Chapter Text
The smoke fills the room. It’s so thick, Jungkook can see it slowly trailing through the air. It should be suffocating, but Jungkook can’t remember the last time he could really breathe.
Combined with the dim lights, it’s hard to see. They make everything purple; the whites of peoples eyes, their clothing. Distorting the color of their skin and reflecting off whatever flashy jewelry they’ve worn to show off.
Jungkook is in all black except his white hair. There isn’t anything he can do about that, but for once, it isn’t something about him that stands out.
He’s made sure not to wear anything that might reflect light. Not that he is the type to wear much jewelry save for the necklace he keeps tucked snug beneath his shirt and the bulky rings he wears less for fashion and more for the extra impact they bring when he throws a punch. But some occasions call for it. The image of wealth can be enough for one to finagle their way into a place they need to be.
There’s a lot of people here. So many that no one should take in his face, should remember it from anyone else around him. Even if it isn’t his own, he’s fond of this one and would like to wear it again.
The only downside is the more people in his way the longer he’s here. He prefers to get in and out. The faster he’s done, the faster he can move onto the next job.
That’s where his name comes from. Because of his white hair and how he seems to appear out of nowhere and disappear just as quickly. It’s not one he would have chosen for himself, but it fits.
Jungkook casts a disinterested look around before he settles his gaze on a door. The men who sit in front of it seem to be a part of the rest of the club goers, sitting at drink covered tables. They’re all full, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the one who brings a bottle to his lips but doesn’t actually drink from it.
Bingo .
Moments like these used to be nerve wracking during his first few jobs. Despite his confidence in his own ability, he was too aware of everything that could go wrong. Something he missed, miscalculated, a lack of trust in himself that had been more of a weakness than any actual weakness he did have.
Now, he doesn’t feel a thing. His body and brain move on autopilot, just like he’s been training it to for all these years.
Jungkook shifts his body behind someone dancing, making sure to get close but not touch. The smile he gets is welcoming, and he returns it as he brings his hand up to their hip to disguise the guide of metal against his palm.
He looks long enough to aim, but doesn’t wait to see if he hits his target. He buries his face beside the person’s ear instead, whispering nonsense that they probably can’t hear over the loud music anyway.
Their head tilts in an attempt to listen, and Jungkook’s eyes flick up, taking in the guard whose face crumples before he doubles over and vomits over his table of untouched drinks.
It’s enough of a distraction, but Jungkook moves quickly. Feet shuffling as fast as he can while still looking casual before he opens the door and spins behind it.
He doesn’t gather his surroundings consciously. After so many times working a job, it comes second nature to him. He grips the gun stored beneath his waistband and stuffs it into the neck of the first guard that appears before him.
It doesn’t make a sound. The music thumps loudly enough through the closed door that the body dropping can’t be heard either.
Sometimes, it’s a blur. Jungkook pulls the trigger without seeing the face he aims at. Only enough to know if it is the one he has in the front of his mind, the target he spent the last few days tailing. If it’s not, he’ll forget it before he leaves.
It’s like that today, and he’s thankful that his current target travels with a small guard. It’s stupid really. He has many enemies, but ego can do that to a person.
“Who the hell are you?”
There’s a gun rising, but Jungkook is faster. His leg flies up before his target can fully point it at him, knocking the weapon beneath the ruby red couch his target stands over. There’s a woman behind him that Jungkook doesn’t care about. That his target doesn’t care about either, in truth.
He has no idea what she feels about that and doesn’t care either. But right now, it makes her lucky.
“Who sent you?” The target yells, his hand circling behind his back, and Jungkook will let him think he stands a chance.
He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure many people would like to know who I work for.”
It’s evident when the man realizes who he is. Eyes darting up to his hair to the gun in Jungkook’s hands, the white matte metal collecting the purple light like everything else. His mouth slackens around the name he’s been given, and if Jungkook had the same ego as his target, it would grow in this moment.
Phantom .
Jungkook wonders what it’s like. When your time comes, when you realize that it has. He can’t quite imagine the feeling, can only guess how horrific it must be. There have been times he’s been so terrified, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t his time.
Not like this.
But luckily for his target, Jungkook isn’t the one assigned to torture and pulls the trigger without waiting a second longer.
While he has grown so used to his firearm that it feels as if it’s a third hand, more dominant than his actual dominant one, he prefers his sniper. It allows him to kill farther away so he’s only able to see his target fall back, and he can disperse without taking in any of the reactions of the people around them.
Up close, he witnesses it all. The impact, his forehead breaking open from it, how far the blood sprays from the back of the man’s head. The gross color it takes on beneath the black lights.
How it splatters the girl behind him, who screams and scampers back so the man won’t fall onto her.
Or maybe to get away from Jungkook. But he only looks at her for a moment, not even a full second, before he disappears.
Lucky, most would think. But the fear in her eyes tells Jungkook she wouldn’t quite think so.
Jungkook cracks his neck from side to side, ignoring his reflection in the murky motel mirror above the sink. It’s been too long since he’s actually taken a good look at himself, so used to wearing masks that he’s starting to forget what his own face looks like.
At least, he hopes he will. He has no desire to see it nor the dead look in his eyes. Though he feels nothing, it’s still jarring. Like looking at a doll with a face so human-like, so very close to be mistaken as real, but still not quite there.
He washes his face thoroughly, the water on the cooler side because he likes the shock that goes through him. His task today was an easy one, but he’s still tired. He needs to return and report to his boss as soon as possible, but he will travel back in the daytime when it’s least expected.
Most move at night. The dark hides them. With hair that stands out as much as his does, his enemies always expect him to move around once the sun sets. It’s kind of dumb of them, but it works to his favor. But as much as he’s cased out his current hit, made sure there would be no one left to follow him, he can’t take any chances.
He left the girl, but she wasn’t a threat. The most she’ll do is spread the word that the Phantom has appeared here, and that will work to Jungkook’s benefit more than it won’t. More security will go up, more precautions, and lead Jungkook right to the people that he wants to find.
There will be someone, one day, who figures out that Jungkook doesn’t crawl around at night. He always has to be careful, even if he’s very good at what he does. If he thinks he’s invincible, he’s a dead man.
Jungkook doesn’t do much after a hit. He finds the shittiest, tallest motel right out of whichever city his target resides and makes himself comfortable on the not so comfortable bed after cleaning up. He eats whatever they have in the vending machine if they even have one, though he skips a meal if he’s not as confident he won’t be followed. Even if he successfully hacks into security footage to hide himself, there’s so many cameras in everyone’s pockets these days that he’s paranoid.
The biggest mistake he could make is leading someone to his boss. That would be an instant death for him, and while Jungkook is not much of a fan for living, he has to. For some time, at least.
There’s so much death in his life, that Jungkook isn’t afraid of it. He knows his time is coming, he works a dangerous job. Which is ironic because the only reason he even continues with his work is so he can survive.
He tries not to think about it. Tries not to think at all. He likes his brain and his eyes to match: empty.
Jungkook stares up at the peeling ceiling above him and counts the marks in it until his mind is blank enough that he can sleep.
They’re in a new country. It’s harder for Jungkook to move around while going unnoticed. There’s always eyes on him, flicking towards him while he walks down the streets. He can be a bit paranoid, he knows that, but he also is just good at taking in his surroundings.
Well, he doesn’t always know when he’s being paranoid or just cautious. His roommate tells him he catches attention because he’s attractive, because he walks with a stride of someone powerful and angry. People’s attention may just be pulled by that, but Jungkook can’t help but to think he has ‘killer’ written over his head.
He adjusts the mask over his face, securing it over his nose. Traveling and being outdoors when he isn’t doing a job is the only time Jungkook wears his own face. It makes him feel vulnerable, though his reason for doing so is to protect himself.
No one knows what he truly looks like. They only get a chance to in their last moment of life, recognizing him only by the way he strips the skin from his face to reveal a new one.
The very few who do, hoard that information and use it to their advantage. There’s plenty of people who wish to know what the Phantom looks like, how to find him, and those who know pay a high price for the information.
Jungkook hopes they get the money, even if they don’t realize that kind of happiness will be short lived. They’ll all be dead soon. Hopefully they spend it responsibly.
He hasn’t made much of a name for himself yet in this country. Just his hit last night, who isn’t from here but hiding away. From Jungkook, his boss. His boss had taken it offensively that anyone thinks they could hide from them. Even in a different country, under a different name.
They too could wear a different face, and they would still be found. Knowing what the Phantom looks like gives both Jungkook and his boss more of a reason to see them as a target than anything else they could possibly do.
For his boss? It’s a power trip. He gets off on the fact that he’s the one that orders the Phantom where to go, who to kill. Even if they don’t know his name, he’s the reason for their fear.
Hired and funded by government agencies to create ruthless killers they can use at their will only feeds that power trip. Jungkook imagines the officials behind it will soon realize the mistake they’ve made if they haven’t already because not even they are safe if they get on his boss’ bad side.
It isn’t any of Jungkook’s business. He just takes the order and the pay that comes with it.
Jungkook slips through the crowd of people walking along the sidewalk, hands tucked deep into his pockets just in case he needs to quickly grab a weapon. There’s a variety of different languages around him, some he recognizes and some he doesn’t. He listens for any mention of a murder at a club the night before, but doesn’t get anything but casual talk. And someone bitching about their shitty boss.
Jungkook relates.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take him long to get to the parking garage. He walks in confidently, having already hacked the computer system this morning. He adjusts his mask as he gives his name, purposefully moving his hand over the part of his face his mask does not cover when he does.
He wears his bangs flat to help with that too, but honestly, it’s a bit annoying. They get in his eyes, even when he wears his glasses.
“Mr. Young, it says here you paid for the week.”
Jungkook rests an elbow against the counter. “Don’t remind me. Wasn’t expecting to walk into my partner’s apartment to find another man between their legs, you know?”
The man instantly turns red, his apology fumbling from his lips. He hands over the keys, practically flinging them beneath the glass between them. “Here you go, sir.”
Easy. Jungkook nods his head, not saying another word as he takes the keys. He waits until he’s a bit further down the curved lane that leads to the bottom of the parking garage before he glances at the kind of car he’s about to steal.
It’s one of the very few parking garages in the city that doesn’t have security cameras. They do have the equipment , Jungkook’s gaze gravitates to each camera like a habit, but they aren’t on. Just for show. Smart, stupid, or both, he isn’t sure.
Jungkook finds the car quickly and strips the plates, replacing them with another he has stashed in the bag hanging on his back. It’s a very common car, one he’s seen multiple times just today, walking here. It’ll be easy to blend in, but he stops when he slips into the front seat and hesitates for only a moment when he spots the photo dangling from the rearview mirror.
It’s of a young girl, a child. He doesn’t know what she means to the man he’s stealing this car from, whether they would see the act as bad. The worst thing someone could do.
If that opinion would change if they knew they reason why he was stealing it.
He yanks it off and shoves it into the glovebox before he stabs the key in and speeds off.
Jungkook doesn’t feel anything, can’t let himself. Surviving would be impossible if he did.