Yixing always wore the same thing. A suit of many in his wardrobe in which he had Wendy help fix his tie, and a gun hidden in the waistband of his pants, carefully secured so that no one would spot it. However, that cover up wasn't really necessary - anyone who knew the man, or knew of him knew that he had something up his sleeve, whether it be a knife, an explosive or his personal favorite, a 45 caliber pistol.

He never wore cuffs, they got caught on too easily and were a pain to undo. Wendy called him the no cuff man and he scoffed at that. They were useless accessories and Yixing never found pleasure or appeal in the small studs.

Hand in hand with his deadly legacy amongst the eastern society of mafia and crime, Yixing always had Wendy with him, and he honestly thought that people feared her more than him. True, she was striking and beautiful but when she was angry, she got angry. Although, her strong point was her poker face - you could never tell what she was thinking, what she planning until it came at you.

Yixing himself could never see Wendy hurting anyone - but that was before he actually saw her in action. He was twelve at the time, only just getting the hang of shooting a real gun instead of his air rifles, and one of the guards at the time were talking in korean and Yixing couldn't fully comprehend the language at the time.

"Useless stink." He'd said when Yixing missed the target for the nth time, "You'll never make it in the industry, boss should've had another kid." Yixing had frowned. He'd heard the word kid, but nothing else. So he was confused when Wendy stepped in, practically seething and he remembers it like it was yesterday, the memory fresh in his mind.

Grabbing the collar of the guard, she brought him close to her face, hot breath on his nose. "What did you ing say?" However, the guard didn't get to answer, because Wendy threw him to the floor and he heaved a breath, the wind knocked out of him.

Swiftly, Wendy tured him onto his back, twisting one of his arms behind his back and he screamed in pain. Her face was blank of emotion as she pouted her bottom lip. She leaned down, whispering loud enough. "Poor thing. Luckily the training rooms are soundproof, otherwise boss' sleep would be disturbed by your screams, wouldn't they?" She forced more pressure onto the twisted limb and Yixing swore he'd heard something crack.

The guard whimpered and in muffled Korean, began to beg. "I-I'm s-sorry..."

"Your apologies mean nothing." It was pitiful as she stood and left him there, dusting her hands off. The woman acted like nothing had happened, despite Yixing's wide, perplexed eyes. She gave him the gun again and practise cotinued. From that day on, no one made fun of Yixing because Wendy was always there, listening in.

Said woman was sitting beside him in the passengers seat. She had her phone out and was reading the latest news report.

"Last night in Yongsan, youngest member of the Gong family dies, due to a brutal attack. His body was found in the street at around eleven, appearing to be 'severely beaten and lying in a puddle of blood'. Police have found a cause and are not yet sure of a motive, but there are a number of suspects and they have not yet ruled out the possibility of the drug dealing faction that is known to roam that area--"

"--That's enough Wendy, thank you." Yixing says, tired. He mutters under his breath, "Now we have to get a sweeper in, stupid highschoolers. This is why we don't get minors to do the job. They don't clean up after themselves. Dammit I told them not to leave the body out, specifically!"

Gong Yoo was a drug addict, and coming from a wealthy family, had enough money to buy millions off of the black market. However, he began to dig deeper into his contacts. He was trouble from the start Wendy had said, but when one of Yixing's sources informed him of the teen's investigations, Gong was targeted.

Wendy only nods, putting her phone away and it goes silent for all but two seconds before she says again. "Your father comes into tonight."

He gives her a sideways glance raising an eyebrow as if to say, do I care? But he doesn't. Instead he gives a short, "And?"