Jimin was holding a knife and his hand did not shake. Yes, he remembered the pictures of that night, but it was watered-down and more like the memory of a bad dream than something that had actually happened.

"Knew it," the Hawk said flatly and left him alone with the instruction to cut the ingredients for their Kimchi stew. Jimin wanted to object and tell him that this meant nothing but that his mind was managing the trauma, but the man did not look like he was in the mood to argue. He looked like the Hawk and not like Ahn, so he decided to obey quietly.

While Jimin cut away, the other was printing something out and sticking it to the whiteboards that covered one of the apartment walls. Jimin wanted to take a look, but if he turned his head too often, he was concerned that the Hawk would call him out on it or he would cut his fingers with the knife, so he only glanced over whenever he was busy with washing his hands or the blade.

What the Hawk assembled looked like the walls his department created for active cases. Pictures of people, cars, places. Some notes Jimin would have to read later from up closer.

"What's that?" he asked although he had a very good idea what this meant.

"I have to kill this man," the Hawk replied bluntly.

Shit. Albeit Jimin had guessed as much, he did not know what an appropriate reaction to this was. What would a normal person ask? "Why?" he tried.

"Second rule: never ask why," was the answer he got.

The Hawk had to kill someone, and he had the rule never to ask why, which meant it was not his own motivation that led him to do such a violation of the law. Now every idiot must get what was going on here, so there was no need to play dumb anymore. "You're a killer," Jimin stated.

The Hawk did not even twitch, just plastered another picture on the whiteboard. "I prefer hitman," he said bored. "A killer murders whoever. I only kill for money. I do not get pleasure from it."

As weird as it should have been to talk with a murderer about semantics, it was strangely reassuring to know that the Hawk did not enjoy killing people. That the man was killing anyway was scary on another level, but Jimin would not allow himself to think that far, yet. "Is that why I'm still alive?" he asked before thinking.

His question was met with an unsettling silence before the Hawk said, "You proved that you can kill a man, too. You are not completely spineless, so I am still contemplating what to do with you. Consider it a test."

A test for what? Whether Jimin was hitman material? If the Hawk decided that he was good enough, would he become his apprentice? But what if he failed the test, what then? Then he would die. Obviously. Because that was the only logical consequence. If he was not good enough, he was deadweight, and deadweight had to be disposed of.

Unless he could be of different use. The back of his head itched at the idea of becoming the Hawk's bedwarmer, but his lower regions remembered very well which pleasure came with doing just that. It had not been bad after all. The Hawk was an excellent lover, and Jimin found himself thinking that he would do it again should the need to do so arise. He did not want to know what that said about him.

Pushing the thought away for now he focused back on the whiteboards. If the Hawk wanted to test him, he should better show that he was capable. "Who's this guy?" he wanted to know.

The hitman's lips curled into a devious smile. Jimin hated it. "Shin Taeksoo," the man answered.

"That's it?" Jimin asked with a frown. "That's all you know?"

"Why are you suddenly so interested?" the other asked mischievously, and Jimin's blood began to coil with anger. Why? This asshole was really asking why?

"Aren't you supposed to know more?" he asked snappishly. "Like, what he does, how old he is, family?"

"46. Works for a law firm in Busan, specialized in business law. He has a wife half his age who is a model," the Hawk provided. "Do you want to know his shoes size and the tailor he gets his suits from?"

"Uh," Jimin said confused, his anger faltering. "You know those?" That seemed a little overboard even for a hitman.

"No, but I can ask for them," the other replied bored.

"A-Ask?" Jimin wondered. So the Hawk was not acquiring the info on his targets by himself? Where did he get them from then? Did he have intelligence all over the country? It was not unthinkable for a man of his caliber. But then he would have to have intelligence in Japan and China as well, and that was slightly more questionable. "Ask whom?" he inquired.

"The organization gives me what I need," was the casual answer that sent a cold shock through Jimin. Organization. Rules. Holy shit. The Hawk was not a freelancer, he was a damn pawn in a bigger game. Hell, Jimin had jumped headfirst into an organized hitman company, one that the police had never gotten wind of. How big? How many more were there that the force did not know of?

"If it makes you feel better-" the Hawk began, but Jimin interrupted him.

"I think I don't want to know more," he stopped the information flow. If he was told too much, he would most definitely end up dead, no matter how he wiggled his ass for the hitman. Because if the organization found out about him and he did not want to become part of them, some hitman -even if it was not the Hawk- would sure take care of him. It was either deeper down the rabbit hole, more death, more killing, or it was stopping here and trying everything to keep the Hawk entertainer with him until someone could pull him out of this.

"Are you sure you do not want to know more?" the hitman asked, thumping at the picture of the lawyer.

Jimin contemplated whether the info on the target would get him killed but came to the conclusion that this was necessary to pass the Hawk's test. Just nothing more on the organization, he decided. "What more's there to know?" he asked.

"Just a bit to make it easier for you," the hitman said like he knew that Jimin was struggling with the fact that he had killed someone, even if it had been for his own good, especially because it had been for his own good. He still felt disgusted by himself. "He is a lawyer who helps the Yakuza. Someone wants those lawyers gone with a boom," the Hawk offered for sedation.

And Jimin's face froze. Yakuza? Lawyers? Had Oh Chanwoo been one of them? Had Jimin cried after a man who dealt with Yakuza stuff? Discomfort overcame him at the thought. Had he heedlessly thrown himself into the bed of a killer because he had been upset over a criminal's death? The realization tasted bitter.

But that did not change the fact that someone like the Hawk should not exist, and much less an organization that scheduled deaths like medical appointments. Who the fuck created something like that? Those people were directly selling death like it was a good. Not weapons, that could be used to intimidate, not drugs, that could be consumed for joy as well, no, death in its irreversible form. As a company. And they had the resources to get intel on anyone. How far did their network reach? Into the police forces as well? Jimin begged that it did not, but who knew? How long would it take until the Hawk had intel on him?

He wanted to call Ms. Kim to tell her about it. He wanted to talk to someone who could tell him how to handle this shitty situation without ending up as a dead body. And he wanted to quit the department. He had thought that it would feel good to chase down those people who did the really nasty stuff that hurt many people and left behind a mass of direct and indirect victims, but he was only scared. So damn scared all the time. This situation was quickly growing over his head, had been too big for him from the start, and he wanted out. Out before that organization figured out who he was.

"Everything alright?" the hitman asked from directly behind him and Jimin jumped in shock and dropped the spoon he had been stirring the frying onions with. Shit.

Concerned eyes looked at him when the other lifted the tool from the floor and Jimin relaxed a little at the sight of humanity in the black orbs. This was Ahn, this was fine. "We need to visit Busan for the job," the man said like he was talking about a normal business trip. "Can we use your car?"

For a moment Jimin felt anger sparking over the panic in his stomach at the mentioning of using his car for a mission again, but then he remembered that said car had a tracker. This was his way out. All he had to do was to tell the team that they should look out for the car's movement and make a plan to rescue him.

But he could not be easily swayed, or the Hawk would become suspicious. After all, the last time he had lend his car, that man had crashed it. And he needed time in his flat to make the call.

"If we get my things, too," he bargained.

Ahn did not seem too pleased with that.

"The key's in my apartment anyway," Jimin argued. Bless their team for deciding that he should pretend that it was his own car in order to stay in character. "Just let me grab some clothes."

"Fine," the other gave in and Jimin congratulated himself internally. He could contact Ms. Kim from his private phone and tell her to follow the tracker, and then he would play along until someone came to rescue him. Hopefully, the Hawk would not think that making Jimin kill the lawyer was a good idea to test him.

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Jimin had not thought of the possibility that Ahn would follow him into his flat, but the man had insisted on tagging along, so now he was standing in front of his door with sweaty hands and his mind racing how he should send a secret message to Ms. Kim with the hitman watching over his shoulder.

"Do you have coffee?" Ahn asked when the door clicked open.

"Yeah," Jimin breathed and his mind settled on a solution. "But no botted stuff. I only drink fresh coffee. You'll have to make some." He gestured the other to the kitchen.

The other hummed and went along with his idea. "Pack your things. Hurry."

Jimin nodded and vanished in the bedroom. His private phone had been in the top drawer the last time he had checked, so he ripped the nightstand open to confirm and indeed found it. It had no battery anymore though, so he reached for the charger cable to plug it in for a minute or so, so that he could start it.

In the time it would take, he tore open his closet and began to stuff shirts and trousers with some underwear into a sports bag. When he saw his Class A uniform, he took it and threw it under the bed, then he charged over into the bathroom to pack toiletries. The Hawk could be heard measuring water into the machine, so he had still some time.

"Do you have a mug to-go?" the raspy voice suddenly asked through the gap in the bathroom door and Jimin jumped startled before turning around to the other and thinking. Did he leave his mug at the bureau or was it here? He could not remember. But the Hawk had to stay in the kitchen.

"I don't. You can use the empty water bottles though," he suggested, proud of his fast thinking. "Under the sink are a few empty bottles."

Ahn nodded and vanished again.

Jimin grabbed what he had packed and walked back into the bedroom to check his phone. It started when he pressed the power button and he unlocked it with shaking hands to find Ms. Kim's contact.

But when the empty typing box opened, he did not know what to write. I want out, track me? Save me? How would the force accomplish that? They could not break into the Hawk's hotel room to get him out, or everything he had gone through would have been for nothing. Thus, with a deep breath he pulled himself together and decided that he would at least finish this shitty job and leave the handling of the organization to the division.

His fingers flew over the display.

Track car to Busan. Target: lawyer 46 business law with model wife.

He could not remember the lawyers name, so this had to suffice. But when he was about to send it, a thought crossed his mind. Before the Hawk had gotten his hand on the department car, how did he go to jobs? The answer was rather obvious: either by taxi or by foot. What if he did not use Jimin's car to get to the scene? How would his team know then?

He would have to keep the phone for them to track him, but that was impossible. Ahn would take it away the very moment he saw it and Jimin doubted that he could keep it a secret for more than a day, not to speak of the consequences his small rebellion would have. So how?

The memory of a small black button crossed his mind and lit up his eyes. The GPS-tracker he had fished from the Hawk's handbag. It must be still somewhere in the flat and since he had turned it off again, it should still work for some hours at least. He would activate it when they headed out for the hit. If he was still alive then. But he would work on that from now on.

He typed again, adding a line.

Watch GPS button. If active, hit is on.

This was also a good way to signal when the job was going to happen opposed to following the car at all times and risking being noticed by the hitman. Jimin shivered at the idea of being gutted because of something so insignificant.

"Are you ready?" Ahn asked through the door and Jimin dropped the phone.

"Almost," he replied and left the device where it was. He did not have a use for it from now on. What he needed was the tracker.

"The coffee's ready. We need to leave," the other insisted.

"Just a moment," Jimin asked of him and pushed past him to get into the living room where he knew the tracker must be lying around.

"What are you searching for?" Ahn wanted to know. It did not sound annoyed but rather like he wanted to help finding it.

"My grandma's cross. It's a gift she gave me before dying. I can't leave it," Jimin lied. He indeed possessed said cross, but his grandma was alive and he was an atheist. Still, he liked the feeling of the hanger around his neck and he had been missing it over the last days whenever his fingers had searched for something to fiddle with.

He scanned the shelfs of the bookcase and the small side table of the couch before he found the tracker in the drawer of the desk and pocketed it. Then he went to where he knew the necklace was and fixed it around his neck while telling Ahn that he was ready to leave now.

With the detour over Ilsan, the ride to Busan took five hours. The Hawk had first stopped to get what Jimin by now was sure was his rifle case (Jimin himself had been threatened to stay in the car or he would lose his chance at life), a second time midway to get them lunch which they were eating while driving, and a last time for them to change into suits. Apparently, their cover demanded the touch-up. When they stopped in front of a hotel in Busan, Jimin understood why. This was a business hotel and not for families or tourists, so they had to look it. Their small luggage matched the picture and only when they received the key to a room with a double bed, the lady behind the desk gave them a strange stare.

But the Hawk did not seem to care, so Jimin decided that he did not either. After all, who knew what he would need to do to stay alive. When they rode the elevator upstairs, he ignored the fact that the tightness in his stomach was more like excitement than like fear.

"No showering, we need to move," Ahn urged him to hurry once they had settled into the sterile room, so Jimin only dropped his bag and grabbed his wallet before leaving again.

"Where are we going?" he wanted to know when they were riding the elevator back to the lobby.

"Planning," Ahn answered. "Photographs are good, but you need to see the area to know the area."

Jimin hummed to show that he had understood. They would spy on the lawyer's workspace. Check out the area for places they could lie in cover with the rifle, places like the evening school the Hawk had used for killing Oh Chanwoo.

However, when Ahn stopped the car again to squeeze into a parking space, they were not even remotely close to the area of the law firm and Jimin felt dumbfounded. Was there something he had not understood about the plan? Or had he misunderstood when Ahn had showed and explained the pictures on his whiteboard to him?

"The job had the specification to kill him at home, if possible," the other read his thoughts when they walked into the Starbucks at the corner of the square they had reached.

Jimin tried to digest that. Being killed at home. It sounded much more terrifying than being killed at work. Your workplace was what all people knew of, but your home was something only a friend should know about. Apparently, the Jopok wanted to make a statement along the lines of 'neither at work nor at home you are safe when you work for the Yakuza'. Jimin was grateful that he was too unimportant to be on those people's radar.

Coffee to-go in hand the Hawk led them down the street and right around the corner into a side alley with small shops and restaurants on the right and two sleek buildings and a construction site on the left. He stopped in front of the second building. It looked like it had been squeezed into the gap between the first house and the high fence of the construction site, but with grace. The walls were of a warm sandy stone color with few slim windows towards the street that reached from top to bottom of each level. On ground level was a small parking deck that could hold four cars, and beyond that Jimin could get a glimpse of a yard. All in all, it looked expensive.

After scanning the area for some minutes, Ahn walked back out onto the main street with the Starbucks, but then slipped into a gateway that must lead to the backside of the building. Jimin followed him curious. Once the way widened into a backyard, they could see the other side of the building and Jimin's eyes widened. This sleek home had close to no windows. If he tried, he could count the openings on two hands.

"The yard," he whispered, understanding that most of the windows must look into the small yard with the trees. It made sense that rich people did not want anyone to look into their windows, and with the construction site the area around would be packed within a few months. But that left the Hawk with the problem of no windows to shoot someone through.

"How would you do it?" Ahn suddenly asked him.

Jimin looked at him startled. Was he expecting of him to solve the obvious problem? Was this another test? "How would I know?" he asked unsure.

"You saw the area. How would you do it?" the other asked again, and Jimin was now sure that this was indeed a test. Still, he did not understand why the Hawk wanted him to take part in this job. Was recruiting for the organization a thing? Was he lonely? Then again, did the Why really matter? If this got Jimin to live longer, he would comply.

He almost blurted that a sniper hit was impossible when he remembered that he should not know that this was what happened to the last one. "Depends on what weapon you have," he said instead.

"A sniper rifle and a handgun," was the reply.

"No way to make a hit through a window with a rifle," Jimin said and thought about what he had seen in the area. "The building is like a bunker. And even if you get a room in that hotel over there, it's too risky that your name will be found out during investigation. Unless you have a fake ID, of course."

The Hawk looked mildly impressed and for some reason that felt good. Jimin should not feel good while planning a murder.

"So handgun?" he asked, feeling queasy.

"How to go about it?" the task of planning was thrown at him once again.

Jimin tried to remember the other side. "The parking lot, probably. Or the yard."

"Which is better?" Ahn asked, although Jimin was sure he already had his plan set in stone.

"The parking lot. It's easier to escape from," he said with a sour taste in his mouth. He would want the man to stay at the crime scene as long as possible, so that his team could corner him, but this kind of planning was just a game for the Hawk and in the end Jimin had no say in it.

"Good." Ahn smiled pleased and Jimin found himself sprouting a smile as well, that he tried to stifle quickly.

"What about cameras?" he wanted to know when they exited the backyard.

"Caps and paper-masks."

"Not hoods?" he asked curious. It seemed to hide the face better than just a cap. The hair and ears were covered too.

The other shook his head before sipping on his coffee. "Limited peripheral vision." This, of course, made sense. A predator could easily become the prey if he was not cautious of his surroundings.

If Jimin was honest, he was impressed and slightly frightened at the precision and speed the Hawk worked with. Only two days since he had been ordered to take down this lawyer and he already had a plan how to. If he always was that fast, it was no wonder that he had enough hits to end up on the radar of Interpol. Jimin also wondered what could have become of Ahn had the man not become part of that organization. Someone who was so meticulous, quick, and ruthless would sure have good options on the job market.

But thinking about it for a bit longer, Jimin thought that hitman matched those abilities best. Hitman or undercover agent. With a sick kind of admiration he thought that all the cruelty of organized crime that Ms. Kim had slated him with after the funeral were probably nothing for the Hawk. Jimin had no trouble imagining him torturing or gutting a man. Someone like that would sure make it high in the ranks of illegal business if sent into the field. Could they maybe turn him around and use him? How loyal was he to the organization?

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