Please note that this scene involves abuse. Read on at your own discretion.
“You failed,” Angelo said, striking him with the back of his hand. Heavy gold and silver rings bit into his jaw and cheek and Shin Il had to fight the urge to smile. Clearly, Angelo wasn’t thrilled about what happened. He sent the word down to kill that bastard, Myo In Sung and here Shin Il was, unable to kill him. No, he got away. Sneaky bastard. Somehow, he managed to get away and although Shin Il tried to hunt him down for a good few hours afterward, he couldn’t find him. The city was too large and even though Shin Il knew the area well, he still wasn’t able to ferret out any possible hiding places. He deserved every smack he got, every derogatory term…
But he couldn’t smile. No, he couldn’t smile at all.
“You know what happens to failures… I know you do,” Angelo said, gripping his hair tight in his hand as their eyes met. Yeah, yeah. Failures got punished. Now this was the tricky part because he couldn’t enjoy the punishment too much or they would catch on. The look in Angelo’s eyes was hard this time, though, and there was something new and dangerous there. Had he caught on now? Did somebody tell him something? His gaze was sharp as a hawk and Shin Il stared too long–he was rewarded with a hard shove back and away. The harsh movement wrenched his neck and shoulder and he didn’t have to hold back the seething little hiss of pain that elicited in his still broken arm. Ahh…
“This is your third strike,” Angelo said, looking down at him with flat eyes, disappointed eyes. Yes, this was the third guy who escaped. But of the other two, he did eventually get them when punished and given a second chance. Besides, his work usually went well. Three out of however many he had been given since he became a hitman? Better than most! But Angelo looked dead serious, his jaw tense.
“We can’t afford this many errors at this point in the game, little Shinny. I don’t think you get it. That asshole’s been taking down some of our best and there’s just no way we can allow him to live. You had your chance and you blew it. So…” Angelo brought out a gun and pointed it at Shin Il’s head, between the eyes. Even Shin Il knew what that meant but death and pain, those weren’t the same. He had too much left to just let Angelo blow him away now.
Gathering together whatever water he could, he flung it hard in the direction of the gun. Just as it went off, the water hardened and sliced through the air, cutting Angelo’s hand clean off.
“FUCK!” Angelo shouted, immediately grabbing for his bleeding stump of a hand. Wasting no time, Shin Il dropped down to grab the gun, prying the hand from it and taking it in hand before he aimed the gun first at Angelo’s shoulder, his chest, his knee, and then finally smirked as he pointed it at his nose. The last thing he heard was Angelo’s cry as he ate lead and dropped to the ground in a pool of his own blood. He heard voices down the hall, however, and he had no time to waste. They had to know something went wrong when they heard so many voices. Damn it. Why did he have to relish the violence so much?
Skidding out of the room, he went down the hall and through the first door he saw. Lucky day. It led to the stairwell. He moved up rather than down; they would be expecting anybody running to go down. Up, up, he ran until he made it to the rooftop, where he shut the door behind him as quietly as he could. He threw the gun over the ledge and heard it clatter into a garbage can. He looked over the ledge himself. He was six stories up. Jumping wasn’t an option if he actually wanted to make it alive. So he turned his gaze around to the building next door. The jump was dangerous, too but… It was about his only option.
He started at a run and he jumped. His heart was in his throat as he leapt through the air. He landed on the other side, hitting it with his knee and rolling over onto his broken arm. He sucked in a breath as he rolled onto his back and that was when he heard somebody coming up on the rooftop he just left. Quickly, he slid over to the very edge of the new roof, pressing against the side. They probably couldn’t see him, and who would think he would have jumped rooftops if they didn’t see him running like an idiot? Still, he held his breath as he listened to shouts and then heard the rooftop door close again.
Still, he didn’t move, remaining where he was, watching his own rooftop, every part that he could see. His eyes darted around from one spot to the next. Then he heard the rooftop door across from him close again. Still nothing. Nothing. He didn’t know how long he lay there before he finally got up, but there was nobody on the other rooftop and nobody on his. Slowly, he made his way to the rooftop door and listened carefully as he descended the steps.
Eventually, he made it out of the red light district but he quickly dodged into a shop where he could buy a hoodie and pull it on. Not too fishy, given where he was. He skulked through the shadows of the alleyways until he found himself near the edge of the territory. Then he was crossing over. Still nothing, yet he didn’t breathe a sigh of relief just yet. Finally, he made it to a little diner, where he edged into a hidden booth near the back. Now what? Now what?
Note: The title of this came from the song Error by Madeline Juno. I highly recommend giving it a listen. Check it out here: Error – Madeline Juno!
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