knew him by stubble and the asahi he made a repetitive point of ordering whenever he settled in close to the bar. Tonight was no different, his beanie was set askew on his head, and the calluses on his fingers hard, but he was pleased. After hours with the band, he needed some time to himself, so where the rest of the members headed off to a party, he went out for a drink. He liked the hushed conversations and the yellow light that lit up the wooden bar beneath his arms. To say his attention was rapt on his drink wouldn't be entirely true, as he sent side glances to the woman sat a barstool down from where he'd made himself comfortable. 

She donned the sort of air that allowed him to acknowledge the fact he'd never seen her before. He'd remember the aura. But there was a haze of familiarity to her porcelain profile that led him to believe he'd seen her somewhere, so he took to blatantly staring instead. Teeth tucked around the rim of his glass. "I know you?" Voice husked, he hadn't ever been above sidestepping protocol. And perhaps that had been his first mistake for without a moment's notice, a shoulder was suddenly lodged into his side and his glass teetered and fell to the bar. Alcohol now spilt, Yosuke was far from impressed and shoving the apparently drunk man who tottered this way and that. The bartender soon left his post behind the bar and redirected the drunkard back outside, leaving Yosuke with apologies and promises he would serve him another. On the house. 

Following the stream of beer that trailed across the flat surface, he watched it reach the stranger's elbow and pool close to her skin. Mouth pursed, he made a quick move for a napkin and slowly mopped up the liquid with a long sigh. "S'fuckin' mess.. you need this?" Yosuke now contemplated the unused napkin before the familiar stranger. He'd run out.

bxrnhxter

Here we go again. Yosuke went after another thief in the city of Seoul and all Mei could ever do was sit and watch — the guy was heavily stubborn — it made the woman irritable. Not because of how they thought they were a ‘superhero’ like the Batman series or Superman, but because they were risking their life. It was silly to her, they just recently met and the whole outlook of life the man had made her upset. The guy had a lot to look forward to even if the male was a few years older than the female escort.

A few hours had passed and no sign of them. She chewed on her lip and she grabbed her car keys, sliding on her beige trench coat as she slammed the door behind her. The clacking of her heels hitting the marble floor when she ran echoed down the hallway and as soon as she slid into her vehicle, she revved the engine without mercy. Backing out of the car not caring of any cars in sight, her wheels squealed and she drove toward the city in search for the lunatic (or so she considered him that at this point).

The woman chewed on her lip nervously, sure that skin would break. Traffic was horrible for what had happened — two thieves breaking into a wealthy jewelry and taking one of their most valuable jewels caused havoc. Mei glanced around and gawked her head with sharp eyes in hopes to see Yosuke. Tears began to well up as she remembered countless times the arguments she had gotten with them about this heroic act of theirs.

As soon as the traffic began to loosen, she revved up the engine again cutting car by car until she caught glimpse of who she thought was her friend. Making a sharp u-turn, she stopped once the female watched the other intently. With her peripheral vision she could see the two thieves cornering him and they weren’t going to give up without a fight. Mei jumped out of her vehicle without closing her door and she ran.

Hoping her long slender legs would get her to the man quicker, her eyes widened at the sight of a lethal weapon, more than likely if they had good aim it would kill the other. Breathing shakily, she jumped when the gunshot was heard and tackled Yosuke down onto the ground; sirens now being heard and the cowards beginning to run — dropping their precious bag with their so ‘prized possession’.

With her heart pounding into her chest and the male now looking up at her in shock as they laid on their back on the dirtied pavement, “How many times do I have to tell you to stop this heroic act, you idiot!” By the looks of the other, they knew they were in trouble — and by a small woman. Little did Yosuke know, she had never risked her life for anyone. And never did she think she’d care so much about the man under her. Eyes welling up in tears, she punched the man in the chest, “Don’t ever do it again!”

Mei Xin's involvement had been accidental at first.

He retreated from his first and badly executed act of vigilantism bruised and thirsty for something stronger than soda. The club was close so he found himself an empty seat and bought himself a bunch of beers. Their relationship was a slow burning one to say the least. Initially he had been tense, dubious, unsure as to what to make of the escort, a fact he'd learned on his own. But over time and weary conversations, he found himself enjoying her company for what it simply was, a drink and traded words, talks of her life in China, anecdotes from his in Japan. In turn, making it all the easier for him to reveal the source of his battered condition and the beginning of their inexplicable story.

This time he'd been rather confident. A few good deeds executed the week before where he'd gotten vengeance for a vandalized senior home, and re-stole an mp3 player from the bully of a victimized teen terrorized for his scrawny legs. In spite of everything Yosuke believed, it made him feel quite good, and he utilized the pulsing sense of accomplishment to race after a figure donned in black. Somewhere between street chasing and following the strangely fit thief down various corners, he called her in an early show of gloat. To say he had expected her arrival wouldn't have been the complete truth, she was adamantly against his endeavours, and he saw no reason as why it was skin off Mei Xin's back. Of course his train of thoughts were rudely derailed when he skidded to a stop, another man slowly appearing from the darkness of a dumpster at his back, while the original stood before him, proud with himself. It was moments such as these that Yosuke resigned to himself that this vigilante gig of his was perhaps not the smartest thing he'd done in the last few years, but the idea of danger didn't sting the back of his neck like it used to.  

Instead adrenaline formed a self-assured grin across his lips, but his brows were to soon crinkle in confusion as the squeal of tires filled his ears. Turning to pinpoint the noise was his saving grace, whether or not he knew it, but pain bloomed down the side of his arm as Mei Xin catapulted out of seemingly nowhere and tackled him to asphalt. The gunshot should've been more of a surprise than it was, the sound doesn't shock him, but the bang ricocheted between his ears, deafening him for a long beat. He couldn't hear the suspects run, but he noted their shadows move further away and saw the clunky backpack fall at their feet.

Groaning in rusty exaggeration, he sat up, hair in disarray and face crumbled into something like dissatisfaction. He was far from pleased. But he had no time to say as much as she took the stage to speak, and it was a string of words he'd heard plenty before. Keeping himself from rolling his eyes, he tested his arm instead, bending it with a hiss but deciding it was more than likely superficial. Unfazed by the woman's hysterics, he blinked, expression blank but for the purse of his lips as he realized sirens were wailing in close. They couldn't be found, with his anonymity in danger, he caught her fist before she could punch him again and pulled her off the pavement with a dark look. Quickly checking the contents of the backpack, his mouth dropped at the glitter of jewelry and slide of cash. Temptation shuddered in the back of his head, but he steeled himself against greed and set the abused bag on the curb before he shoved her towards her vehicle.

Yosuke's success had very little to do with belief, as many of his viewers suspended it on a weekly basis. His own skepticism was all too apparent through the television screen and it was just as he preferred. At first glance, or so he was told, he didn't look the sort of man to involve himself in such a sphere, but he supposed that couldn't have come as a surprise. This strange hobby he'd found for himself was never one he'd dreamt about as a kid. Preoccupied with reggae, his guitar and the like, he'd never found time for the pseudoscience until high school with a handful of friends.

Always the skeptic in their makeshift groups, he and a few classmates from the same homeroom took to scoping abandoned warehouses, aquariums, and a dilapidated love hotel run out of business by a spree of deaths in their hometown of Yokosuka. Recollection reminded him that they'd done very little in their adventures but scare themselves, but as the years progressed, for one reason or another, so did Yosuke's interest. Though unsure as to what his burgeoning enthusiasm in the paranormal meant for his life after graduation, he invested a considerably increasing time in research, sharing methods and stories with other paranormal skeptics on the web. He couldn't quite understand how it happened even after three years on the air, but his haphazardly shot collection of youtube videos following his adventures gained notoriety across the web.

In his hometown he was better known as 'skeptic' than he was Yosuke, and one balmy summer evening he was approached by a man who looked skeevy at best. Pressing a business card into his calloused hands, the sweat stained man swore to something bigger than Yosuke's follies on the net if he came to Tokyo. Settled into the chaos of contract signings and the search for televised legitimacy, his life panned out into a career of skepticism and equipment he couldn't normally afford. But of course with slow growing infamy came a wider audience, and with it came the vague chatter of a korean counterpart who grew at a similar rate as he. Research identified the counterpart as a woman named Taehyun, and time proved to be a weary consort as they were pitched as rival competitors. He learnt her full name the first time he'd arrived in Korea for a one day investigation of the Neulbom Garden, and finally watched her show to completion on a hotel television screen in Seoul. She was abnormally attractive for someone in the paranormal circle he thought, but worse was the fact she relied on a "sixth sense". Immediately dubious, he barely made it to the end of the episode, and was unsurprised to learn his bosses were pushing for a korean takeover.

What concerned him was the gradual reveal his extended stay would require a two part series with Taehyun, the very same investigator he had grown an unenthused distaste for. His company was well aware, and hoped to milk their hostile tension for all to see. Yosuke couldn't help but wonder if the producers cared anything for the Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital they were to explore. Unwilling to see an opportunity like this slip through regretful fingers though, the establishment was well known for its atmosphere and strange string of unexplained deaths, preparations were swift. He took to avoiding Taehyun for as long as was physically possible until the night of their investigation where they were to meet in the small city of Gwangju.

He arrived with a skeleton crew, one young woman who spoke a fair amount of both languages who would man the camera, and a man closer to his age in charge of audio production. It was a crew Yosuke was unused to as he normally investigated on his own with the help of a handy cam. They parked on a main street and carried a case of equipment to the site, guided by a drawn on map, and a trail of snow and leaves that careened through skeletal trees and slopes to a clearing where the abandoned hospital stood. A permit had been acquired for the exploration, and as he lugged a case filled with investigative tools to a pre-prepared tent, he prayed Taehyun had yet to arrive.

He wasn't a religious man.

“Coupons for cigarettes. That’s what they need. I’m getting too poor for this shit.” The last bit was a breathy husk, sincere albeit delayed. He pulled out another smoke. He’d be lucky if ten were left. Talking to himself was a habit best left for the past or better explained by alcohol, but he had neither to use as a reason. Yosuke decided he had grown too much to care for what most others thought of him.