Blood. There was so much blood. Blood on the floor, blood on his shoes, blood on his jacket, blood on his knife, blood on his hands. So much blood. Yoongi dipped a hand in the think red substance that coated the floor, bringing it back up and pressing it on the chest of his victim. He took his knife, tracing around his hand with the blade and lifting his hand away when he was done. His handprint, bloody and red, was perfectly carved into the man's chest and Yoongi rose to his feet. No reason to stay longer than necessary. He trudged out of the house, not bothering to swing the door shut behind him. 

Let them know, he thought, let them know that their poor excuse of a soldier was taken. He stuffed his still blood-coated hands in his pockets and made his way down the street. He was the boss of his gang, appointed leader after many years of bloodthirsty combat. He knew that, as boss, he didn't have to kill. He had soldiers to do that for him. But he enjoyed killing, as sick as it sounded. He loved the feeling of hurting those who had wronged him. he rounded, the corner, stopping short to let two children run by. They headed into the public library and Yoongi scoffed. Books. Boring, useless, wastes of time. Almost as soon as the children went into the library, a sleek black car pulled into the parking lot. He recognized it as his members car, the underboss of his large gang. Hoseok stepped out of the car, heading up the stairs of the library.

Yoongi jogged over, catching Hoseok by the arm and watching as his eyes widened.

"Really man? The library? You're the underboss of a gang, not a teenage girl looking for romance. What are you doing here?"

Hoseok rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the floor. 

"I was going to pick up a book on Latin. I wanted to learn to speak it."

"Latin?"

"I don't know, it just sounds cool!"

Yoongi snorted, shaking his head at the younger man.

"Whatever. I'll come with you as long as you're quick. I wouldn't mind a ride back."

Hoseok nodded, resuming his ascent to the library. Yoongi followed, breathing in the scent of books that hung heavy in the air inside the building. He couldn't deny, he loved the smell of books. He trailed after the younger man, brushing dust off of the tops of a few books as he went. 

In the language aisle, you stood on a wooden ladder, shelving books. A few for the Spanish section, one for the Russian section, several for the English section. You heard their feet before you saw them, darkly dressed men with hands heavily clad in rings. Your nose scrunched at the metallic smell of blood before you noticed that the shorter of the two men seemed to be covered by it. You tried to keep your gasp to a minimum, but in the library, they heard you. One raised an eyebrow while the other, the one covered on blood, just scowled.

"Don't ask questions sweetheart. It's not your place."

Your eyebrows furrowed and you climbed down from the ladder to stand firmly on the ground. 

"Sir, you're covered in blood, and by the fact that you're not limping, and don't seem injured yourself, it's not yours. I'm going to have to report you for this."

Perhaps you should have taken some time to think about your setting before you threatened them. The town you lived in was one heavily riddled with gangs and thugs, you should have probably just let it go and pretended not to have seen anything. But of course, you spoke without thinking. 

The men let out breathy laughs before advancing on you, and you realized with horror that you were dead ended. Shelves and a wall blocked your only escape and you flattened yourself against the wall. They each grabbed one of your arms and the shorter of the two clamped a hand over your mouth with his blood-covered hand. You squirmed, letting out muffled whimpers as the men carried you to the bathroom oh-so-conveniently located just at the end of the aisle that you three were in. No one was around to see them drag you into a stall and slam your head against the toilet, knocking you out. They lifted your body through the small window at the top of the bathroom and slid out after you, lugging your body into the back of their car.