In Others Words

                                    

                                          
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In other words...
A year later
The cold breeze of the wind rushed through the car window then across his clothes, sweeping his hair gently to the side. Despite it being a summer night, the man still shivered. He shifted his hand from where it was gripping the steering wheel. He squinted his eyes - it was dark where he parked.
His gaze fell on the mirror, having caught the image of his red-dyed hair. Red. The color of blood. He absently ran a hand through it. A reminder. He dyed it as a reminder. To remind himself of all the blood that had been wasted. The blood of his fellow players that had been spilled in exchange for the prize money that he got. So every time he would spend it, he'd be reminded where it came from. He looked away, a lump forming in his throat.
It was silent, save from his breathing which sounded louder in his own ears. He chanced a peek at the woman who was standing beside the bus stop sign. The woman was fidgeting around, waiting just like as he was.
It was only three days ago when he had called that number. He was almost there. He was almost on the plane, so close to escaping the country and leaving all the bad memories behind. 
But he couldn't do it. He had turned his back on the easy path and went the opposite way. He had called the number again, intending to go back to the games for this year, retribution on his mind. 
I'll end this. This has to end. 
...hold my hand
The frontman had blocked his calls but it wasn't too difficult to find a potential player. That's when he met that woman and followed her for three days, knowing that some time later, the mysterious car would fetch her.
And now we're here. If only they'd hurry up.
As if hearing his thoughts, a pair of headlights suddenly blared to life, illuminating the woman. Gihun smiled and discreetly brought his car to life. He followed them.
Here goes nothing.
In other words...
He left his car near the pier and went inside the big cargo ship, carrying his black duffel bag. He came prepared. He hid inside the toilet and took out the red coat and black mask from his bag. He smiled without mirth as he stared at it and thought, a player, a winner, and now a minion...next, I'll be sure to get the superior this time and take him down.
Take all of this down.
He walked out of the toilet, immediately spotting other masked, red-coated men. He nodded at them, cocking his own gun, hiding it behind a pillar as he did so.
Time to play.
...Darling, kiss me
Last year, he was the one on the table. He was the one unconscious, everything being stripped away from him by the minions. This time, he was the one doing the stripping. He looked around bemusedly as players were being readied for the first game. 
There were 456 of them again.
And will grow lesser if I do not hurry, Gihun thought grimly.