Title: The Killing Games
Pairing: Kyuhyun-centric, potential pairings in the future
Genre: Serial Killer!AU
Warnings: Violence, gore, language, murder, character death. NOT FLUFF
Summary: It started off as just a harmless accident, but it was fun, so he continued.
Note: We don't agree with Kyuhyun's description/view of members mentioned, but it was necessary for the story.
Kyuhyun realized that there were a lot more annoyances in his life than he had originally thought. For one thing, there was that neighbor, that girl who liked to sing while taking her yapping dog for a walk at six in the morning, a time that Kyuhyun used for sleep. There was the mailman, who made his rounds past Kyuhyun’s house at six fifteen and blasted girly pop music that he couldn’t stand. Even hearing his neighbor in the apartment above his walking around, the creaks reaching Kyuhyun’s ears, annoyed him.
There were so many little annoyances that he had overlooked before. But now that he was in on his new game, he took note of so much more, because one should always pay attention to detail in order to win at any game.
His life was rather boring, he realized, so it was good that he had a new game to spice it up a little. He wore a small, dangerous smirk on his face as he went about his usual morning routine, his practiced movements almost robotic, having done them for so long.
He was meticulous in his routine, always eating the same cereal and drinking the same amount of coffee, black and bitter, just the way he liked it. He would skim over the newspaper, solving the Sudoku puzzle in under seven minutes before turning to the news.
But the news was never exciting. Some kid team won a baseball game, stocks from this company are up, this idol donated this much money to this charity anonymously. Please. If it was anonymous, then why does everyone know?
Kyuhyun pushed the newspaper away, his smirk widening at the thought of what he could make the headlines read. So-and-so found dead. Police have no suspects.
He folded his hands in front of his face, a calculating look in his otherwise cold eyes as he began plotting in the ten minute time period he had before he would need to leave in order to catch the train on time. The sun was shining and it wasn’t a busy day on the streets, so he had some time to kill – some time to plan on who to kill.
Kyuhyun was a genius, a fact that he was very well aware of. He could analyze any given situation and come up with at least five different plans to get the most favorable outcome to him. He could look at someone, reading them and learning little things about them merely from observing their little, almost unnoticeable habits. He could take these observations and come up with various ways to kill them and make it look like an accident.
For example, there was the man who let people through the gates to the train every day. Day by day, without fail, he would have a cup of coffee in his hand as he let people through, half asleep as he did so. Slipping in poison hemlock would be simple, and Kyuhyun could be long gone by the time the man drank his laced coffee and died.
But he really didn’t have any poison hemlock at hand, and it would be a bother needing to go through security checks at the train station once the man was killed, so Kyuhyun didn’t attempt his murder. At least, not yet. Besides, he needed that man to let him through to get to work, so perhaps another time.
The people on the train, however, Kyuhyun would not mind killing at all. There was an old lady who reeked of cats and smoke, her knitting needles clacking together as she made yet another horrendously colored scarf. Kyuhyun would have loved to strangle her with her own scarf, or maybe even stab her with those needles, but there were too many witnesses.
There was the fat man who breathed too loudly, snorting his snot back into his nose every few minutes because he seemed to always have a cold. Kyuhyun felt his fingers twitch as he resisted the urge to punch that man and break his damned runny nose. The fact that he sighed loudly after every sniffle, then licked his fingers to turn his book didn’t exactly help Kyuhyun’s fraying patience from snapping.
It would be simple, oh-so-easy to put some powdered biocide of some sort on the newspaper, where it would then be collected on the man’s fingertips and licked off, slowly entering his bloodstream and killing him within hours.
There was a man far too cheery who would loudly slurp his coffee before resuming his animated conversation with the equally cheery woman, his wife, beside him. They worked at the same company, in the same department, their offices right across from each other. That’s how they’d met and fallen in love, as they liked to talk about far too often for Kyuhyun’s liking. Once was bad enough, but hearing them giggle about it nearly every day was enough to make Kyuhyun want to bash their heads together to bring their incessant chatter to an abrupt, bloody halt.
There were people who felt the need to cough every two minutes and people who slept, mouth wide open and snoring loudly. There were the people in the nice suits and shiny shoes, talking loudly on their cell phones, wanting all those within a mile radius to hear how important they were, making huge deals, bigotry evident in their voices. There were the teenagers in the corner, wearing dark clothes and wearing headphones, their loud, heavy music blasting out for all those present to hear. The kids who thought they were edgy, but really were little more than just that – children.
Kyuhyun plotted swift and painless as well as slow and torturous deaths for each and every passenger on the train during the fifteen minute ride, and he longed to try them all out, but he had arrived at the bank.
The bank. The place that Kyuhyun hated, yet spent a whole third of his day at, doing boring work that paid the bills. It was the one place that held more annoyances than Kyuhyun’s apartment or the train, because so many idiots that didn’t know how to manage their money came in there, desperate for help.
Kyuhyun is a financial manager, one of the highest positions at the bank, so thankfully he doesn’t always need to interact directly with the morons beneath him. However, as he was the best the bank had to offer, he still had his fair share of customers, none of whom he particularly liked.
There was a couple on the verge of divorce, the both of them going behind the other’s back, to Kyuhyun, trying to get him to help separate their accounts without their spouse knowing. Kyuhyun didn’t know whether to laugh or be frustrated with the stupidity of the pair of them.
There was an overly flamboyant man, who, for what he lacked in brains, made up for in riches. He never had to work a day in his life, and now that his daddy was retiring, he needed help managing his finances, which was where Kyuhyun came in. Kyuhyun helped balance the books, and the customer was too stupid to realize that he was overpaying Kyuhyun. Kyuhyun wouldn’t tell him that though, because Kyuhyun thought that it was his customer’s own fault for being so idiotic.
He even had a customer that came in to, of all things, flirt with him. He was bright enough and could easily manage his own finances without the assistant of anyone, let alone the top financial manager. Yet he came in weekly, without fail, ready to ask Kyuhyun for help and try to not-so-subtly flirt with Kyuhyun.
It was bad enough that Kyuhyun had to assist idiots, but working with them was even worse. The tellers were loud and obnoxious, their voices sickly sweet as they needed to act friendly and chipper to anyone and everyone that came in. There were those in customer service, smiles bright and welcoming as they patiently answered the questions of the morons that used the bank. There was the president’s perfect son, another financial manager, new workers transferred in from other branches and that stupid janitor that was always tripping over his own feet.
Kyuhyun was sick of it, sick of it all. These nuisances needed to be eliminated. But one of the problems with being a genius was that one would come up with brilliant ideas in a short amount of time, yet have so little time to carry them all out. How does one decide which scheme to carry out first, or which hindrance to eliminate first?
“Good morning, Kyuhyun-sshi!” a young man chirped, grinning widely and trying his hardest not to shrink away from Kyuhyun’s cold glare. “Er, anything you need me to do for you, sir?”
“Henry…” Kyuhyun ground out, not even bothering to nod at the younger male in acknowledgment. Granted, Henry was only one year younger than Kyuhyun, but it was obvious that he was completely inferior to Kyuhyun.
Henry was one of the new recruits, transferred over from one of the branches in China. Fresh out of college, the kid was lucky to have landed a job in the banking business, though he really didn’t enjoy it at all. But he needed to pay off his college loans, so he couldn’t be picky in his job of choice.
His Korean was terrible, his math skills even worse. All he seemed to be good for was getting under Kyuhyun’s feet and in his hair, smiling that chubby-cheeked, tiny-eyed grin at Kyuhyun when he greeted him every morning, asking him what he could do for him.
Of course, of all those in the bank, the president had chosen Kyuhyun to show the newbie the ropes. Yes, Kyuhyun was the best choice as he was the best the bank had to offer, but it didn’t make it any less irritating for Kyuhyun. He had finances to manage; he didn’t have time to show some failure new guy how to add.
“Well, sir?” Henry asked, trying not to irritate Kyuhyun too much, but failing quite miserably since he decided to grin at the older male.
“Tell Yesung to prepare my coffee,” Kyuhyun answered shortly before heading into his office and shutting the door, blocking off any reply Henry may or may not have given him.
Yesung was the janitor of the bank, and was therefore, to put it bluntly, everyone’s bitch. Whenever anyone needed something to eat or drink, Yesung was sent to get it because clearly he was the least important person working there. He was a clumsy fool, only allowed to continue working at the bank because he was rather good at cleaning, and very few people were actually willing to do what Yesung did for a living.
Yesung was of an even lower standing than the transfer, Henry, despite having worked there for a much longer period of time. So even though Henry was the youngest at the bank, the grunt work still went to Yesung.
Kyuhyun had neither the time nor the patience to deal with or think about the cheery young boy or the clumsy janitor. He just wanted to get his work done, as quickly as possible so he could spend the rest of his office hours doing something more enjoyable, namely, killing aliens in StarCraft.
He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a folder and placed it before himself at the center of his desk. This was an important folder, containing the monetary information of the rich, flamboyant male that would be coming in later that evening.
Kyuhyun wasn’t looking forward to his client coming in, not at all, but it was a nice thought to think of how much he would be paid. He was due for a raise sometime soon, actually. There were just a few people that needed to be eliminated, for fun and to assure that he got that raise soon.
Kyuhyun allowed a smirk to grace his features as he gazed out his glass window, watching all his co-workers bustling about, cheerfully oblivious to their upcoming demises. Perhaps he would end Henry first. Henry was the cause of a good portion of his headaches, though not always directly. The lanky teller would always coo at Henry and pinch his cheeks affectionately, occasionally letting out a shrill, girlish squeal, painful on the ears.
Henry enjoyed singing, too. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good at it, because he actually was, but cheerful singing is not what Kyuhyun wants to hear when he’s trying to focus on financial issues that others are having. What’s more is that the boy hums and whistles and is always trying to get Kyuhyun to come listen to him play the violin.
Violins are loud and screechy, and Kyuhyun hates loud and screechy.
“I’ve got your coffee, Kyuhyun-sshi!” the janitor sang when he burst into Kyuhyun’s office, yet again forgetting to knock. “Are you sure you don’t want any sugar in it? It might cheer you up a bit!”
“What makes you think I’m not cheerful?” Kyuhyun asked in a low, mysterious tone, his eyes taking on a dark look as he gazed almost menacingly at Yesung.
Yesung blinked a few times, shifting awkwardly, for it seemed as if Kyuhyun’s gaze was piercing his soul and draining all the life out of him.
“Well, here,” Yesung stammered, quickly thrusting the cup in Kyuhyun’s direction, the mug slipping from his small hands and falling with a loud clatter on Kyuhyun’s desk, cracking and spilling steaming hot black coffee all over Kyuhyun’s paperwork and clothes.
“K-Kyuhyun-sshi!” Yesung stammered, face going a pale white as Kyuhyun slowly looked up at Yesung, surprisingly calm in spite of the fact the steaming hot coffee was spilled over such important papers and his lower regions.
“Yesung…” Kyuhyun ground out, slowly and carefully, the dark look having returned to his eyes. He could scream and swear and call Yesung an idiot, but he suddenly didn’t feel like doing that.
“I’m sorry! So, so sorry!” Yesung emphasized, waving his arms. “I’ll clean it up right away! Please remain calm!”
“I am calm,” Kyuhyun replied in that same, deep tone. “In fact, this is the calmest I’ve been at this office in a while…”
Yesung swallowed, suddenly worried for the mental stability of Kyuhyun, because what sort of person was perfectly calm after hot coffee spilled over their documents and clothes?
“I’ll be back, Kyuhyun-sshi,” Yesung said, slowly backing out of the room. “I’ll just get same paper towels and cleaning spray and be back in no time!”
“Take your time,” Kyuhyun said, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow, almost rolling his eyes when Yesung turned and walked into the window in his attempt to leave the room.
Kyuhyun should have screamed when the scalding hot coffee hit his legs. He should have blown up at the bumbling moron, but he truly did become calm at that moment. The calm came as sudden and without warning as the coffee. It was the kind of relaxed feeling one would get when they suddenly knew exactly what to do.
Kyuhyun knew who he was going to kill next.
Yesung was a klutz, of this he was very much aware. He seemed to always be tripping over his own feet, ramming his large head into doorways and the handle of his mop, his cleaning supplies often falling out of his too-small hands.
He never seemed to be able to do anything right. Honestly, he never wanted to be a janitor, but he had few other options. He wasn’t intelligent enough to get a job much better than working at a fast food joint, and he wasn’t good looking enough to do what he truly wanted to do – sing.
He loved singing, more than almost anything in the world. He was blessed with a glorious voice, and could easily become a singer, if only he were better looking and less of a failure. But he knew being a singer was out of his reach, so he contented himself with singing while going about his daily routines.
Sometimes he would be so wrapped up in his singing that he wouldn’t pay attention to where he was walking, and often ended up with one foot in a mop bucket, barely registering the cold feeling of the water before tumbling to the floor.
People always told him that it would be the death of him, his absentmindedness and his clumsiness. Yesung would just laugh it off; he wasn’t the sort to be affected by such comments, as he had heard them his whole life.
Kyuhyun knew of Yesung’s habits of singing while cleaning. He knew that Yesung didn’t sing quietly, but he sang loud enough that he couldn’t hear, say, one sneaking up behind him.
Kyuhyun also knew Yesung’s routine, as Kyuhyun was the observant sort who learned and memorized things quickly. He knew that, at five pm, just as everyone was preparing to leave the bank, Yesung would talk to the President’s son, try to tell a joke and end up stumbling over his words. Yesung would then bow at the young man before scurrying off to make his rounds.
It was pathetic, really.
From there he would clean the bathrooms, the time it took varying on whether or not some inconsiderate asshole took a dump in there, or if Yesung ended up face-planting on the floor thanks to a mop bucket or stray paper towel. After the bathroom was satisfactory, Yesung would then go around and clean the windows, spraying them down and wiping them with a cloth until they sparkled.
By this time it was usually nearing six o’clock, and nearly everyone would be out of the bank. Kyuhyun was still there, sometimes, because he would get wrapped up in a computer game and be unwilling to leave until every last alien had been eliminated. There were four trains that ran to his apartment after work, and he would always be sure to make one of them, even if it was the last one for the night.
After the windows were gleaming, Yesung would wipe down the desks and then gather all the trash up to be taken out to the dumpster in the back.
Kyuhyun, of course, took all of this knowledge and planned his moves carefully.
Kyuhyun had let several of his coworkers see him exit the building and begin his walk to the train station. He didn’t act out of the ordinary and therefore didn’t rouse any suspicion, even if his colleagues were smart enough to notice any changes in him.
Once he rounded the corner, Kyuhyun made his way back to the bank, taking the back roads so as to not be seen by his fellow bankers. He waited until everyone except for Yesung exited the bank before slipping back in, being quiet and careful, avoiding the security cameras, because of course he knew all of their blind spots.
He made his way to the very back of the bank and entered the janitorial closet that was now empty of nearly all its supplies, as Yesung was using them to do his job.
Kyuhyun stood very still and listened, waiting patiently, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he rotated the rusty, metal dustpan in his hands in anticipation.
Yesung began singing, the song ironically being slow and sad, describing the feeling of dying as one’s love wasn’t returned. Kyuhyun sneered, finding the song quite fitting to the mood.
Surprisingly, Yesung didn’t wipe out in the bathroom, and actually managed to clean properly before moving on to wiping down the bank. It was then that he tripped over something, presumably a chair, and Kyuhyun heard Yesung yelp before falling to the floor with a thud.
Yesung groaned in pain, but Kyuhyun heard him stand back up and resume his singing and cleaning. Kyuhyun was getting sick of the song by this point, but he needed patience, he reminded himself. There was no need to rush into this. He had a strategy and he needed to stick with it.
Finally the bank was completely wiped down, and Kyuhyun heard the rustling of trash bags as Yesung went about his final chore of the day. It took a bit longer than usual – someone had dropped something on the floor, leaving a stain – but Yesung was finally done collecting the trash.
Kyuhyun heard the singing get louder as Yesung passed by the closet in which Kyuhyun was hiding, and he waited until it faded out a bit before slipping out, creeping behind Yesung as he walked out of the back of the building, trash bags in hand and still belting out depressing song lyrics.
If Yesung hadn’t been singing, he would have heard that the door didn’t shut behind him right away like it normally did. If he hadn’t had his eyes closed while singing, he would have seen the ominous shadow looming over him from behind. If he hadn’t been singing or so clumsy, Kyuhyun probably wouldn’t have repeatedly bashed him in the back of the head with the metal dustpan until he blacked out.
Kyuhyun’s strikes were hard and precise, hitting that tender part on the back of Yesung’s skull that had him seeing stars before the second blow landed. By the fourth, blood was dripping down the dustpan and Yesung was long gone, but Kyuhyun didn’t care. There was something thrilling about literally bashing someone’s skull in, particularly the skull of someone he honestly didn’t like.
Kyuhyun kept bashing Yesung’s head until it was little more than a mixture of messy hair, deep blood and pulpy flesh. Only when Kyuhyun could literally see the skull did he cease his strikes. Even then he wanted to continue.
But that would be overkill, and besides, he needed to catch the train. He brought the dustpan over to the manhole and dropped it down, grinning in satisfaction when he heard the splash of the dustpan hitting the sewer water.
He made his way over to the dead body, slumped on the ground, and picked it up carefully, nearly grunting from the effort. He was wearing gloves, of course, and taking special care not to leave any evidence behind. He stuck Yesung partially in the dumpster, arranging it to look as if he had fallen before dropping the lid on Yesung’s head, not even wincing at the sickening, splattering sound it made. In fact, the sound made him smirk wickedly as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking away casually as if he hadn’t just committed a brutal act of murder, even going so far as to whistle that song Yesung was previously singing.
He didn’t even spare the poor man a glance. After all, he was just one opponent Kyuhyun managed to bring down. There were many, many more to come.