The Perfect Assassin || Chapter One: Gone.
Taking up his post in the hotel room above his target, Doojoon snapped his gun together and rested it on the bed. The open windows cooled the room as he headed to the sink in the rather small bathroom, quickly splashing some water on his face. It soothed the tension a little as his temples relaxed. Staring at himself in the mirror, he adjusted his tie, messing with it a little before yanking it off and shoving it into his pocket.
“Yoon?” A voice called in his earpiece. A new accent and someone who didn’t understand how his name worked. He didn’t mind. Yoon would be good enough for now.
“Yes,” he replied, wandering back into the main room and snatching his gun from the bed, double checking that it was loaded.
“Target will be in your sight in 3 minutes, are you ready?”
“Yes,” he repeated, taking up position in the window. His English was limited, but he didn’t have much need to say anything else.
Carefully, his eyes scanned the street below watching the people as they passed, not knowing that the predator was waiting above to take out one of their crowd. As the target emerged, Doojoon took up his aim staring for a moment while the people around him cleared.
“YOON! Hold fire!” The voice came back in and Doojoon relaxed his shoulders, scowling a little before raising his hand to his ear.
“Wae?” He asked, his tone holding a new sharpness.
“The target isn’t alone…and you’re being watched.”
Doojoon took a moment to translate what was being said before quickly moving out of sight of the window, covering himself behind the wall. Just then, a bullet shattered the window he was previously sitting at, piercing the wall across from him. Doojoon dropped to his knees and crawled across the floor, taking cover behind the couch.
“Yoon, are you ok?” The voice in the earpiece asked, taking on a more concerned tone. “Yoon?”
“Ne,” he replied, slipping into his native tongue. “Yes, I’m fine. Is the shooter still there?”
“No, it looks like they’ve disappeared.”
“And the target?” He asked, hoping his English was correct.
Doojoon stood up, quickly taking his gun apart and grabbing it’s case from the couch. Placing the pieces in their delegated places, he clipped the case shut and exited the room, leaving everything as it should be.
The boom of the door slamming behind him, echoed down the hallway as made his way to the stairwell. But something stopped him. He could hear more than one set of footsteps in the hallway, and no one was in front of him. His hand went to reach for the hand gun in his holster.
“Move any part of your body and I shoot,” the voice behind him called. Doojoon froze and raised his hands. He made a mental note of the persons voice. Female. Mid-range. Unrecognisable accent.
“Am I your target?” Doojoon asked, eyeing the door to the staircase.
“You are,” the girl replied, her voice moving closer to him.
“Then why haven’t you shot me yet?” He asked, ignoring the voice in his earpiece as it begged him to respond.
“I-” Before she could finish, Doojoon took off attempting to dodge her bullets before yanking his own gun from his pocket and heading down the stairwell. His legs carried him all the way to the bottom before he met his correspondent on the way out, running into his pick up van and slamming the doors behind him. Laying on his back in the back of the van, Doojoon shut his eyes as his American correspondent looked him over, noticing a growing patch of red on his shirt.
“Back to base,” the man said, ripping Doojoon’s shirt open to examine the wound. “He’s hurt.”
