Bored Brains - Taegi/Vmon

11$

The first thing that every intruder was confronted with was the giant painting across from the door. From a canvas of three times two meters (yes, the room was five meters high) stared down a grotesque mask of insanity and hate, painted in black, violet and red. That face, if you could still call it that with the wide, wild eyes and the gaping mouth with missing teeth, took the whole canvas. Even after innumerable visits, Yoongi could not get used to it. It fulfilled his purpose perfectly. He felt small and vulnerable.

Underneath the painting sat the real monster, the one who controlled everyone and everything that lived in the shadows, untouched from the light of the normal world, his empire growing like cancer in the heart of the city. He leaned over some documents on the three meters, wooden table. His white fur coat hung over the giant backrest of his wooden chair, more throne. Behind him and next to the canvas stood two majestic shelfs. Each of them had a ladder attached, that went up to something that looked like a balcony and allowed to walk in front of the boards above two meters. The wall could be straight out of a palace's library, if it wasn't for the painting.

The right wall held a fireplace with a black leather couch in front of it, on which the barista could get a glimpse of a cat's head. Of course, not any cat's head, no. Zico possessed a black panther. Because, hell, why not? The left wall displayed three paintings, one of The King himself, one of his father and one of his grandfather. But Yoongi knew, behind the frames were three massive safes with varying content.

The man looked up when he heard the door.

"Suga!" he welcomed him happily. Yoongi nearly believed his delight, but the cold, dead eyes told him better. There was no joy in The King's eyes, never had been as long as he knew him. The only emotion he had ever seen was insane excitement. This had been when he had visited at the wrong time and had to watch two of the dogs-in-suits carry out a dead body, who's face could no longer be called a face. Back then, he had been close to vomiting. The memory of the red liquid coloring his bare feet made his stomach harden.

"Zico. I see, you still have the ugly, red carpet floor," the barista greeted back, thankfully his voice did not show his emotions.

"Yeah, it's still less work when cleaning. You should know." The dealer had come around the table and shook his hand. As strange as it sounded, Zico had the best manners he had ever seen on a man.

"What brings you into my realm of darkness?"

"I need The Tec's work." Yoongi could have gone to any underground technician to ask for the tool he needed, but he wanted The Tec (a man who might have had forgotten his own name by now, for everyone just called him that), because he knew, the man would give him exactly what he asked for. Unfortunately, he worked under the wing of Zico and only took orders from said man.

"What do you need?"

"Give him this. He'll know what to do," the barista answered and handed his opponent a piece of paper. It contained the safe model's serial number, a mix of letters and numbers no one else would understand. He did not need Zico to know about his job.

"An' please ask him for two pairs of license plates."

"Like you wish. Now, for the payment. You know I charge 25 percent for provision, so depending on what he has to say, I'll calculate my price. Do you want to wait here or come back later to pay me? You know-"

"You charge before and not after the job. Yes, I know," he interrupted the other, "I'll wait."

The King nodded and went back behind his table to scan the piece of paper and sent it to The Tec.

Yoongi knew he played with fire in being this cheeky, but he also knew Zico liked people like him, for he enjoyed having an eye-to-eye talk once in a while. He strolled over to the couch and put his case on the coffee table, kneeling in front of the panther. He was a beauty.