Introductions: A Coalesce Graphic (2/?)

 ( r e ) i n t r o d u c i n g : 

chadwick boseman as anthony wilson howard
"just a young gun with a quick fuse."

Team Roles: Kang Ent.

Damage Control: A Blogsary Short

Kang Enterprises

Atlanta, GA

United States of America

May 2017

Tony was sure that Jin-ho’s choice to let go of the darker and sketchier path was the best damn choice he’d made in ages. “It’s about fucking time,” he muttered. “Maybe I can regain my peace of mind this time around and stop thinking of whether your father will rise to murder me or not.”

“He won’t do that, he’s cremated.” Jin-ho waved off the other’s worry, though Tony could very much see the traces of relief crawling back into the other’s expression. Tony liked that more, if he had to be honest—there were times wherein Jin-ho could be a little shit, but he’d much rather have that side of Jin-ho that the side who was jumpy, wrecked, and had his hands stained far more than any other person in the company.

He was about to comment on that small slice of dark humor, but a knock came on the door with Mathieu stepping in quickly. He stopped, looking at the two others with an apprehensive look. “…bad time?”

“Not at all. We’re more relaxed than ever, to be honest,” Tony admitted. That wasn’t much to fully ease down Mathieu’s nervous pangs, but he saw the redhead’s shoulders relax slightly. “Any updates on what happened to Lee?”

“Nothing. It’s like he just disappeared.” Mathieu came forward and sunk into one of the two chairs in front of Jin-ho’s desk, groaning. “I’ve been talking to everyone I could—police connections, employees at the bar—Jian hasn’t shown up anywhere ever since that incident.”

Team Profile: Kang Ent.

Wreck/Ruin: A Blogsary Short

Kang Residences

Atalnta, GA

United States of America

  

Mathieu knew that he owed Kang Enterprises so, so much.

Stumbling across Jin-ho back in San Francisco, if anything, a fortunate accident. After trying to pick up the pieces and live for his own in the United States after the clusterfuck that was his (shitty) father, he didn’t really expect much for himself. Most of it died away after his ma died and his father was (forced) to pick him up because of custody or some shit. He wasn’t sure—he always thought that he and his ma were going to make it in France somehow.

But she died and his father picked him up and basically raised him as a son, except: there was hardly any love, any effort put into it. Sure, there was the cash—the Silvestres were privileged enough to have a financially stable life—but that was it. His father was out all the time, there was business to deal with, he probably had another family at that point.

He hated it.

Moving away, finally leaving didn’t feel so much better. He bounced around the States, picking up whatever he could do and living to sustain himself until that one night wherein he was walking back from wherever the hell he came from and turned a corner to his apartment when—

Long story short, Mathieu managed to beat away these assholes who managed to shove this Asian-looking fellow onto the ground. Jin-ho was groaning when Mathieu managed to support him into his apartment, and when he turned the lights on, the redhead swore fuck because the other fellow looked bad.

Aesthetics: Kang Ent.

Bonds: A Blogsary Short

i.

When Jin-ho first met Tony, he never really thought that he’d have to work with him from an early age. Anthony Howard was merely someone who worked for his father; he would always see him around his father’s office or around the actual office building, dressed smartly in a navy suit and a tie that looked close to grey. Tony would greet Jin-ho would a polite smile, though Jin-ho was never really sure if the eyes hiding behind Tony’s dark sunglasses were smiling too or not.

Then again, he didn’t really expect his father to die so soon, either.

The two already knew each other before the death of Tae-min, so things weren’t too awkward. Despite that, bonding over death was never really the best thing.

(But for them, it worked. Somehow.)

After the death of his father, Jin-ho worked at much later times, woke up earlier than he tended to. Sleep was suddenly less of a necessity to him than it already was; he found himself grieving through work and work alone.

His mother noticed but never spoke up, not wanting to intrude. She respected that if that was how he would grieve, then that would be how he’d grieve.

Tony noticed.

Teaser #02: Blogsary '16

truth | change | meaning | sacrifice

To the Nines: A Russie Features Short

Kang Manor

Atlanta, Georgia

United States of America

August 2016

Whenever being interviewed, the question concerning being like his father would always rise. And the answers he gave would always be the same; Jin-ho would give a small laugh, fold his hands on his lap neatly, put on that quiet smile, tone down the confidence and instead increase humility. Open his mouth and speak about never being able to reach his father’s heights. Speak about recognizing that he would never be as good, but that he would do his best to live up to the Kang standard.

All of it would come to the point of it sounding rehearsed. He was surprised that the media hadn’t made any comment about it; that no newspaper or magazine had published how many times he just recycled his words endlessly when it came to living under the shadow of his father. But they kept quiet and he kept doing it anyway until the words tasted like nothing in his mouth.

Mathieu caught him after yet another interview. He merely remained backstage, waiting for Jin-ho to finish up. When they were both in the car, Mathieu cleared up his throat and spoke up. “You know, you’re starting to look and sound like a machine when you talk to those people.”

“I know. Don’t tell me,” Jin-ho replied shortly. Mathieu merely shrugged.

“I’m just saying. Seems like you’ve got a mask on.”

Succession: A Russie Features Short

Kang Residence

Atlanta, Georgia

United States of America

May 2011

“Mother.” Jin-ho’s throat felt dry, tight as he took in the image of his grieving mother. Da-hyeon tucked her handkerchief into her pocket and turned to him, reacting to the touch of her son. “You need to rest. I’ll keep watch.”

“You have to settle things for the business,” she told him. Park Da-hyeon, despite having been crying silently since the whole affair started, still maintained her calm, firm voice. “Fulfill your duties as father would have wanted for you.”

“His duties as your husband and my father come first than his duty as a businessman.” He squeezed his mother’s shoulder, “Please, mother. Let me do this. I need it. And you need the rest. Tony’s willing to stay.” A couple of feet away, Tony stood there solemnly with his trademark shades over his eyes. Da-hyeon sighed quietly before nodding and rising. Immediately did two of the guards approach them, Jin-ho asking them in a hushed voice for them to accompany her back to her room and keep watch. “Please rest, mother. I’ll meet you in the morning.”

“Of course.” She looked at her son from head to toe with an unrecognizable look and turned to move out of the room, nodding to acknowledge Tony on her way out. The male sent a small smile her way before making his way to Jin-ho, who this time adopted his mother’s position. The sound of the door closing reached their ears and Jin-ho let out a slow exhale of his own.

He too felt a hand on his shoulder but didn’t look back. “I can manage,” he told him. Tony rolled his eyes.

“I know that you’re tired too, Jin-ho. Your mother could see that.”

Tremble: A Russie Features Short

Kang Residence

Atlanta, Georgia

United States of America

May 2013

“Jin-ho, I’ve got a couple of things for you to sign,” Tony said plainly, stepping into the man’s office with a bored expression. The man’s brows furrowed at the center upon realizing that Jin-ho was not sitting at his desk as he usually would, and stepped further into the room with a hint of caution. “Jin-ho?” he asked carefully, dropping the stapled papers onto the nearby chair. His hand went to the gun holster and he wrapped it around the grip, senses heightened upon hearing short, heavy breathing coming from the back corner. “The fuck…”

Upon reaching the area, his brown eyes widened upon seeing Jin-ho on the floor, a hand clamped over his mouth and his own eyes looking panicked. The Korean, upon seeing Tony, attempted to speak but was unable to, merely choking on his breath. Cursing, Tony hastily approached the man, setting his hands carefully on the other’s shoulders. “Hey, hey. You’ll be fine. Okay? Come on. We know how to do this.” 

Jin-ho shut his eyes and both of them did exactly what they had grown accustomed to doing. Tony counted. With every multiple of three, Jin-ho attempted to breathe in. At 30, the Korean’s breath started to grow lengthier, less tense. At 66, Jin-ho’s shaking had subsided. At 84, he had opened his eyes. Catching sight of Tony there made his apprehensions fade out slightly, and Tony slowly slackened his grip. “How you doing?”

“I feel like death,” Jin-ho croaked. At that, Tony gave the smallest of smiles. 

“Yeah.” A laugh, “That’s what usually happens. Need anything?”

Jin-ho took a shaky breath. He had been able to remove his hand from his mouth at 36. “Water. I…I need water.” 

“Got it.” Tony pressed something and spoke — probably speaking to the mic clipped onto his collar — asking for a pitcher of water and a single glass. “Anything else?”

Offering: A Coalesce Short

Mathieu’s Apartment

San Francisco, CA

United States of America

February 2012

“So, you mind telling me how you got banged up like that?”

“Jesus Christ…it’s a long story,” Kang Jin-ho groaned. He held the ice pack to his head and looked at the man who had saved him, who was currently making a drink for both of them. “Thank you, by the way. Never got to know your name after staying here and borrowing your ice pack.”

From the counter, the man gave a small chuckle. Jin-ho estimated that this guy was in his early twenties, despite what seemed to be his large frame initially. Then again, there was a chance that he was slightly concussed and the dark never really did do favors for anybody. “Mathieu Silvestre. Just call me Mathieu. And yours?”

“Kang Jin-ho. Though I doubt the name’s familiar,” he added the last part as an afterthought and cringed as the icepack hit a relatively sore spot. “Fuck.”

“Still aching?”

“Unfortunately.” Jin-ho glanced as Mathieu approached them both with what appeared to be two cups of tea, and the redheaded male pushed the steaming cup towards him. “Tea?”

“It’s what helps me,” Mathieu shrugged as he lifted the cup to his lips. He paused before speaking, “Unless alcohol is more your style?”

“It is on most days.” Jin-ho set down the icepack before taking the tea, “But this seems to work as much.”