Purely Instinctive | Ki//ller Pet//er
Extremely competent assassin who handles every difficult situation inventively and with ease? What if he fell ill... đ (4.2k words)
This is a little different from what I usually write, but I've been reading Ki//ller Pe//ter on Webt//oon (link), and... um, this fic practically wrote itself. This might be the most self-indulgent thing I've written this year. Let's not talk about it đ
For the sake of the fic, all characters are in their early twenties (aside from Peter, who is obviously a lot older). If you haven't read the series, they're all assassins who work for an organization called the Gl//ory Club. That's pretty much all you need to know :)
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Here's Peter (under his current identity, Sun-Gu Kim) and Yuna:
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The drive to the warehouse is unusually quiet.
The mission is simpleâfind an international spy, currently en route to escape via a ship which departs from the harbor at 6am, holding onto highly classified documents which heâs not supposed to have. The moment he steps foot off of Korean land, he will become much more difficult to apprehendâthe ship the target is planning to take is a large cargo ship, its whereabouts easily tracked, but the Glory Club bounty has specified that the target will most likely part ways from the cargo ship on a small rowboat. Thereâs no telling at what point heâll split off from the cargo ship, or where heâll be headed next, which means:
They have only two hours to apprehend the subject before he becomes substantially harder to track down.
Yuna reaches up with a hand to rub her eyes. Of course, serving as part of Glory is no 9-5 jobâshe hadnât expected volunteer missions to always take place at predictable times. But theyâd gotten assigned to this particular mission on short notice, which meant that sheâd gotten maybe three hours of sleep, tops, before having to drag herself out of bed for this.
Theyâd been whisked out on Sun-Guâs motorcycleâthe St. Petrus V4, she recalls. Somehow, Sun-Gu had known exactly where to head. How heâd known, with the entire city laid out in front of him, Yuna isnât entirely sure. But heâd explained that the targetâs trajectory would probably not be a straight line to the harborâthat would be too easy to intercept, and Sun-Gu had assured the target would be aware there would be someone on his trail. Heâd probably avoid main roads, then, where there would be a higher chance of getting stopped by the police. Then, out of all the remaining routes from his last tracked location, it would only be feasible to get to the dock on time through six of them.
The rest had been intuition. Sun-Guâs familiarity with the city is impressive. He barely glances at the street signs as he drives, the night warm and stagnant, his motorcycle dialed to silent, and not for the first time, Yuna wonders how he seems to know all of this.
Speaking of Sun-Guâ
Something is different about him tonight. Yuna probably would not have noticed, had she not spent the entirety of the motorcycle ride sitting behind him. Heâs incredibly subtle about it. But itâs there, nonethelessâa slight change to his demeanor. Something nearly imperceptible, something she canât quite pin down.
Had Yuna not known better, she might have attributed it to tiredness. But in the couple months sheâs known Sun-Gu, sheâs never seen him tired. He sleeps, like the rest of them, of courseâhe is only humanâbut for him, the transition between sleep and wakefulness seems like more of a formality. That is to say, he wakes up immediately alert, and she doesnât think sheâs ever seen him tired.
It makes her wonder, a little, if thereâs a reason to it. If there was ever anything in his life which mandated being a light sleeper, that required him to be up at a momentâs notice. Either way, itâs not the reason why heâsâoff isnât the right word. Different is more suitable. Typically, heâs in better spirits. But Yuna has seen him pissed off, and this isnât it, either.
Sun-Gu parks the motorcycle just outside of the warehouse, unclips his helmet in one swift motion, andâafter Yuna gets offâtakes her helmet from her and stashes them both under the motorcycle seat, which Glory has designed to be self-locking. Then, without waiting to see if theyâll follow, he makes a lap around the periphery of the warehouse.
The Dokgo brothers have tagged along tooâtheyâre being quiet, now, which perhaps is mercy enough. Probably Sun-Gu had given them a challenge to shut up, and theyâve taken it in good faith. Now, even when they have something to comment, they keep their voices to a whisper.
âWhat do you think heâs off doing?â Biggie says.
Junior shrugs. âMaybe taking a walk, to relieve some stress.â
âHeâs looking for signs of entry,â Yuna tells them. Then, because she canât help it, and because sheâll be a little pissed off if theyâre the ones who end up jeopardizing the missionââRemember what he said about being quiet?â
âAh, shit,â Biggie says. âI am quiet. Maybe you should be quiet. Have you considered that?â
She ignores the both of them and heads over to the spot where Sun-Gu stands, now, his eyebrows furrowed. A slat thatâs out of place. He pushes it, and it budges.
Underground, the ground rumbles underneath them, and then settles to reveal a trap door.Â
Sun-Gu beckons for them to follow him, but he doesnât wait up for them. Yuna quickens her pace to keep up. The trap door leads them down, down. The air underground is much coolerâYuna finds herself wishing that sheâd brought a thicker jacket.
Ahead of her, Sun-Guâ
Takes in a sharp breath. But no, itâs not just a breath. As she watches him, he lifts a hand, pinches it to the bridge of his nose. His shoulders jerk forward, though only slightly; his back muscles tense. All in all, the entire display is soundless.
Yunaâs feels her eyebrows creep up.Â
This is certainly⌠new for him. But she doesnât have time to think on it right now.
When they get to the bottom of the steps, the stairway opens out into a deserted hallway: cement walls, cement floors. Itâs dark, and cavernous. This whole place feels empty. Itâs a little creepy, really. Why Sun-Gu suspects that their target is hiding out here, Yuna isnât sure. It seems counterproductive to hide out somewhere like this when, according to their intel, the subject has limited time already to make it out to the harbor.
That is, unless Sun-Gu suspects the intel that they were given might be wrong.
Sun-Gu switches on a flashlight heâs carrying and heads deeper in. Itâs not until he stops, looking down the hallway to survey his surroundings that he hesitates, only for a moment. He lifts the collar of his shirt over his face, his shoulders tensing.
âHhâânKTtt-!â
The sneeze is practically soundless. That makes two times in one night. Something is definitely up, then. Yuna looks around. Perhaps the underground space is dusty, or perhaps itâs not well-ventilated and itâs grown mold, and heâs allergic. Except, the air down here feels remarkably dryânot the sort of environment mold would thrive underâand the floors look suspiciously well-maintained. It wouldnât make sense for it to be something else, eitherâsome other universal irritant. Sun-Gu is the only one here whoâs sneezing.Â
Yuna isnât sure sheâs ever heard him sneeze before, out of the months that sheâs known him. Could it be some existing condition, thenânot a product of their environment, but something from earlier?
âMan,â Junior mouths, from somewhere. âHow much longer are we going to have to head down these hallways? They all look the same.â
Yuna turns to glare at him, puts her finger to her lips. âLonger if you arenât quiet about it.â
âI donât like this,â Biggie mutters. âWhen can we get to the fighting? All the lead-up is boring. It feels like weâre in some kind of horror movie.â Yuna squeezes her eyes shut, prays that theyâre far enough from Sun-Guâand, by extension, the targetâthat they canât be heard.Â
Sun-Gu stops, abruptly. He holds a hand up behind him, as if to say, stay back.
Yuna doesnât know what heâs noticed, at first. But a moment later, she hears itâthe click of a latch being undone, somewhere overhead.
Above them, a small trap door opens, and then pulls shut. A cylinder drops from the ceiling, leeching violet plumes of smoke. On instinct, Yuna pulls her shirt up to cover her nose and mouth.
Tear gas, she realizesâor something chemically similar. Itâs some sort of aerosolized compound, meant to render them both less capable of seeing andâpartly by extensionâless capable of fighting. Her eyes tear up almost immediately, so much that she can barely keep them open. Her lungs burn in protest as she takes in a breath.
Theyâre in a long corridor. Thereâs a finite amount of smoke coming from the canisterâif they wait it out, it will inevitably thin out. So this was more just a distraction, then. A flashy entry. Just enough time for whoever theyâre up against toâ
It takes her a few seconds to spot the figure through the smoke.Â
She thinks back to the files on the subject. Medium, reddish brown hair, pale blue eyes. 182 cm. Trained in combat. The stranger in the hallway has their face obscured by a gas mask, their hair hidden under a hood, but she can tell by the musculature of their exposed arms that they appear to be well-trained. In their right hand, they are carrying a long, slender weapon. From one endâattached to a metal chainâis a sphere, lined with spikes, each of them carved down to a sharp point.
It must weigh half a ton, from the way it drags the chain down, but the figure wields it easily, as if it weighs absolutely nothing.
âThatâs our guy!â Junior yells, at the same time as Biggie shouts, âStop right there!â
Both of them charge forwards. It all happens in a split second. The figure adjusts their grip on the weapon to turn the wooden handle of it outwards. Then, before either of the brothers have a chance to react, theyâre swung outwards by the sheer momentum of the rod. Biggie hits the ceiling with enough force that the concrete above them rumbles, the impact spiderwebbing the ceiling above them. Slabs of concrete rain down from the point of contact. The figure drives Junior straight into one of the walls at an awkward angle which renders him almost immediately unconscious.
Yuna can feel her own heart pounding in her ears. She slinks back into the darkness, pressing herself to the ground so that hopefully, the stranger will forget that she is thereâor that she is even a threat to begin with. Seeing what theyâre capable of, she isnât sure she could do much in this situation to begin with.
How long has it been since the last time the path split off into multiple routes? When Yuna turns to look, the hallway before them and after them seems to stretch on and on. An endless concrete tunnel, with the white, sterile lighting of a laboratory space. Nothing to shield themselves with, and nowhere to hide. Itâs a strange location to pick a fight in. What exactly was this place built for?Â
âIâve been waiting for you,â the figure says to Sun-Gu, grinning. Half of their teeth have been replaced with gold tooth crowns. When they grin, the gold catches the light, winking. âThirty seconds, huh? Your teammates couldnât even hold their own for that long? Itâs a damn shame. I didnât even get to use the weapon as itâs intended to be used.â They tilt their head, staring down at Sun-Gu with a look of contempt. âI guess you could thank me for being merciful. But if Iâm honestâŚâ
Their smile darkens into something sharper, something hungry. âI just didnât want to stain a flail of this quality with anyoneâs blood but yours.â
Was this entire mission a setup, to get Sun-Gu into one place? Is the subject really in possession of any classified documents at all?
Sun-Gu twists awayânot to evade, or not in preparation to attack. His shoulders hunch forward, his expression twisting. He coughs, roughly, down towards the ground. Itâs the kind of cough that suggests that heâs been coughing like this for some time nowâharsh and throat-scraping.Â
Thatâs when it registers for Yuna.
Heâs ill. It seems painfully obvious, in hindsight, now that sheâs realized it.Â
During the motorcycle ride here, heâd been careful not to touch her, Yuna realizes. Sun-Gu is always careful with his own spaceâhe has an awareness of it, even outside of combat, that she thinks would be unusual for most. Even with small thingsâthe ways he gestures, the way he holds himselfâshe gets the feeling that none of it is accidental.Â
When she looks at him now, she noticesâa slight, near-imperceptible flush to his features. Heâs breathing a little more heavily than normal. Instincts he can hide. Instincts he can cover for. But there are some things which no amount of physical awareness can hide.
He has a fever, then. Thatâs probably why he hadnât wanted her to touch him. Heâd known that if sheâd made contact with his skin, she wouldâve felt it, and she thinks he probably hadnât wanted to raise any concern.
Sun-Gu is here, on a mission, fighting a well-trained stranger on his own, equipped with nothing but a pocket knife, with no armor and no with no reinforcements. On any normal occasion, Yuna might trust him to be able to hold his ownâsheâs seen what heâs done, alone against a crowd of hundredsâbut this time, itâs different, because Sun-Gu is unwell.
The figure looks surprised, at this. âAh,â they say. Yuna canât help but think they look like a predator, honing in on their prey, only to find that said prey is already bloodied and limping. Like someone surprisedâbut pleasedâto find their job already done for them. âDonât tell me youâre already not in tip-top shape? Thatâs a shame.â
Sun-Gu coughs, again, his chest shaking. Yuna feels a pang of worry in her chest. He really does look unwellâand he hasnât said as much of a word to deny it, which is telling. She looks around for anything to help him withâ If she were to call for reinforcements, she thinks it would take too long for them to find them all here, underground, in the elaborate array of tunnels.
The weapon theyâre holding is heavy, which affects its maneuverability, and to some degree, its speed. But Sun-Guâs knife is much more of a close-range weapon, which means that while Sun-Gu will have to get up close to them to even make a mark, the stranger would be theoretically able to fatally wound him while standing a meter away.
The figure presses forward. With the swing of one hand, the metal ball and the chain arc outwards neatly, directly towards Sun-Gu. For such a heavy weapon, Yuna is surprised to find that this person wields it with impressive speed. Itâs nearly too fast for her eyes to track. Sun-Gu evades, easily, but the figure swings again, and again, and again. At this speed, it almost looks as though theyâre slicing the air into shreds.
If Sun-Gu were to be hit, his body would stop all of the momentum at once, and the spikes would easily puncture skin, drive themselves into tissue and skin and bone. Worse, Yuna realizes, if the weapon makes it to Sun-Guâs bodyâeven if itâs lodged in a relatively nonfatal areaâthe figure will easily be able to drive it directly into a vital organ. That means that if Sun-Gu fails to dodge cleanly on just one occasion, this fight will be over.
Thatâs another thing, too. Sun-Guâs radius of attack is limited by the length of his own arm. But the figure can stand in one place and swing the weapon anywhere that the length of their arm, the long rod, the chain, all put together, can reach.
âIf I had a little more patience, I might even have waited for you to get back to full health, so that this could be a more memorable fight,â the figure says.
Sun-Guâs breath hitches. His opponent is not kind enough to pretend not to notice. They drive forward, intending to use the moment of temporary weakness to their benefit, just as Sun-Gu jerks forward with a forceful, âhHhâEEZschHH-uH!â
Sun-Gu evades, but only barely. How he is able to predict the trajectory of the metal ball, even distracted, even with his eyes closed, Yuna isnât sure. But itâs clear that he isnât done, and by the time his eyes are already falling shut for another. Heâs afforded a sharp, desperate breath, before his shoulders jerk forward again. âhHânGKt-! Hh⌠hh-IIIHâDZSshH!â
He coughs, after, as if the sneezes have somehow irritated his throat further. Â
The stranger grins. â...But I suppose having your head as a prize would be consolation enough.â
They sweep the chain in a wide arc, directly for Sun-Guâs neck. Sun-Gu crouches for a moment, then takes a running leap up into the air, righting his trajectory with one foot to the wall to land behind them. Heâs put his knife away, Yuna realizes. But there is nothing hereâno props, no furnitureâfor him to repurpose into a weapon.
âSorry,â Sun-Gu says. The expression on his face is not one of remorse. Itâs one of clear, bitter irritation. Heâs annoyed, she realizes. âYouâre right. Iâm not feeling my best today.â
Itâs an admission, loud and clear, but the way he says it, it doesnât sound like an admission of weakness. Up until now, he has been observing, Yuna realizes, as heâs done beforeâpassively taking in the strangerâs fighting style, their handling of their weapon, their habits, their tells.Â
âSo,â Sun-Gu says, flatly. When the stranger swings again, Sun-Gu snags hold of the chain while itâs in mid-air, andâas if itâs weightlessâyanks the stranger towards him. He takes hold of the chain with his other hand, testing its weight. The smile on his face is utterly cold. âLetâs get this over with quickly.â
â
Afterwards, when they leave the warehouse, the sun is starting to rise. Yuna finds a text from Glory Club on her phone from an hour ago, presumably from the chairman. Itâs curt: Do not proceed. We have reason to doubt the motives of the group which supplied the intel. Ironically, there was not enough reception underground for their warning to reach them in time, but she thinks that Sun-Gu mustâve realized much earlier.Â
Biggie and Junior are a little worse for the wear, but other than that, neither of them is concerningly injured. Biggie claims that he doesnât have a concussion, but he doesnât put up too much of a fight when Yuna insists that when they get back, their first stop will be to the medical ward to get fixed up.Â
Speaking of Sun-Gu: he is quiet, which is not unusual. Sun-Gu has never been the most talkative person, but Yuna suspects that today, thereâs more to it.Â
âI can take us back,â Yuna says, trying not to make it sound pointed. Itâs usually Sun-Gu who steers, but Yuna has enough experience with the St. Petrus V4 to handle a forty minute trip on paved roads, and enough experience too to know how to speed just enough to stay in control of it.
âItâs fine,â Sun-Gu says, flashing her a distracted smile. âIt will be faster if I drive, because I wonât have to navigate.â He retrieves his own helmet from the seat compartment. Yuna spends a moment to watch him. He isnât injured, nor does he look any less alertâheâd gotten out of the battle without so much as a scratch to show for.
But there are little hints, here and there, to exhaustion. The way he clears his throat before speaking, so quietly she canât tell except for the slight bob of his throat, the slight furrow of his eyebrows. The way he pauses to clip his helmet, shielding his face with one hand from the gleam of the rising sun, as if his head is already hurting. The way he looks relieved to be sitting down, the way his hand lingers, a little shaky, on the motorcycle handles before he steadies it, looking faintly annoyed.Â
Of course, for someone like Sun-Gu, whereâon the battlefieldâany sort of slight miscalculation could be the difference between life and death, where trusting his body to function exactly as heâs used to is crucial for his success, Yuna isnât surprised that any sort of bodily inefficiency would be an annoyance, even more so for Sun-Gu than for most.
At the same time, as she stares at him, she has to wonderâjust how long has he been unwell? Had she not been awake during the battleâhad she been unconscious, then, like the other twoâwould she even have noticed? How many times in his life has he been ill and just proceeded? Yuna doesnât know what his relationship to Peter isâwhether heâs a long lost cousin, or someone who trained under him before, or something else. But she knows, from the way he fights, that he mustâve had years of combat experience even before he joined Glory. No one is born with that amount of expertise, that level of near-inhuman intuition.
In the past, when Sun-Gu found himself in life-or-death situations, had he proceeded like he is nowâas though everything were normal? As though any affliction he was suffering through privately was not even worth the attention of his own team? It makes sense, she thinksâthat he wouldnât broadcast any weakness openly, especially for any potential adversaries to listen in on. But if heâd been so careful to hide it from all of them, how would he take it if she acknowledged it out loud?
âIs something wrong?â Sun-Gu asks, watching her now.Â
âNo, nothing at all!â Yuna says, quickly. Think, she tells herself. She returns his smile, a little sheepishly. âI was just thinking⌠Iâm a little hungry. Do you think we could stop at a convenience store on the way back?â
Sun-Gu blinks, a little surprised. But then he nods. âOf course,â he says.Â
She fiddles with her own helmet until itâs securely on. Then she gets onto the motorcycle, behind him, and waits for him to take off.
â
True to his word, Sun-Gu stops at a 24/7 convenience store on the way back. But when Yuna asks him if he wants anything to eat, he waves her off with another smile. âNot enough time has passed after that fight,â he says. âIâm still too worked up to eat something.â
Bullshit, she thinks, but she steps inside the store nonetheless. Inside, itâs heavily air-conditioned, pleasantly cool. She picks out a sandwich from the fridge for herself, and one for Sun-Gu, while Biggie and Dokgoâwho have followed them here on their scootersâload up on containers of cup ramen and ready-made hot fried chicken. Yuna snags a bottle of water from the fridge. Then sheâs sure no one is looking, she takes a blister pack of aspirin off the shelves, along with a travel pack of tissues, and pays for it through the self-checkout station.
Biggie and Junior are still inside by the time sheâs done shopping, so she heads outside, the plastic bag in hand.
She finds him still seated on the motorcycle, his helmet still on. Heâs sitting ramrod-straight, his shoulders stiff, his head ducked slightly to avoid the sun. To anyone else, he might look alertâperhaps even nervousâbut Yuna knows better. It looks as if he is doing everything in his power not to fall asleep.
His breath hitches. He gasps, his body jerking forward with a loud, âhHHDâTSHhh-Uh!â, which seems ridiculously unrelieving for how loud it is, and sighs, tenderly massaging the bridge of his temples. So the headache from earlier hasnât gotten any better, then.Â
She watches him for a moment longerâwatches him duck forward into his arm with another ticklish sneeze, and emerge with a liquid sniffleâand wonders when this had all started to feel like second nature.
Caring about him, that is.
When he hears her coming, he looks up to her. âDone with breakfast already?âÂ
âNot yet,â she says. âBut I got you a sandwich.
âAh, thanks,â he says. âThough, didnât I sayââ
âYouâre not hungry right now, I recall,â Yuna says. âYou can save it for later. But I have something else for you too.âÂ
She hands him the aspirin and the bottle of water. Sun-Gu stares down at them for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing.
âI am not injured,â he says, at last.
âI know,â Yuna says, casually. âThe aspirin is for your headache. Thatâs been bothering you all morning, right? It might help with your fever, too, but I think the best antidote for that would be some proper bedrest.â
For a moment, Sun-Gu just stares at her, his eyes a little wide. Then he laughs. âYou really donât let anything past you, do you, Yuna?â
âThatâs right,â she says, crossing her arms. âSo you were trying to hide it.â
âNot exactly,â Sun-Gu says. âI just didnât deem it worth mentioning.â
âThree to five days of bedrest, and lots of warm fluids!â Yuna says, jabbing a finger into his chest, accusingly. âThatâs what people recommend for illnesses like this. Not a killer mission first thing in the morning!â
âYou are very prudent,â Sun-Gu says, looking mildly amused.
âYou donât think it mightâve helped to mention your illness to someone you trust? The chairman, or even me?â
âI fail to see how that wouldâve made any difference. Itâs not as though the mission could have waited.â
âFine, then.â Yuna says. âYou might not agree to take it easy. But Iâll keep noticing as long as you keep being irresponsible.â She means it as a threatâthat in the future, if he ever dares to be so reckless, sheâll be the first to notice. And if Yuna thinks he should be resting, instead of on a mission, sheâs not going to keep her mouth shut about it.Â
But when she looks over at Sun-Gu, he is smiling.Â
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