- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- Saturdays and Sundays.
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Transgender
- Genres
- Romance. Modern. Dystopian. Horror.
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SEOK-JAE MO . .
| GROUP: PRIDE | LOCATION: IN A CAR | MOOD: "FUCKIN' WHATEVER." | MENTIONED: - | INTERACTED: @Luxii |
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The phone rang.
It was lazily put to voicemail.
"Hello, this is Officer Keller from the Los Angeles Police Department. You are a suspect for the murder of Andrew Crawford and you are being called for individual interrogation today at 1:30 P-M. If you do not arrive today we will have a warrant for your arrest, as well as a warrant to inspect your household. The Police Department is located on 3-3-5-3 North San Fernando Road."
The message ended with a loud beep.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!... I have to fucking go?! This shit is mandatory?!" Seok Jae groaned sleepily, suddenly angered by the fact that he could get his house inspected if he didn't go to the police station. What kind of world has this generation come to? Seok Jae peeled his body off his bed slowly, his blankets sticking to his exposed torso like depressed hearts to heart-attack-worthy desert concoctions. He walked over to the bathroom and did his usual routine. Back to the bedroom, usual routine. Kitchen? Usual routine. Back to the bedroom to change, but it's still the usual motherfucking routine. An over sized T-shirt and ripped denim jeans. Simple and lazy, like his existence.
Seok Jae's mind was on autopilot the whole time while he thought about what to do during the interrogation. Nothing came up however, so he just had to make shit up on the fly when he got there. He knew that winging shit would end badly for him, but he prayed to himself, as he was his own deity, that it was going to go peachy.
Seok Jae exited the house and entered his car, punching the address addressed by the officer into Google Maps, his anger starting to boil because Google Maps was being a little bitch.
"Not to-fucking-day, Google Maps. Not today."
Magically, as if the app heard him, the address and directions were shown on the screen, and Seok Jae began his drive. During car rides, Seok Jae sat and stared indifferently at the road in front of him, never too happy, never too sad. If he drove long enough, he'd probably get highway hypnosis, and that was okay, whatever he needed to release tension he did so happily.
Seok Jae would have missed his location if it wasn't for the robotic female voice signaling that he was at his destination. Catching the GPS' voice just on time, Seok Jae mimicked the phrase "You have reached your destination" annoyingly, bringing himself to amusement with his little stupid impression. He entered the interrogation room, but a lady, who looked like she hated her job and loved telling random strangers about it, immediately asked Seok Jae to enter the interrogation room. He complied.
Seok-Jae casually walked into the interrogation room with nothing else to lose but his attention span. He was alone for the most part, so he sat on the chair that was for oppressed confessions by an insignificant victim and criss-crossed applesauced his legs together, his face flat and his attention drifting. While waiting for the officer to come into the room, Seok-Jae pondered over moments he can vaguely remember in his outnumbered, desolate, childhood. Memories that didn't even shape him into what he is today, but glued the pieces of a bent and misshapen cardboard jigsaw puzzle: so when one put it together it was a messed up, jigsaw puzzle from the dollar store, out of place cardboard tabs, Mo Seok-Jae.
He thought about how the orphanage doubted his mentality, the caretaker imagining a five year old brunette who couldn't understand the concept of two times two's sad trajectory. From breaking kids' toys to.. stealing houses. The twenty-something Mo Seok Jae who was sitting in an room as a suspect for questioned the feasibility of this imagination, staring down at the table's soft red cedar, pockmarked and gouged from years of other people's enthusiastic ticks. How would he do it? Pick them clean up off their foundations? Dismantle them brick by brick and rebuild them miles away? Move in when the owners went on vacation and barricade himself inside? It didn't make sense. But after that day's parental lectures, Seok-Jae's future was planned at such a young age: a one-ear-and-out-the-other lecture one day, a grounding the next, and before you know it . . . stealing houses. Seok-Jae sighed softly, tapping his fingers against the wooden table, the officer still not in for his questioning. His breath slowly and smoothly transitioned his brain into another thought.
He remembered some Cantonese kid staying in the orphanage. He was in his late teens and smelled like seaweed and the powder packet the orphans got from dry uncooked ramen and Spam musubi for lunch. English was hard for the motherfucker, and that's what made him noticeable. The kid was a gentle 5'9 outcast, but that was no big secret. Everything was big..ger back then. The kid once got in trouble for showing a drawing he graciously conceived of a flower bridge, pointing it out to some other whiny teen rebel and confidently saying "flower bridge" in Cantonese: fa kieu. After the spectacle, it was a classic excuse for the orphans to say "fuck you" to each other at the dinner table.
The quiet knock and squeak of hinges opening broke Seok Jae's thought bubble like an iPhone screen. Seok Jae looked up to see the officer, the name tag, J. Keller. The officer sat down on the chair in front of Seok Jae, face indifferent. He was quiet, a little too quiet, and his fingers fidgeted around with the papers and folders glued to the palms of his hands. Seok Jae looked at the officer with impatience, but, as if something higher was watching over him, the officer began speaking, but Seok Jae's mood was still unfazed, dying to disrespect all over the officer's age-affected lookin' face.
"We will start with your Miranda Rights. Everyo--"
"Yeah, yeah, I fuckin' got it already, let's just get the questions out of the way so I can go jerk off."
"....Where were you Saturday night between 7PM and 10PM?"
"I was at my own club, Club Essence."
"What were you doing at that time?"
"Hunting for motherfuckin' gorillas of course!" Tae snickered at the officer's irrelevant questions, but he decided to comply after the officer gave him a warning for his sarcasm. "For godsakes I was running my fucking club during that time."
"Was anyone with you when you were running the club?"
"The gorillas... Okay! Okay, sorry, I was just kidding. No one was with me when I was handling my club."
That was the last time he was going to pull an immature ass attitude in front of an officer.
"When was the last time you saw the deceased, Andrew?"
"I'm sorry, but I didn't know the guy too well. I do know that he was close friends with this other group, people you probably already interrogated."
"How was the deceased murdered?"
"Do I look like a fuckin' murderer to you, officer? I don't fuckin' know, why don't you tell me Mr. Know-It-All?"
Sike. Immaturity fuckin' galore.
Instead of telling him, the officer threw a single folder in Seok Jae's general direction. The folder flew open and multiple crime scene photos of Andrew slid out onto the table. Signs of struggle was written all over his dead, bloody, body. Starting at the pictures for more than a while, Seok Jae's jaw muscles were locked, the sides of his tongue chewed meat, burning as he probed his mouth to find slices of dead skin hanging on the inside of each cheek. He's seen a whole bunch of shit and the side effects didn't phase him, but the fact that someone did this, and the fact that it was all pointing to Pride, made Seok Jae want to run away. The group was going to be in deep shit. There was no way a Pack rat could have done this.
"What was your personal relationship with the deceased?"
The officer's voice made Seok Jae come back to reality. This wasn't the time to be sensitive or else he'd be pleading his insane ass not guilty behind bars.
"Like I said, officer. I didn't know him."
"Do you know anyone that could have done this?"
"No. I seriously don't. And to be honest with you, I don't give a single fuck. dude."
I don't give a fuck. the five syllabled sentence that made Seok Jae end the interrogation on a horrible note. He was asked to remove himself from the room immediately, the officer clearly done with his remarks.
"I hope your day is as nice as my ass, officer.~" Seok Jae added in a bland tone of voice before hearing the door click behind him.
Seok Jae's phone jingled in his jean pocket, he slid the phone out and his phone lit his face up. A text message from Dom. What a sweetheart.
"After Police Interrogation bullshit, meet outside of Aloha Mi Amigo. Fucking A.S.A.P., or I'll beat the shit out of you."
Seok Jae analyzed the text, wondering why out of all places, a ghetto ass restaur--
"OH HO HO, HEEEEELLLLLLLL NO."
Seok Jae laughed at his phone rudely. Aloha Mi Amigo was obviously the Pack's meet up place. Shit was about to go down, and as much as Seok Jae loved beating the shit out of people who deserved it, he didn't want to waste his energy. He hurriedly rushed to the car, sitting in the front seat and ready to drive home to chillax. But before turning the keys in the ignition, he decided to text that college kid.
"Kid, you goin' to that ghetto restaurant or nah? I'm not. I'll get my ass kicked by that insensitive fuck no problem. If you're not going we can chill or whatever"
Message Sent
Without even thinking about it, Seok Jae tossed his phone into the passenger seat of his car and drove off home, blasting his radio down the San Fernando road.
[/bg]It was lazily put to voicemail.
"Hello, this is Officer Keller from the Los Angeles Police Department. You are a suspect for the murder of Andrew Crawford and you are being called for individual interrogation today at 1:30 P-M. If you do not arrive today we will have a warrant for your arrest, as well as a warrant to inspect your household. The Police Department is located on 3-3-5-3 North San Fernando Road."
The message ended with a loud beep.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!... I have to fucking go?! This shit is mandatory?!" Seok Jae groaned sleepily, suddenly angered by the fact that he could get his house inspected if he didn't go to the police station. What kind of world has this generation come to? Seok Jae peeled his body off his bed slowly, his blankets sticking to his exposed torso like depressed hearts to heart-attack-worthy desert concoctions. He walked over to the bathroom and did his usual routine. Back to the bedroom, usual routine. Kitchen? Usual routine. Back to the bedroom to change, but it's still the usual motherfucking routine. An over sized T-shirt and ripped denim jeans. Simple and lazy, like his existence.
Seok Jae's mind was on autopilot the whole time while he thought about what to do during the interrogation. Nothing came up however, so he just had to make shit up on the fly when he got there. He knew that winging shit would end badly for him, but he prayed to himself, as he was his own deity, that it was going to go peachy.
Seok Jae exited the house and entered his car, punching the address addressed by the officer into Google Maps, his anger starting to boil because Google Maps was being a little bitch.
"Not to-fucking-day, Google Maps. Not today."
Magically, as if the app heard him, the address and directions were shown on the screen, and Seok Jae began his drive. During car rides, Seok Jae sat and stared indifferently at the road in front of him, never too happy, never too sad. If he drove long enough, he'd probably get highway hypnosis, and that was okay, whatever he needed to release tension he did so happily.
Seok Jae would have missed his location if it wasn't for the robotic female voice signaling that he was at his destination. Catching the GPS' voice just on time, Seok Jae mimicked the phrase "You have reached your destination" annoyingly, bringing himself to amusement with his little stupid impression. He entered the interrogation room, but a lady, who looked like she hated her job and loved telling random strangers about it, immediately asked Seok Jae to enter the interrogation room. He complied.
Seok-Jae casually walked into the interrogation room with nothing else to lose but his attention span. He was alone for the most part, so he sat on the chair that was for oppressed confessions by an insignificant victim and criss-crossed applesauced his legs together, his face flat and his attention drifting. While waiting for the officer to come into the room, Seok-Jae pondered over moments he can vaguely remember in his outnumbered, desolate, childhood. Memories that didn't even shape him into what he is today, but glued the pieces of a bent and misshapen cardboard jigsaw puzzle: so when one put it together it was a messed up, jigsaw puzzle from the dollar store, out of place cardboard tabs, Mo Seok-Jae.
He thought about how the orphanage doubted his mentality, the caretaker imagining a five year old brunette who couldn't understand the concept of two times two's sad trajectory. From breaking kids' toys to.. stealing houses. The twenty-something Mo Seok Jae who was sitting in an room as a suspect for questioned the feasibility of this imagination, staring down at the table's soft red cedar, pockmarked and gouged from years of other people's enthusiastic ticks. How would he do it? Pick them clean up off their foundations? Dismantle them brick by brick and rebuild them miles away? Move in when the owners went on vacation and barricade himself inside? It didn't make sense. But after that day's parental lectures, Seok-Jae's future was planned at such a young age: a one-ear-and-out-the-other lecture one day, a grounding the next, and before you know it . . . stealing houses. Seok-Jae sighed softly, tapping his fingers against the wooden table, the officer still not in for his questioning. His breath slowly and smoothly transitioned his brain into another thought.
He remembered some Cantonese kid staying in the orphanage. He was in his late teens and smelled like seaweed and the powder packet the orphans got from dry uncooked ramen and Spam musubi for lunch. English was hard for the motherfucker, and that's what made him noticeable. The kid was a gentle 5'9 outcast, but that was no big secret. Everything was big..ger back then. The kid once got in trouble for showing a drawing he graciously conceived of a flower bridge, pointing it out to some other whiny teen rebel and confidently saying "flower bridge" in Cantonese: fa kieu. After the spectacle, it was a classic excuse for the orphans to say "fuck you" to each other at the dinner table.
The quiet knock and squeak of hinges opening broke Seok Jae's thought bubble like an iPhone screen. Seok Jae looked up to see the officer, the name tag, J. Keller. The officer sat down on the chair in front of Seok Jae, face indifferent. He was quiet, a little too quiet, and his fingers fidgeted around with the papers and folders glued to the palms of his hands. Seok Jae looked at the officer with impatience, but, as if something higher was watching over him, the officer began speaking, but Seok Jae's mood was still unfazed, dying to disrespect all over the officer's age-affected lookin' face.
"We will start with your Miranda Rights. Everyo--"
"Yeah, yeah, I fuckin' got it already, let's just get the questions out of the way so I can go jerk off."
"....Where were you Saturday night between 7PM and 10PM?"
"I was at my own club, Club Essence."
"What were you doing at that time?"
"Hunting for motherfuckin' gorillas of course!" Tae snickered at the officer's irrelevant questions, but he decided to comply after the officer gave him a warning for his sarcasm. "For godsakes I was running my fucking club during that time."
"Was anyone with you when you were running the club?"
"The gorillas... Okay! Okay, sorry, I was just kidding. No one was with me when I was handling my club."
That was the last time he was going to pull an immature ass attitude in front of an officer.
"When was the last time you saw the deceased, Andrew?"
"I'm sorry, but I didn't know the guy too well. I do know that he was close friends with this other group, people you probably already interrogated."
"How was the deceased murdered?"
"Do I look like a fuckin' murderer to you, officer? I don't fuckin' know, why don't you tell me Mr. Know-It-All?"
Sike. Immaturity fuckin' galore.
Instead of telling him, the officer threw a single folder in Seok Jae's general direction. The folder flew open and multiple crime scene photos of Andrew slid out onto the table. Signs of struggle was written all over his dead, bloody, body. Starting at the pictures for more than a while, Seok Jae's jaw muscles were locked, the sides of his tongue chewed meat, burning as he probed his mouth to find slices of dead skin hanging on the inside of each cheek. He's seen a whole bunch of shit and the side effects didn't phase him, but the fact that someone did this, and the fact that it was all pointing to Pride, made Seok Jae want to run away. The group was going to be in deep shit. There was no way a Pack rat could have done this.
"What was your personal relationship with the deceased?"
The officer's voice made Seok Jae come back to reality. This wasn't the time to be sensitive or else he'd be pleading his insane ass not guilty behind bars.
"Like I said, officer. I didn't know him."
"Do you know anyone that could have done this?"
"No. I seriously don't. And to be honest with you, I don't give a single fuck. dude."
I don't give a fuck. the five syllabled sentence that made Seok Jae end the interrogation on a horrible note. He was asked to remove himself from the room immediately, the officer clearly done with his remarks.
"I hope your day is as nice as my ass, officer.~" Seok Jae added in a bland tone of voice before hearing the door click behind him.
Seok Jae's phone jingled in his jean pocket, he slid the phone out and his phone lit his face up. A text message from Dom. What a sweetheart.
"After Police Interrogation bullshit, meet outside of Aloha Mi Amigo. Fucking A.S.A.P., or I'll beat the shit out of you."
Seok Jae analyzed the text, wondering why out of all places, a ghetto ass restaur--
"OH HO HO, HEEEEELLLLLLLL NO."
Seok Jae laughed at his phone rudely. Aloha Mi Amigo was obviously the Pack's meet up place. Shit was about to go down, and as much as Seok Jae loved beating the shit out of people who deserved it, he didn't want to waste his energy. He hurriedly rushed to the car, sitting in the front seat and ready to drive home to chillax. But before turning the keys in the ignition, he decided to text that college kid.
"Kid, you goin' to that ghetto restaurant or nah? I'm not. I'll get my ass kicked by that insensitive fuck no problem. If you're not going we can chill or whatever"
Message Sent
Without even thinking about it, Seok Jae tossed his phone into the passenger seat of his car and drove off home, blasting his radio down the San Fernando road.
SONG: WREAK HAVOC
ARTIST: SKYLAR GREY
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