Talon's Edge: Life of the Talon

Chapter 9:

The rain continued to fall and blood mixed with water as the coldness of the ground began to seep into Hwoarang's bones. Flickering in and out of consciousness, Hwoarang reached back to feel the puncture wound in his back. Blood slowly oozed from the small hole and Hwoarang shuddered slightly as pain still racked his body. Looking at his now bloody hand a wave of fear and despair washed over his entire being. In his mind voices from the past called out to him.

"You are no good...why were you even born...you'll never become anything...just give up..."

As these feelings of loss and depression began to sink in, Hwoarang's breathing slowed and his vision began to dim. His breathing became more shallow and with each breath his mind faded a little more into blackness. Finally, with one last shudder, silence filled the alley.

The cold night closed in on Hwoarang as he lay alone on the dark cold pavement, his body surrounded in darkness and despair. Nothing could be heard in this deathly silence except for the cool, steady beating of the rain on the wet ground.

A sudden crash of lightning filled the night sky and Hwoarang's body jerked violently as his lungs took in the cool night air.

"I will not let them win," he thought as his mind snapped back into awareness.

Slowly with stubborn determination, Hwoarang slid one hand forward, grasping onto the ground, and with sheer force of will began to pull himself forward.

The thunder crashed loudly and Baek 's eyes snapped open. Sweat covered his forehead and from his deep rapid breathing anyone could see that he awoke from a vivid dream. The room was dark except for the brief flashes of lightning that ever so often filled the room with scattered light. Rolling over slightly the warrior tried to will himself to sleep, but his mind would not let him fall back into a restful slumber.

The intensity of the dream frightened him. It started with him fighting his father, the same routine that lead to his eventual death. But this time the dream was different. As he watched himself leap into the air in anger, his feet flying forward towards his father's face, the ceiling of the dojo was ripped off and a large blast of hot air sent both he and his father flying across the room. Their backs hit the wall hard and both looked up to see a huge black shape against the night sky.

In his gut Baek felt a twinge of fear creep into his soul at the sight of the foul thing as it stepped over the wall, its huge reptilian wings spread wide as it settled in the middle of the destroyed dojo. It's mouth stretched wide as it let out a foul breathed roar. Then it's eyes turned and locked with Baek's eyes.

His mind screamed to fight, to stand and defend himself, but that evil vice like gaze held him still. Slowly the beast approached him, so close that the hot thick breath made the hair on his head flicker slightly. It's huge clawed hand reached out and Baek knew that this was the end and there was nothing he could do.

In that instant Baek's father stepped into the beast's gaze. Baek was finally able to pull away from the hate filled eyes, but was only able to sit and watch as the horrid creature, unaware that its intended target was no long the same person, grabbed Baek's father. Using its gigantic clawed hand the huge monstrous form lifted Baek's father high in the air. Baek could only sit and watch in horror as his father's soul began to seep from his body. A bright mist like white light that shone from the beast's foul grip. Baek's father turned for one brief moment and father and son shared a look, then...

"I woke up," thought Baek as he shuddered once again at the dream. Opening his eyes again he gave up on trying to sleep. Grabbing a loose shirt, Baek moved into the main dojo and dropped down to his knees, closing his eyes to meditate and clear his thoughts.

"This dream was so different and so real," he thought to himself. Shaking the thought from his mind he began to focus inward. First relaxing the muscles in his shoulders and neck. Then moving down to his back and arms. Flexing and relaxing the muscles of his abdomen and then finally moving down to his legs. Once his body was completely relaxed he focused inward even further, feeling the beating of his heart. When his body was completely at ease with itself, so deep that even the rage that always burned underneath the surface was only a small whimper, he began to move.

Rising from the ground with the fluid grace of a trained master he began to rain blows on the empty air. One fist swept forward followed quickly by the other. After each series of two blows he would raise his knee as if to kick, but just as quickly drop it down again as his fists cut the air with sharp quick strikes. Finally his knee came up and was quickly followed by three smooth quick kicks.

The moves came faster and faster, linking together one after another as Baek flew around the room in a deadly dance. His perfectly honed body seemed to not tire at all, even though the pace of his blows went faster and faster. Finally his attention turned towards a punching bag hanging in the corner of the room. The bag shuddered as his fists pounded twice one after another into the bags now wounded side. Then jumping forward almost as fast as the eye could see, he placed two perfectly placed kicks towards the top of the bag. The chain snapped and the bag flew back and hit the wall with such force that cracks spread from the point of impact. Before the bag settled to the ground Baek's foot was already high in the air. It almost seemed to glow with energy as it smashed down on the bag, splitting it in half and dumping the sandy contents out onto the floor.

Baek sighed a little as he surveyed the damage he had caused. Even now after years of training with Marshall Law he still sometimes lost control.

"I have got to stop doing that," he thought to himself with a chuckle.

The rain was still poring outside as he moved to get a broom to clean up the large pile of sand. Glancing out the windows the lightning flashed again and stopped Baek in his tracks. Quickly he ran to the window and as the lightning flashed again the outline of a bloody hand print could clearly be seen on the wet glass.

Rushing to the door the rain pelted him in his face as he quickly pulled it open and rushed around to the side of the building. His heart leapt to his throat as he saw the familiar form of Hwoarang laying on the ground, barely breathing. He quickly went to his side his practiced eyes and hands searching for his injuries. Anger coursed through him as he saw the knife wound in the boy's side, but he kept it in check as his concern for grew for the young red haired boy.

A small moan of pain slipped from Hwoarang's lips as Baek scooped him into his arms and carried him into the dojo. Setting him down gently Baek ran to the back office and grabbed a first aid Kit.

"Don't worry Hwoarang," Baek said as he knelt down beside the young boy.

The injured boy cracked open his eyes slightly as Baek started to work on his wound.

"Baek," said Hwoarang in a weak whisper.

Leaning in close to hear him Baek replied, "Yes Hwoarang, I'm here."

"I don't need your help," said Hwoarang as the corner of his mouth moved slightly into a very small but recognizable smirk.

Baek's eyes opened at first in shock, but then he laughed slightly and shook his head as he continued to clean and dress the knife wound. Hwoarang's eyes closed again and he finally fell into unconsciousness.