Hitman vs Mafia ~Mafia!Jimin X Hitman!Reader~

Chapter 2 - Hook, Line, and Sinker

BTS.

The most infamous mafia group in the entire damn city. They kill with incredible precision and don't let anyone infringe upon their business. Rumors launch that seven men stand at the top and command hundreds of thousands. Others say that seven is all they have. Both are equally frustrating. Their full names aren't even known. They go by their last names, which is very inconvenient because three have the same damn last name: Kim. Their physical descriptions are also terribly vague. There's reports of black hair, brown, pink, red, orange, silver, blonde, and others. Some are short in height, some are tall. Some have broad shoulders, some don't. No one's ever gotten close enough to even guess at eye color.

There was only one solid lead. One of the shorter, and most deadly, members had a silky sweet voice. Such a nice thing to think of during my death.

I sigh as I throw the folder onto my coffee table. I was so fucked. Anyone who bothered to ask about BTS goes missing, only sometimes actually turning up, and they were always dead. I had more skills than those people, as I'd been acquainted with some, but that didn't mean anything. I didn't know my opponents' abilities. They could be miles ahead of me or just barely above the victim. The difficult reality I lived in is that even though I knew almost nothing about these guys, they probably knew almost everything about me. They probably had a file on every damn hitman in the city, if not the country. Even if I operated more secretly than most others, I still went around with an open face. I was a real person with forged documents, so there was no doubt it was suspicious that I went into a mafia boss's building a lot.

"Fuck me," I groan into my hands.

Of all the next jobs to be given, this was it. One that basically guaranteed my early death. I wasn't that old, barely into adulthood, and I'd hoped to get enough money to leave this life before I died. A few more jobs would've allowed me to disappear. Just two or three.

I sit back up and grab the folder again. My eyes scan over the facts. There was a lot of flowery language, but it essentially boiled down to six facts:

1) Total number of members is unknown.

2) The known leaders are the three Kims, Min, Jung, Park, and Jeon. (Unhelpful info, since I live in Korea and too many people had these damn names.)

3) Each has a certain specialty that helps them operate, though no one knows who mastered what.

4) They mix and match who takes care of what, no two members even doing the same job.

5) The best way to hire them is for them to find you.

6) They kill anyone who takes a small step in their direction.

Awesome. Lots of good stuff.

A shiver went down my spine.

"Fuck."

Where should I even begin? Mafias had many types of places as fronts for their business. Restaurants with gambling in the back. Insurance companies. Loan companies. Corner store chains. Tattoo parlors. Liquor stores. Gun stores. Hell, I'd even seen one that used a library. Check out a certain type of book and you'd get a certain type of contract. Learning their system was relatively simple though, hence why I'm still here and they're not.

I grab my laptop and bring up a map of the area. I begin marking places of their known hits and business transactions, operating entirely from rumors that I'd heard down the grapevine. Certain bars and hole-in-the-wall restaurants that mainly hitmen and mafia frequent. The shitty reality about all of the locations is that they were completely random. There was not a single bit of order. It was all mainly in the city, but there were a few that expanded into more of the surrounding area. It was like I was stuck in the middle of an elaborate spider's web where every move would guarantee I'm caught. There was no safe move. No chess piece I could manipulate and chance at a check; a checkmate was out of the question. It was like trying to choose the ace of spades out of a face down deck while blindfolded. I was a glowing fish in the deep sea with predators all around. I was going to lose.

I click a location of a bar I enjoyed. I started scrolling down its website instead when an idea suddenly popped into my head.

A smirk forms on my lips.

Perhaps I'm more of an angler fish.

~~~~~

I walk into my usual bar later that night. It was as busy as usual at night, which was exactly as I wanted. I needed people to overhear my conversation.

I slide onto a barstool with a smile at the bartender. "The usual, please, but I want a little somethin' somethin'."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Yeah? You don't ask for that too much. One second, I'll make your drink first so you're nice and comfortable."

I shift, the knife attached to my belt moving slightly under my flannel. I took a subtle glance down by fixing my shoe to check if the knife was still flush with my body. It was, which was lucky for me. I needed to be careful to light the way into my jaws. I slide my eyes back and caught a glimpse of the sharpest eyes I'd ever seen. They reminded me of a cat's eyes, but of a dangerous hunter cat. I look back up when the bartender brings my drink back, a smooth motion that didn't give away any of my intentions.

She slides it to me with a smile. "So. A little extra, huh?"

"Yeah, unfortunately. I'm having intense guy trouble." I take a drink of the sweet liquor. "I don't even know what he looks like or his name, but he keeps bothering me."

I'm looking for multiple men. I don't know anything about them.

I see her eyes widen. She'd gotten this talk before. From the caution in her eyes, she already knew what I was talking about.

"I have to find him," I finish with a shrug.

"I can't help you, sorry. That's not enough information."

Don't keep asking. You're walking a dangerous path.

"Not even a hint?"

Give me something. Anything.

"Sorry, hun, I wish I could help, but the only thing I can offer is for that drink to be on the house."

I stop, my hand freezing less than an inch from my lips. The subtle language of this bar was one thing I'd learned well.

A free drink is a farewell.

I smile and finish the drink. I watch her through the bottom of the glass, following her gaze. It was in the direction of a table that was frequented by two men that I'd marked earlier. She knew more than she let on, but she hadn't been paid for her silence. The look in her eyes showed she was terrified. Being a bartender of a bar frequented by hitmen, she couldn't be scared of much. That told me she'd learned something and either almost died or been threatened to be killed. She knew who was going to kill me.

I set the drink back down. "Thanks for the drink. Wish me luck."

I'm not the one dying.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Good luck."

I leave the bar smoothly from there. Step one: Get marked for death. Check. Step two: Don't die. That wasn't going to be as easy as step one. Without even knowing how many are coming after meㅡthough I did know it was at least twoㅡor what skills they possess, I was in significantly more danger than they were. There was a reason the bartender thought I was going to die. She didn't know my full skills, but she definitely knew my potential killers were deadly precise.

I turn a corner as if I was heading back to my apartment, just like always. Nothing in my body showed I knew I was being followed. I knew I looked relaxed, natural swinging of my arms and steps similar in size, so there was no reason to suspect that I knew I was being followed. However, I made a mistake when my breathing hitched as I saw someone in a cloth mask heading my direction. It was a common sight to see at night since the air got more foul, but this was a red flag. Walking in my direction, grey hair, broader shoulders, relatively tall, and brown eyes that seemed to flash.

In my direction.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckㅡ

I stopped walking, but the footsteps behind me kept walking. They stopped right behind me.

"Either you go in that alleyway, or we'll make you."

I let out a shuddering breath. It was official.

BTS members had found me.