#fr0ntman

it will always amaze him how the phones actually work around this place . well , not really , there's an inside web of connection that only specific people can use and the recruiter was one of them . he visits when he's invited , most of the times he is ─ his phone vibrates and inho's name lights up : ' bossss ' . no words leave his lips when he answers , sending the rooster vip a small smile or understanding as he whispers ' sorry sorry ' , he kind of cut his stupid ramble off when he answered his phone . inho's voice from the other side , firm and demanding , knowing yejun will listen . both because he would rather spend his midnight with inho rather than this man . and because he has to obey .

took too many risks . he took too many risks out in the open , his little personal pleasures seemed to interfere with the security of the games and while the recruiter knew his limits , some days he was a little distracted . so this isn't just about business , no , anyone could tell — the hand around his neck feels like interrogation ; why did you approach the man we told you not to ? it was a dangerous thing to disobey , the man he recruited last week for the upcoming squid game was on the blacklist of their potential players , but yejun stared at him , thought to himself the bastard had to live through and die in this hell . just some trash , why did he get so lucky ? now he's seated on the chair of his own little torture room , classic music playing in the background as the leader circles around his chair .

“is that what all this hooplah is about?” he asks, forever unruffled by his current situation. maybe he’s getting a little too old for all of this, but very high on that thought process is he’s very much in denial. bond offers a well-placed charming smile as he studies his host. perhaps captor (?)— he’s altogether unsure of what the other man has planned; he’s a difficult read.

a calculated hand is placed on his upper arm, a squeeze as bond takes a half step closer. “there are quite a number of easier ways to get my attention, I assure you.” He drawls, accent crisp; eyes flashing briefly away from the other as he takes in his surroundings.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ FROM A COUPLE OF MEMES; commands & kp.dh;;  *** if you do turn into a thread, please do so on a new post! ***

ㅤㅤ𝓣he pink guard gave a prompt nod- one that could be seen from behind the black mask and hood. The system ran on a tight schedule, and it depended on every staff member doing their jobs in an efficient and perfect execution. It felt almost comical that she was still here a few years after joining their ranks. Albeit it was on the low end of the workers, Eun still had jobs to complete. When given orders from the boss, himself- she had best listen. At times, she still questioned whether or not it was appropriate for her to answer him or not. The statement itself could be left unanswered or not. Having already given a nod, she took that as her answer. Not wanting to make a fool of herself or him, for that matter.

ㅤㅤ𝓑rows furrowed slightly from behind the mask as she listened to the Front Man state that it was time for a new strategy. It worried her. What did he have in mind? His mind was full of dangerous ideas- sparing her life included. She had seen and heard what he was capable of, and her mind raced with outcomes if it was regarding the games themselves, or personal matters such as staffing. Eun drew in a breath and held it for a moment. Letting the tension linger for some time. ❝I-Is there anything you wish for me to do—?❞ A pause. ❝—For your new strategy?❞ Her lungs exhaled slowly, trying to remain as silent as she could.

the world changes, and takes with it only those who are capable of adapting. dae-ho looks to the sky with eyes no longer capable of meaningful remorse: with little deliberation, he says look at the weapon you have made of me, aren't you satisfied? isn't this exactly what you wanted? for he is one fortunate enough to move along with the evils of the world, absorb ideology shoved down his throat as new reality. inside the games, days blend together as one, a melange of despair. duties are carried out as they are given; he who perches nearest the skybox in red light, green light, stares down onto the flock of game flitting about the playing field. orders bark in through the earpiece. he peers through the scope. takes the shot. never an allocated moment of gratuity or hesitation. good soldier, good son.

to be met with intimation of one-on-one with the frontman prickles insecurity into his skin. he has seen how business plays out, seen bullets fired directly into the temples of those that dared to oppose. those that failed their objectives were eliminated without penitence, just as the players had been. the words of his superior resonate, coaxing new stiffness at his spine. may this herein be considered authority to speak back ? dae-ho is his best self when crushed beneath the demands of higher authority.