In Seoul, there were two well-known hitmen: Brownie and Bunnie. Nobody knew their real names, aside from themselves and the very few people they entrusted with that information, nobody even knew what they looked like. There were only stories of the assassins.
Brownie was more of a traveller; his services weren't limited to just Seoul, so maybe that was why the two men never made contact. They had very different styles. Where Brownie was messy and reckless and quick, Bunnie took his time, treating his kills like elegant works of art. The one thing they had in common, however, was that neither of them accepted offers from clients wanting someone taken out for petty, selfish reasons. Their targets were always criminals, rapists, people who would did horrible things to people with no remorse. Brownie and Bunnie never killed innocents. Another thing they had in common was that they had never been in a situation quite like the one they had found themselves in.
Brownie had snuck into the target's house with ease, the alarm system was almost laughably easy to break into. Faint music drifted through the house, the sound almost like that of a lullaby. Brownie guessed the target was listening to music in his bedroom, something to help him fall asleep. The assassin should've felt bad, but he couldn't. The sound of footsteps on marble flooring caught Brownie's attention. He inwardly cursed and dove behind the nearest object: an obnoxious houseplant. Through the limbs and leaves of the plant, Brownie saw a young female, probably the target's latest lay or maybe even wife, pass by and begin grabbing her things. It wasn't long before the woman was out the door and Brownie was clear to exit. He realized it would be in his best interest to be careful, he didn't know who may be in the home, so he glanced around and smiled to himself at the sight of the airvent. He quickly pulled the cover off, grabbed the sides and hoisted himself into the shaft. The fit was tight and there was no light inside, save for far ahead where the airvent opened again into one of the rooms. Brownie shuffled awkwardly through the tight space, keeping as quiet as he could with the sound of his clothing scraping against the metal walls. It almost made him nervous, but he never allowed himself to worry too much. It was so dark in the airvent that Brownie didn't see the other person in front of him, peering down into the room. He didn't realize he wasn't alone until his head collided with the unknown person's backside.
"What the fuck," the unknown squealed and dove forward. Brownie reached into his pocket with a bit of a struggle and pulled his emergency flashlight out, turning it on and shining it at the person before him. The other man was dressed similarly to Brownie, the only difference being that his clothes were much looser and probably allowed him to move through more easily. His frame looked small, but Brownie couldn't even see his face. The other man attempted turning around but the tight space wouldn't allow it.
"Who the fuck are you?" Brownie exclaimed. He was confused as to why there was another man in the airvent, was it a peeping tom? A stalker? Who was he? The other man practically growled at Brownie's question but he responded, nevertheless.
"You can call me Bunnie, now could you scoot the fuck out of here?"
Brownie mused over that name, Bunnie, as he back-crawled through the airvent. He had heard the name in passing, it was someone he might've considered a rival if he had cared enough but he didn't. Brownie wasn't into the idea of fighting for title of top assassin, he just earned a little money, took out some bad guys and called it a day. It seemed to take longer backing up out of the crawlspace than it did to crawl into it, and with Bunnie's ass right in his face, scooting back along with him, the awkward tension was so thick it could've been cut through with a butterknife. Brownie dropped out of the open airvent with a loud thud he was positive would alert the house's inhabitants, but he was more interested in the man that was falling out of the airvent after him. Bunnie dropped down with much more grace and Brownie was shocked at his appearance. The man looked around the same age, with long, curly brunette hair and big, doe eyes. Bunnie was shorter, but his presence made up for what he lacked in height. The man had an intimidating and elegant aura to him that Brownie hadn't expect. He was also a lot younger and definitely more attractive than Brownie had expected.
Bunnie looked at Brownie expectantly, as if Brownie owed him something, to which Brownie cocked his head and smirked. "Can I help you with something?" He asked. Bunnie narrowed his big, brown eyes and pulled his lips into a firm frown.
"Who are you and why are you here?" He asked. His voice was soft, despite the harsh tone he had and it reminded Brownie of home and his friends and everything he left behind. Maybe that's why he smirked so widely at the shorter male and stepped closer, too close for either of them to be comfortable, really. "You can call me Brownie."
Bunnie snorted. Of course it was Brownie, who else would be slipping into some rich idiot's air ventilation in the dead of night?
"So you're telling me you were fuckin' hired to kill this man, too?" Bunnie barked out. Although his voice had taken on a hostile edge, Brownie was seemingly unaffected, and every bit as cocky as he normally was.
"That's exactly what I'm saying," he responded. Their eyes were dead-locked onto eachother's as they waited for one of the to take a move. Bunnie was the first to break, as it turned out. He reached into the pocket of his loose-fitting jeans and pulled out his pistol, not aiming it anywhere in particular but still having it out if he needed it. Brownie followed his action and pulled his own pistol out of the holster strapped to his hip.
"It doesn't take two men to do a job," Bunnie said. The wheels in his brain were turning and turning; he had concluded there was something going on here, he just didn't know what. Brownie's smirk seemed permanent, which irked Bunnie to no end. The taller man slowly walked a circle around him, taking in his appearance and letting out a small tut.
"I can't tell where your back ends and your ass begins with all that extra material hangin' on you," Brownie said with a mockingly sad tone. Bunnie smirked and tapped his pistol on Brownie's shoulder in warning. "Good, then my clothes are doing their job."
Brownie reconnected their eyes and ran his free hand through his hair with a practiced nonchalance as he said, "Maybe your clothes are doing their job too well. Maybe you should get rid of them, hm?" Bunnie balked at that and pointed his pistol directly at Brownie's chest. "One more filthy word and you're dead. Get fuckin' lost, this is my job," his words were dripping with venom, so much so that Brownie nearly apologized. But he didn't, and he wouldn't. He wasn't ever the type to say sorry and he wouldn't start then. The assassins stared eachother down for what felt like forever, they were so focused on eachother that they hadn't heard the sound of heavy feet slapping against marble flooring.
"Who the fuck are you two?" A deep voice bellowed. Brownie and Bunnie's pistols were up within a second and the sound of bullets firing echoed off the walls. Throughout the whole ordeal, the two assassins never broke eye contact.