Pieces [Multi-Part-Work][Seoul, Korea]

Asia is the Earth's largest and most populous continent, located primarily in the eastern and northern hemispheres. Though it covers only 8.7% of the Earth's total surface area, it comprises 30% of Earth's land area, and has historically been home to the bulk of the planet's human population (currently roughly 60%). Asia is notable for not only overall large size and population, but unusually dense and large settlements as well as vast barely populated regions within the continent of 4.4 billion people. Asia has exhibited economic dynamism (particularly East Asia) as well as robust population growth during the 20th century, but overall population growth has since fallen to world average levels. The boundaries of Asia are culturally determined, as there is no clear geographical separation between it and Europe, which together form one continuous landmass called Eurasia. The most commonly accepted boundaries place Asia to the east of the Suez Canal, the Ural River, and the Ural Mountains, and south of the Caucasus Mountains (or the Kuma–Manych Depression) and the Caspian and Black Seas. It is bounded on the east by the Pacific Ocean, on the south by the Indian Ocean and on the north by the Arctic Ocean. Given its size and diversity, the concept of Asia—a name dating back to classical antiquity—may actually have more to do with human geography than physical geography. Asia varies greatly across and within its regions with regard to ethnic groups, cultures, environments, economics, historical ties and government systems.
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Lee Jihyun
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Pieces [Multi-Part-Work][Seoul, Korea]

Post by Lee Jihyun » August 24th, 2017, 8:07 pm

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“You want to know about Jihyun? Well, the important thing to know about Lee is that nobody actually calls him Jihyun. It’s Lee or nothing. The second thing to know about Lee? He never wanted any of this. You must be asking yourselves, how does ourguy wind up working for the Norks? For Kim Moon? Well, buckle up, because it’s quite a story. You see, it all began years ago, one fateful December…You see, that was when he met Seoyeon….”

Serving his country was all that Lee could help for. The son of immigrants from South Korea, Lee knew Korean well enough to make him a valuable asset. After 9/11, Lee wanted to serve his country. Fresh out of college, Lee was a Junior analyst with the CIA.
He wanted to fight terrorism, to protect his country, but instead his superiors saw him as a Korean. They didn’t care that he could speak fluent Arabic and Farsi, or that he had studied linguistics in college. He was Korean. He spoke Korean. He had family still in Korea. He was going to Korea. At worst he could work as a liaison with the South Korean intelligence agencies, at best he would prove to be a field asset; and so it went, Lee’s formative years in the CIA were spent tucked away in some listening post in Seoul. It was a cold December, years before the heatwave would be an issue, years before Lee would be a problem. This is where it all began.
By his third year in Korea Lee had proven himself to be a valuable asset. His training moved from analytical to operational until finally he was a trained killer operating for the CIA. It was a game of cat and mouse in South Korea and Lee often found himself working in opposition of Nork agents, and alongside South Korean intelligence. He was as far removed from the War on Terror as possible; but, he didn’t care anymore. He was serving his country, he told himself. It was in his fourth year of service that he met her.
She was a radiant beauty, unlike any he had seen before. Her accent was a bit funny but she seemed endlessly optimistic. Seoyeon, she introduced herself. Just Seoyeon. There was a graceful informality about her, an inviting warmth. Lee was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She drew everyone in with her happiness, it was infectious. Even in his dark line of work, Lee couldn’t help but smile when he was with Seoyeon. The two even took a trip to the village his grandparents grew up in, paying their respects to the family. A year later and she was Lee Seoyeon. She was the only person to call him Jihyun. She insisted Lee was too formal, that he was too formal. He didn’t realize it at the time, but this was the beginning of the end. The older members at the Agency watched Lee with a cautious eye; a family in the Agency wasn’t fair, not to the agent and not to the family. Most troubling to them, however, was Seoyeon’s seeming complete lack of family. In Korea that was nearly unheard of. There were only certain circumstances that would warrant the existence of someone like Seoyeon in South Korea without a family, without an identity to speak of; none of them were particularly good, and Seoul was being as tight-lipped as ever. When Lee’s section chief tried to inquire, the only response that Seoul gave was that Seoyeon was important. A relationship was trouble. A relationship with someone important was extra trouble.
Life couldn’t have been better for Lee. The years blended together and Seoyeon didn’t ask much of his job. Officially, Lee worked for the State Department and was often away on political missions. It was standard policy not to tell your family you worked for the Agency. It could be used against them, against you. Lord knows there were plenty of people that would seek to do Lee harm if they knew of his family, if his family knew what he did. Operational Security was important. For those years all Seoyeon knew was that her Husband worked long hours, that Jihyun was a part of a life that she could never touch. There was something about him always closed off, always secret. It caused tension in the family; arguments, fights, desperate late nights worrying and crying and pleading for Jihyun to come home. He hated the name Jihyun. Every time she said his name, choking back the tears, it tore him apart inside. She wanted him to retire, to settle down in Seoul with her. It was a nice plan, but unrealistic. He couldn’t tell her about the faces he saw at night, of the men he had killed, of the men he had tortured.
It took him awhile, but Lee learned that the War on Terror wasn’t necessarily always kept in the Middle East. He learned that when a man with a black bag over his head was drug into his safehouse in South Korea. He learned what the War on Terror really meant when he watched the South Koreans brutalize the man under his and the CIAs careful instruction. It turned out the man didn’t even know anything; he wasn’t a terrorist, just an Iraqi in the wrong place at the wrong time. The fighting continued with Seoyeon. Then his drinking started. He couldn’t shake the nightmares, the faces, the screaming. Then his daughter was born. She was beautiful, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Lee considered his daughter, Se-ah, to be the only good thing he produced. It was a truth he still held to this day. Of a life of sin, murder, and destruction, Se-ah was pure. When Se-ah was born, the nightmares stopped. Even his Section Chief celebrated. They were out all night drinking Soju when the news broke. For two months, Lee had no work. He was allowed to bask in the birth of his daughter and tend to his wife. That changed. All things change, eventually, and everything that is good in life doesn’t last.
Lee returned to work with a renewed purpose, a renewed vigor. There were no more fights with Seoyeon who was too distracted raising Se-ah. They lived like that, peacefully, for another three years. Lee continued to kill but they didn’t haunt him quite so much. There wasn’t enough time for nightmares when he was waking up to the sounds of a baby crying, and when she grew older, the sounds of a scared child wanting to hold her mother and father to scare the monsters that had invaded her dreams away. Life wasn’t ideal, but it was good. Another year and Lee would be able to have a clean break from the Agency. His section chief had promised as much. It was what Seoyeon needed, it was what Se-ah needed. What he needed. One more year and he would take them back to the States, take them to live with his Mother and Father in California. He would put this killing behind him, this life of violence and depravity. He even quit drinking, for a time. One month until retirement and Lee was tapped again. This time it was by the South. The Koreans needed someone with his skill, his expertise. He didn’t want to do it. Chief O’Brien even told him he didn’t have to do it. It wasn’t until he saw the target that he had agreed. A notorious North Korean, a man who was responsible for a slew of murders in South Korea. He killed three of Lee’s friends over the years, and Lee would be lying if he said he had not desired revenge when he took this task.
The job went as well as could be expected. Lee couldn’t understand why everyone had such sour faces when he returned. He offed the guy in Thailand. A real simple operation. He just pulled up alongside the targets car and used magnets to attach a bomb to it. One explosion later and the North Koreans were short an assassin. At headquarters, however, everyone seemed to be avoiding his eye. They all had guilt on their faces. They all looked like they wanted to say something but couldn’t. He didn’t understand the gravity of the situation until he felt a hand upon his shoulder. His first instinct was to tense, but then he heard O’Briens voice.
“It isn’t good,” O’Brien Said, voice low and tense, “Lee, there was an attack. No one saw it coming.” Lee was confused. He had not seen any indication of an attack during the flight back to Seoul. There was nothing on the news, nobody at said anything. His confusion was apparent on his face even when Saul O’Brien led him to a conference room. Normally they interrogated prisoners there, but it was also one of the only rooms with absolute privacy. A Korean man stood there, body prostate in a full bow before Lee. His fists were clenched, balled up, and it was obvious he had been crying recently. What was hit? What was lost? Was this man the victim? Lee had so many questions, but none of them had been the right question.
”Regretfully I must inform you that your daughter, Lee Se-Ah was killed earlier this morning.”
The words became dulled. The entire world became dull. Emotions cycle through Lee without control; sorrow, anger, rage, sorrow, anger, rage all in a carrousel of never-ending agony. Lee couldn’t focus. Everything else Saul and the Korean tried to tell him seemed to be a blur now. Seoyeon was in the hospital. Se-ah was dead. This man, this sniveling man had been in charge of their protection detail. What protection detail? How had he not noticed? His sorrow dulled his sense. If he were in his right mind, Lee might have killed the man in that room right there. Part of him could not believe the words he was hearing. Seoyeon, Se-ah…The things that were most precious to him. It hurt worse than any bullet could. It turned out Seoyeon was the daughter of a rather high level North Korean defector. Her father had been assassinated previously, leaving Seoyeon alone. It was why she spoke in such a funny manner, Saul explained. The South Koreans gave her a new identity and decided it was for the best to keep her completely anonymous. There was a leak in the agency, Saul said, and nobody knew who the mole was. It was a nightmare. That was the first night since Se-ah was born that Lee had nightmares. He should have been there, should have stayed with his family. He could have protected them. He should have protected them.
The next day he went to the hospital. Seoyeon begged his forgiveness. He begged her forgiveness. Neither one of them could honestly look the other in the eye without feeling a twinge of blame. It tore at the fabric of their relationship. Worse still, Lee was papered out early. Saul figured with everything that had happened, Lee would want to go home. Lee wanted revenge. The South Koreans wanted to keep it quiet. The CIA wanted to keep it quiet. It was a matter of saving face, it didn’t look good when things like this happened to the relatives of CIA Operatives. It didn’t look good when North Korean defectors were attacked, either. Seoyeon didn’t stay with him for long. He drank often, almost constantly. They didn’t argue, rather it was the silence that did them in. Marriages do not often survive the loss of a child, and Lee was no exception. Seoyeon was safe, at least, in the United States. But, Lee still wanted revenge. It was that revenge that led him to a place he never thought he would go, a place he never thought he could go. It was meeting Seoyeon that ultimately changed the course of Lee’s life. If he hadn’t have met her, he probably would have been recognized as a hero. Revenge had a funny way of festering, of boring deep into someone’s heart. It was a beast that Lee knew only one way to feed, but without the CIA Lee had to turn elsewhere. It was personal, this time. The CIA had let him down, had let his family down…The same could be said of South Korea. Lee would have to look elsewhere for support, and he knew just where to find it.
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Lee Jihyun
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Re: Pieces [Multi-Part-Work][Seoul, Korea]

Post by Lee Jihyun » August 24th, 2017, 9:10 pm

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“That’s how Lee met Kim Moon. Nobody else could help him. See, Lee knew about Moon and the Red Star for a while now. A bunch of Nork officers that threw off their shackles and now ran a multimillion dollar criminal organization. Lee was willing to sell his soul to a lesser evil….”

Maybe it was a mixture of the heat and the Soju that made Lee decide this was his way. Maybe it was just the festering hatred. He couldn’t place a finger on it, but he was willing to cross a line. Who else could get him what he wanted?
It was unreasonable hot and humid, the kind of hot and humid that happened in California when the monsoonal moisture from Arizona got sucked up. The drought had been well underway and everyone in California was suffering the same agony. Some suffered more than others. Lee couldn’t bring himself to reach out to Seoyeon. He couldn’t reach out to Saul. There were just certain things that a man had to do, needed to do. If his country and the law could not provide him satisfaction, what kind of man was he that he could not find relief himself? Like God who struck down David and Bathsheba’s firstborn, God punished Lee for all of the death he had caused by putting his sin on Se-ah. It was an unfair, and Lee wouldn’t suffer it. He didn’t talk to God like he used to, but that was purely by his choice and fueled by his own stubbornness to seek forgiveness. He wouldn’t apologize for doing what was necessary for his country. It was hard men making hard choices like Lee that had kept everyone safe. If God could not understand that, then Lee ill needed a God such as that. He turned himself over to another power. God and Country had failed him. Kim Moon? Kim Moon hadn’t. It was a sweltering August day when Lee swaggered into the Kim Chi Garden, a small restaurant tucked away among many identical such restaurants in Korea Town. It had been a known haunt of Kim Moon for some time now, and Kim Moon was the kind of guy that didn’t give a fuck if the government knew where he went.
In the dark back room of the Kim Chi Garden, Lee found a familiar warmth, a glowing informality. A slightly pudgy North Korean in a gaudy suit with his hair meticulously styled and surrounded by other Korean men sat laughing, lapping his knee. On either side of him, beautiful women. One was Korean, the other Brazilian. Kim didn’t discriminate when it came to women. He had a cigar pressed between his lips and at that moment Lee couldn’t help but remember the faces of men like that who he had killed before. Boisterous North Koreans. It was easy to forget from his current demeanor that Kim Moon was once a highly trained, highly deadly North Korean operative. Right now he looked like a stereotypical gangster, a jovial kind of man who had no need for man’s law. Kim was going to fuck the world before the world could fuck him. Lee was torn between a passing respect and a desire to kill the man. The entire time, Kim had not said a single word to Lee directly. Instead, Kim told stories of his time in North Korea and then of his time abroad before boasting about his millions. To hear Kim tell it, he had the biggest dick, the finest women, and the best booze. His life was one of shameless hedonism and debauchery, for the most part. Lee knew better, though. There was a deadness in Kim’s eyes, a dulling of the human light that Lee often saw reflected in himself. The party went on for hours until suddenly it didn’t. The sun had gone down but the heat did not abate, the humidity stifling them.
”I know who you are, Jihyun.” Kim finally spoke with a somber voice as he exhaled his cigar smoke, ”You disrupted some of my operations, ya know?” It was true that Lee, at certain points in his career, had actively disrupted Kim Moon’s operations. In the CIA they were told that the money Kim Moon was generating was being used to fuel North Korean programs abroad. Whether there was any truth to it, Lee didn’t really know. From what he could see in the man’s hedonism, it was unlikely. The Kim Chi Garden had long since closed down, the only patrons now being Kim Moon, his personal entourage, and the few waitresses that feared the Red Star too much to bother resist his unreasonable demand that they continue working. Kim was throwing a farewell party, you see. He had business lined up in Asia and that was the most Kim had revealed before he snorted a line of cocaine off the Brazilian woman’s ass. It wasn’t Lee’s style, but he was a guest. More important, he was a guest who needed something. He could no longer sit upon a high-horse and cast judgment upon Kim; not when that illicit money was precisely what Lee was hoping would be the key to his revenge.
Lee was upfront about everything, exhaling a small sigh as he was passed a joint of Marijuana. He took the hit. It would have looked suspicious not to, and he thought back to his days in college where he had partook on more than one occasion, ”I need money. Money and weapons.” Kim seemed like the kind of man who didn’t care much for beating around the bush, and it turned out Lee had guessed right. Immediately Kim’s lips curled upward into a smile, the smile followed by a deep, haughty laughter. His hand slapped his knee again and nothing was said until Kim stopped laughing.
”That’s funny. You’re a funny guy. I like funny guys. What’s my end? What do I get for it? C’mon. You think Kim stupid or something?”
”Not at all, Mr. Moon.” Lee began, but Kim’s hand flew up to silence him. Whatever Lee intended to offer didn’t seem to matter. Kim was only interested in what he wanted.
”You work for me. Understand? Whatever I want. Wherever. Whenever. Me. I’ll give you what you want, access to my entire network. Deal?”
That was the precise moment when Lee sold his soul. He had killed for years for his government without a qualm in his heart. Who was to say killing for Kim was going to be less morally right? At least with Kim there was no gray ground. There was no ambiguity as to where they stood or what the arrangement was. The CIA hadn’t helped Lee. They gave him a pat on the back, a we’re so sorry, and sent him on his way. The CIA had cost him everything. It had cost him Seoyeon and his precious Se-Ah. From where Lee was sitting, Kim hadn’t cost him anything. So the man dabbled in illegal activity, so did the CIA. The difference between the two didn’t seem as clear as it once had. Perhaps it was the heat and the Soju that had gotten to him. Perhaps it was the festering desire for revenge. Either way, Lee hoist his cup of Soju in a toast and willfully pledged himself to Kim Moon’s service. They all laughed after that, and Kim made Lee snort a line off the Brazilian’s ass. Then he gave Lee the Brazilian. The night was a humid, Soju, cocaine, and sex filled haze. Lee couldn’t remember exactly what had happened the rest of the night, nor could he remember the morning. Everything seemed to disappear around the time he had buried himself in the Brazilian woman.
By the time his senses returned to him, Lee was nursing a major hangover. His stomach bubbled and churned and it was only at that moment did he realize he was tucked away inside an airplane. The flight was bumpy, uncomfortable, and Lee vomited multiple times throughout. It was still several hours from Busan and those hours Lee considered the second worst time of his life. The cargo battered against him relentlessly, and he couldn’t quite keep his stomach down. Eventually the co-pilot wandered in the back to check on Lee, letting him know where exactly they were and offering him a bottle of water. The easiest way to South Korea, Kim had figured, was to just stuff the drunk and intoxicated Lee onto the next cargo liner Kim had going to Busan. On the one hand, Lee appreciated his new employer’s promptness. On the other hand, Lee did not see why Kim couldn’t have just bought him a ticket. He understood why Kim did not, but he still deeply wished Kim had done so. The cargo continued to shift and bounce around until finally Lee’s plane skid to halt.
Busan. Lee had heard a lot about Busan but personally had never spent much time there. The military base was too obvious a location for the CIA to properly operate out of, there were also too many eyes and ears worried with things like human rights to have a true operation. In Seoul, however, the CIA operated with impunity alongside their South Korean allies. Seoul was where Lee needed to be, because Seoul was where Lee still had contacts. Busan, however, was where Kim needed Lee to be. It was funny how Kim never mentioned that Lee’s employment was going to start immediately, but perhaps it was Lee’s fault for not stipulating that he had wanted his revenge first. It turned out the two things were going to be inextricably linked together. The figure Kim needed taken care of was also key to Lee’s future operation in Seoul. A foreign man by the name of Alexei Mikhailov. He ran a foreign bar in Busan which was ostensibly his cover, the truth of the matter was that Alexei was a former KGB man who now worked for the Norks. Funny how the CIA seemed to be unaware of Alexei’s presence, and funnier still how Kim Moon, who supposedly still supported North Korea, was interested in seeing this man eliminated.
”So, that’s the deal. The Monkey King wants this guy out of the way, that’ll clear things up for you to get in touch with Choi.” Kim’s associate, Dae-Ho explained. He was one of the men upfront in the plane. Dae-Ho was a short, funny man with slicked back black hair. He dressed modestly and he walked with the kind of swagger that the Japanese had. Dae-Ho had been, after all, a former Yakuza member. It showed by the tattoos on his body and the missing digit on his hand. He probably wronged his clan in some way, or perhaps he was the sole survivor of some Yakuza war. Whatever the case, Dae-Ho worked for the Red Star now. Lee worked for the Red Star now. It was going to take some time to get used to saying that, thinking that. Lee was careful in his calculations and every step of the way he had analyzed the men he met; sizing them up in case he needed to ever take them on. It didn’t really seem to be an issue. In Kim’s crew it seemed loyalty was more important than anything else. If you had a problem, Kim treated it as if the problem were his own. His men affectionately referred to him as Uncle, Samchon in Korean. Few, if any of them, were actually related to Kim. Where you were from didn’t matter, who you used to be didn’t matter. The moment you swore to work for Kim, you were immediately family to the man. Lee almost saw something honorable in it, in this life of crime. He could understand wanting to take care of a family, more than most. Se-ah was gone from him, but he was so close to his revenge he could taste it. Dae-ho slipped him the silenced pistol with a small nod. Lee knew what he had to do; he knew what the man looked like, knew his schedule, and now knew the instrument of his demise. It was just a matter of timing. What was Alexei but one more cog in the machine that took Se-ah away from him?
Last edited by Lee Jihyun on August 24th, 2017, 11:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Pieces [Multi-Part-Work][Seoul, Korea]

Post by Lee Jihyun » August 24th, 2017, 11:02 pm

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“Revenge, you see, it became all that mattered to Lee. What more can you do to a man who has lost everything? It just made him more dangerous. If we were smart, we would have helped him. Instead? Instead we drove him to The Red Star, and The Red Star propped him up. They set his hand upon its course….”

Alexei led a predictable life. Every morning he did the exact same thing. He went to his bar early in the morning to sort through the paper work. Once the paperwork was sorted, he would leave. He went to a back alley mom and pop shop where he would order cheap Yaki and Kim Bap. He avoided the soldiers and he kept a low profile. On Tuesdays, Alexei met with a Korean man briefly and handed over an envelope. Documents, probably.
By this point it seemed like Lee couldn’t escape the heat. Even in Korea it was a sweltering oppression that snuffed out all thoughts of comfort. It crept in, even despite the air conditioner, and when the air conditioner gave out Lee often found himself drenched in sweat, laid up in Kim’s safehouse in Busan. He knew that in these situations timing was everything. When he wasn’t meticulously combing over the man’s schedule, he was cleaning his firearm. When he wasn’t cleaning his firearm, he was sprawled out on the couch trying to survive the heatwave. Lee couldn’t afford any mistakes, but he could afford to wait and bide his time. Dispatching Alexei properly would secure his path to revenge. Killing Alexei was where it all lay, and if Kim wanted Alexei dead, Lee would be more than happy to dispatch the man. In the CIA killing had been easy, it wasn’t personal, it was for the good of the government. Now? Now it wasn’t personal, either. It was business. Well, it might have been a bit personal. As much as Lee could gather, Alexei was probably the man who sold Seoyeon out. Someone had to have told the North Koreans. Then again, Lee often told himself such tales when the night was long and the Soju had long since disappeared down his gut. He had justified murders to himself before and this time it was nothing new. The tremble in his hand, the familiar tension in his stomach. The fight or flight response was welling up inside of him and when everything of his being was screaming for him to leave this all behind now his training was there to press those feelings dwon.
He methodically cleaned his gun, disassembling and reassembling it. It wasn’t because the gun was dirty or because he was particularly enthralled by guns, it was because the repetitious performance helped steel his nerves against the violence that was to come. Any grime or grease had long been cleared away from the weapon and yet he still diligently worked at it. His Saul used to chastise him for it, saying it was a bad habit, that it wasn’t particularly good for the gun. At this point it was a compulsion for Lee, like a baby seeking the comfort of its mother’s bosom. It focused his mind and calmed his nerves. He could now recite in his head the entirety of Alexei’s route without having to consult a paper. Lee had rehearsed his escape route and committed maps to his memory. The time which he would strike was now set. He would catch Alexei after the man finished his 10:45 Kim Bap. By that time of day the crowds were thick enough in the back alley that Lee could disappear into them but light enough that he wouldn’t accidentally hit a civilian. It was preferable to have no witnesses but such things were generally impossible. There wasn’t ever a street in existence that didn’t have some set of eyes upon it. Truthfully, it was better to commit a murder somewhere public, somewhere with a lot of faces. Too much sensory information was just as good as too little. For instance, a single man walking up on an empty street and putting a round into another man’s head left an impression. Peering into a crowd of people moving along a bustling street, however, is more chaotic. Details will be missed, most people on the street will be panicking, and the witnesses to the crime won’t be able to remember enough about the perpetrator to make a possible identification. The CIA had taught him that. Of course, the CIA also favored poison delivered to a meal or an explosive fixed to a moving vehicle, something that left little room for error and equally little chance of the agent being caught. This wasn’t the CIA, however, and Kim was rather specific on how he wanted things done. As specific as he could be, anyways. All Kim provided Lee with was a single pistol, a hideout, and the contacts.
Lee figured this was a test; an initiation, as it were. There wasn’t a reason why any of Kim’s other guys couldn’t have taken Alexei out. Kim probably just wanted to test Lee’s resolve and resourcefulness. If given a gun and left on his own with a target, could Lee successfully take the target out? Truthfully there was no resume when it came to switching from the CIA to working for a criminal like Kim Moon. All they had to go on was reputation, and while Kim had set himself apart from his reputation immediately, Lee knew that Kim was wanting to see if he could live up to his own reputation. He had never killed a man for personal reasons before; it was always for the government, there was always someone else that he could say was responsible, someone that could absolve him of his crime. Now it was Lee, it was only Lee. The choices were clear. He couldn’t hesitate, he would not hesitate. He needed to kill this Russian to secure his vengeance. There was still a way out. He checked his phone, eyeing Saul in his contacts list. Was Saul even still in South Korea? If anyone could get him out, it was Saul. He turned the phone off, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.
Lee was awake bright and early the next morning. Despite the heat he pulled his suit on and did his best to look the part of an average, everyday Korean worker. Lots of businessmen roamed the streets at that hour, collecting food for their various breaks before dispersing back to their jobs. Lee could look no different than them. The pistol was tucked away, hidden beneath his coat and under his waistband. The sun assaulted him mercilessly as the cloud cover broke and already the day was sweltering. Humidity was about ninety percent and the temperature was in the low nineties. His skin was thick with the sweat and he already wanted to retreat into an air-conditioned lounge or just go home. Perhaps this was all a mistake. Being back in Korea, it brought back memories. Painful memories that flittered in and out of his mind. The sounds of a child’s laughter, the sight of a couple holding hands and whispering sweet nothings to one another; even the sight of an elderly couple caused bile to rise up in his throat, feeling he might vomit. He pushed it down and shut them out when he saw Alexei. Those feelings he could not afford to have, the feelings that he would keep locked away inside of him. Alexei stood out in the crowd even though he wasn’t a tall man. Blonde hair, Caucasian features, and the typical swagger of a westerner put him apart from the Koreans and made him easy for Lee to tail from a distance. As Alexei had been former Russian Intelligence, Lee knew he had to be cautious in his approach. He could shut memories of Seoyeon and Se-ah out, but he couldn’t shut out memories of his time at the CIA
He felt them surging up; the thrill of the hunt, the euphoria he felt on all those cat-and-mouse counter intelligence operations. He made a living killing other intelligence operatives and he was damn fine at it. Nobody had been able to best him and that was why Lee continued to work for as long as he did. Despite how he felt about it, despite all the nightmares and long nights, all the fighting and bickering; at the end of the day, he was good at it. He was good at killing. He enjoyed outsmarting them, enjoyed taking them down. That was why it had haunted him so much. The fact that he took pleasure from this dangerous game made Lee inherently dangerous. He needed to cling on to the guilt of the ones he killed so that he didn’t feel like a total monster. It reminded him he was human.
Lee waited until Alexei was seated facing away from the street, piling Kim Bap into his mouth from the barstool that was located on the outside of a service window. Alexei never heard the shot, his world simply faded to black. A single round pierced the back of his skull and sent fragments of bone and blood matter spraying forward into the restraint. Inside, the older Korean woman who served the food gave a loud shriek. Outside, people screamed in panic. Suppressed our not, the bullet still gave a report. The difference was that nobody could ascertain the exact location of the shooter and Lee made himself disappear into the crowd like a frightened businessman after he snapped a picture with a camera phone. Verification was, afterall, standard operating procedures. Sirens wailed in the distance and Lee kept to the back alleys and side streets until finally he was able to duck into a shady looking bar that had a sign out front indicating that foreigner’s weren’t allowed. It was a seedy sort of den of ill repute, the exact kind of place Dae-ho would be found.
”Now that’s fucking gangster.” Dae-ho, at least, seemed impressed with the sight of Alexei laying there dead. Meeting Dae-ho in Busan wasn’t all that different from meeting Kim. Like Kim, Dae-ho was surrounded by tough looking guys and beautiful women. Unlike Kim, all of Dae-ho’s women were Korean. He gestured and Lee sat, a girl poured Soju and tried to sit in his lap but he dismissed her without a word. She would pout, but she wasn’t going to find any comfort, not with Lee. He stared at Dae-ho with purpose, even as he drank the Soju. He was trying to size the man up, but Dae-ho seemed to be purposefully shifting. His body language was always changing and that was Lee’s first hint that the man he was dealing with wasn’t just some two-pit gangster. No, Dae-ho was more than met the eye. Lee didn’t know if they would ever find chance to speak of Dae-ho’s life, but they shared a glance and had a quiet understanding between each other. Dae-ho wouldn’t ask Lee if Lee did not ask Dae-ho.
”I need to get to Seoul.”
”It’s fine. Samchon already has it set up.” Dae-ho explained, fanning himself aggressively. Even in the bar there was no relief from the heat. The cold Soju was all they had to comfort themselves with. Dae-ho grinned like a wildman at the expression of bewilderment that Lee wore. It didn’t dawn on Lee that Kim had expected Lee would actually complete the task as effortless as he had. Lee figured there would be a period of waiting before the transport could actually be arranged, but Dae-ho just grinned as he tossed him the keys, ”She’s parked down the street...Samchon said if you need anything else, let me know….And hey, even if you have to cross the border, we’re going to get those assholes. Understand?” Dae-ho made a show of thumping his chest with his fist. A display of camaraderie, perhaps, but also aggressive posturing. Lee knew all the stories about how these criminal organizations worked, how they lured people in who felt like outsiders, but now that he was on the other side of things, Lee warmed to the gesture. A smile, albeit a small one, graced his face. Why shouldn’t he embrace Dae-ho as a brother? Dae-ho had done more to avenge Se-ah than Saul or any of his other brothers in arms had. In tragedy, true character is revealed.
Seoul hadn’t changed much since he was last there. He drove in comfort and style, the air conditioner in the car Dae-ho provided him keeping him refreshed. Likewise, Dae-ho had stocked the car with bottled water and a piece of paper with an address. Lee might have his own connections in Seoul still, but Dae-ho and The Red Star had more. If he wanted answers, wanted to get to the bottom of this, he would need as much of Kim’s help as he could take. He knew every hand out he took only cemented his debt to Kim, he wasn’t stupid. He just didn’t care anymore.

[Requests]

-Dae-ho, a small crew boss operating in Busan, Korea. He is essentially Kim Moon's go-to-guy in Korea [Note: I am also Kim Moon].
-Se-ah, a deceased daughter.
-Seoyeon, an estranged wife.
-Lee's experience in the CIA
-[1x]Hyundai Avante
-Tokarev TT-33 w/suppressor
-[1x] Safehouse in Busan
-[1x] Safehouse in Seoul
-Lee's contacts in Seoul from his time in the CIA.
-The Red Star contacts in Seoul from Dae-ho.
-Alexei deceased
-Lee's pay from his time in the CIA. [As per the report of payscale.com the average salary for the CIA agent that is decided by the federal government is $81,623 yearly]. Ten years in the CIA, subtracting living expenses, medical expenses, and etc. would reduce the amount he would have access to, to about $70,000-100,000 in savings. Factor in his drinking, it is probably closer to $70,000.
-Leave it open for Part II.
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Kenvincible
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Re: Pieces [Multi-Part-Work][Seoul, Korea]

Post by Kenvincible » August 26th, 2017, 12:00 am


Critique
- I know you don't care if someone critiques it or not but I gotta say this is seriously legit. You have not lost your touch and your still the gold standard that I hope my writing aspires too. I look forward to reading the next part this was a real page turner, to say the least. I love the backstory and I can envision each part as you're saying it. This would make a dope movie.

All Requests Approved
Kenvincible The Great
"What chu talkin bout willis?"

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