#ver-dot

“OOH, MR. VELD, OOOH~”

He was drowning in velvet the color of old blood, a hellish den of stale sweat mixed with the sharp acrid aroma of hard liquor and tobacco smoke, when Veld had shown up. Hadn’t even kicked down the door and rushed in like the Public Security grunts might, the way he’d imagined they would have months ago. Had lost hope for saving any of them by that point, because Masa worked with all the big names in Wall Market’s supply chain. The scumbag always had a veritable army of little girls slithering all over him, refilling his plum wine and taking hits from the same gold-handled pipe. Most of them were already heavy smokers or drinkers, or both- purpling track marks decorating their arms like bruises decorated his face and torso from his hyung’s special brand of ‘tough love’. 

It was Kato who dropped first, just went limp like a ragdoll- a marionette whose string had been cut. Then Shige. All hard men, professionals in the worst senses of the word, just... dying like roaches in the middle of a house fumigation. The girls stopped whipping their clothes off and stared with their dead, jaundiced eyes, like bloomed gelatin sitting over two pools of nara ink.

Six more half-wits with more muscles than brains tried their luck and Veld ripped them apart like a slow moving hurricane. No, it was more like the Turk was moving normally and everyone else had been cursed with a whammy of a Slow spell, leaden limbs trying to force their way through ocean water. 

Veld’s fists just crunched into people’s necks, their temples, his hands snapped bone like they were dead twigs, and one guy had his kneecap smashed in so bad, he broke his own neck falling down onto one of the tables.

It was like a movie, poetry in motion- Or Hell, even a dance. If ballet involved murder, then he’d be the fucking grand prima-ballerina. 

Masa was crippled with just as little fanfare, his switchblade flying back and embedding itself into the fabric of the booth seating. He was begging and pleading for his life, Jae-hyo swore he might even have seen tears glimmering on his sharp cheekbones like diamonds in the club’s strobing lights.

He was as good as dead, but Yoon grabbed that knife like a switch flicked on in his brain and turned all of the lights back on. Jamming his hand beneath Masa’s chin, he pulled swedge of the wicked blade through his neck, even sawing it in hard just to make sure the bastard was extra dead.

Veld had just watched and gave him a look- just the barest tilt of the chin in a nod like ‘Yeah, you did the right thing, kid.’

-

A hard clap on the shoulder and Jae woke up, startled with his nostrils filled with the phantom aroma of gunsmoke and blood. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes, wiping away any specks of dirt that had gathered at the corners. 

“I’m good,” he states casually, cracking his neck by giving a slow roll of his head to loosen up his cramped muscles. Being strapped into a helicopter always managed to jack up his posture something fierce.

He ducked his head as they disembarked, glancing at his company issued flip phone to check the time.

@ver-dot

The aroma is disgusting and sweet, foul and steaky… Coppery notes from burst iron-rich blood vessels and fire-consumed cerebrospinal fluid suffocates the area with a musky odor mixed with the sulfurous stink of burning hair and nails. The smell can be so thick and rich that it’s very nearly a taste.

Jae wishes he didn’t recognize that smell. The sharp, acrid kick of kaoliang wine usually accompanied it- Being prime fuel to the literal fire. He’d seen a mother and her child drenched in the stuff, huddled and shivering together in a corner like frightened pups. Eyes so white and wide, they peeled straight back into their foreheads watching the lit match drop.

It was the screaming he couldn’t take. Never men. Always women and kids.

Most of the townsfolk had been run through and probably died of organ rupture and blood loss before the flames even touched them.

“Sir?”

He snaps his PHS closed, picking up the pace to mirror the elder man’s stride. The mansion was supposed to have been abandoned for quite some time, but he wasn’t surprised if that had been false information. Still, the outside looks as decrepit and ancient as ever... One sneeze and the whole place might collapse on their heads.

Somehow, it felt colder inside the manor than they had been outside, directly exposed to the wind and the chill. He didn’t voice it, but if any location looked like it was fucking haunted, this would be it.

Steeling his shoulders, Yoon shadowed Verdot and tried to focus on the task at hand. They probably had to destroy evidence, which was par the course. Honestly, it probably would have been easier to just bulldoze the entire lot and then set it on fire, but alas.

It was stuffy and dark, the very air was probably filling both of their lungs with some strain of toxic mold. Jae swore he saw the sad remains of a bird hanging from some dusty noose of spider silk.