Sleepwake (Part 6/?)
See Part 1 for disclaimer.
Xiaoyu fixed her eyes on Jin's. She pulled her hands out of his grasp and crossed her arms, her voice surprisingly solemn as she said, flat out:
"I won't leave you."
Hwoarang watched Xiaoyu and Jin engage in a staring contest, his mind racing. This was one side of Kazama that he'd never seen or thought of before, this desperation. He cursed his luck: finally, he'd found his rival, only to discover a battered opponent who was too tired to swat a fly, much less give him a good fight.
"Be reasonable, Xiaoyu, think about what you're saying!"
He surveyed the room: the place looked like his apartment the morning after he'd had a few too many drinks. It was obvious something big was up, and Hwoarang wanted to know what it was.
"You don't know the Tekkenshu like I do. They're ruthless. They'll do everything they can to eliminate me, and they don't care who they hurt in the process!"
The temperature of his blood dropped a few degrees at the mention of the Tekkenshu. Hwoarang had them to thank for his survival skills, in addition to half the scars on his body. But the Tekkenshu belonged to Heihachi Mishima: why would the old bastard target his own grandson?
Hwoarang felt a familiar edge of paranoia creep into his consciousness, and his senses heightened, automatically on the look out. It was a feeling he'd come to trust, a sign of warning.
"I won't leave you."
There was something off here that he couldn't quite place. It wasn't the room. It wasn't the talk about the Tekkenshu.
"They'll kill you without a second thought if they see you with me. Do you want that? Do you want to die?"
Was it the girl? Ridiculous. And it wasn't Kazama, as much as he hated him.
Hwoarang shut his eyes, tapping into his other senses. The smell of month- old fast food. The cool air conditioning against his skin.
"I _won't leave_ you."
"I'm a fugitive now! Running is going to be my entire life, however briefly that may last. I can't let you condemn yourself to that!"
"Jin! Aren't you listening?"
Wait, what was that noise? The faintest whirring, almost inaudible under Jin and Xiaoyu's raised voices. He knew this sound.
It sounded like, like-
"_Damn_!"
Hwoarang cursed loudly, though the other two hardly noticed. He crossed the room in two strides, zeroing in on the bedside lamp. Smashing it, he combed his fingers through the shards, ignoring the shallow cuts on his skin.
Xiaoyu was the first to notice his actions.
"What was-? Why are you doing that?" she asked, looking frazzled.
"Nothing here," was the mumbled reply. Hwoarang continued on to the telephone, which he threw against the wall. His hands moved with a practiced efficiency, but there was no reward inside the phone set. Frustrated, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think. That's where they usually hid, disguised in phones and lamps. Yet the whirring noise was still there. But where?
Jin was now staring at him too.
"'The hell are you doing? Like the room's not trashed enough as it is."
As it is. . .already trashed.
Realizing what he'd overlooked, Hwoarang found the pile of bath towels in one dusty corner, shaking them out and searching through the pieces of broken lamp that fell to the floor.
Jackpot.
"This! This is it!" he said, triumphantly holding the black square of circuitry up for the others to see, before tossing it back on the floor and grinding with his heel until only unrecognizable smithereens were left.
"You're a nutcase," Jin stated.
"And you're a half-wit. Do you realize what that _was_?"
"My telephone and both my lamps?" Jin said, his eyes lingering mournfully on scattered glass and plastic.
"No you idiot, that was the Tekkenshu, listening to the entire freakin' six- hour long conversation you two just had!"
"They were bugging us?" Xiaoyu asked in obvious panic, "Then why aren't they here? They'd come for Jin!"
Hwoarang shook his head, remembering his long history with police departments all over the country.
"It must've been too long. Always the same: they stop live monitoring after a week or so, and only check the tapes every night. Shit, what time is it?"
Xiaoyu glanced at her watch. "Eleven fifty-two."
Hwoarang looked her dead in the eye, hoping he was wrong but knowing otherwise:
"Replay time is midnight."
There was only a second's pause, and then all three left the room, oddly silent and also unified in face of imminent threat. Hwoarang strode ahead of the others, keeping his pace measured: running would call attention and that was the last thing he wanted right now. Xiaoyu followed behind, with Jin's arm draped heavily over her shoulder for support. Hwoarang felt a tinge of guilt for letting her struggle with the burden of Jin's weight alone, but pride wouldn't allow him to offer his adversary help unless Xiaoyu asked. She didn't.
As they finally stepped into the open night air outside the dorm building, Xiaoyu shot him an inquisitive look.
"What now?" she whispered, her eyes darting back and forth. Hwoarang also strained to see into the dark, scanning the murky shapes of automobiles in the parking lot for any sign of life.
"What is this, follow the leader? You two catch a cab to the airport and fly the hell away, while I hightail it back to my pad and hope the Tekkenshu won't track me down."
"Um, too late." Jin said.
Humanoid forms in bulky armor appeared, melting out of the shadows with surprising stealth. Hwoarang swore softly as he watched them cock their guns.
Click-click.
Hwoarang sighed, feeling his stomach drop to his feet, while his adrenaline shot sky-high.
"This is gonna get ugly."
Author's notes:
I have not died, I've merely been suffocating under a two-story-tall stack of schoolwork. I wish I could update more regularly, but it just doesn't seem to be fated ::shakes head sorrowfully::.
Oh, and a BIG thanks goes out to Sam Blackcrow, who did a great job beta- reading even though I didn't apply all of those wonderful suggestions cuz I ended up hacking off and rearranging 25 percent of this chapter. Thanks Sam! ::waves ecstatically:: And everybody, go read Desperate Measures, because it's beautiful, and pester Sam to write more.
On a totally non-fanfic tangent, I think you guys would really enjoy some of the following websites:
Megatokyo: www.megatokyo.com
I envy Piro-san. I wish I could draw like that.
Tuesday: www.tuesdaycomic.com
::takes deep breath:: I will not gush. I will not gush.
Brunching Shuttlecocks: www.brunching.com
These guys are _so_ funny. Check out the movie reviews. You will laugh.
Jet Li: www.jetli.com (well what did you expect?)
Because the site design is gorgeous, and his martial arts is gorgeous, and Mr. Li is very very gorgeous.
Constructive criticism will be printed out and framed. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Yum
See Part 1 for disclaimer.
Xiaoyu fixed her eyes on Jin's. She pulled her hands out of his grasp and crossed her arms, her voice surprisingly solemn as she said, flat out:
"I won't leave you."
Hwoarang watched Xiaoyu and Jin engage in a staring contest, his mind racing. This was one side of Kazama that he'd never seen or thought of before, this desperation. He cursed his luck: finally, he'd found his rival, only to discover a battered opponent who was too tired to swat a fly, much less give him a good fight.
"Be reasonable, Xiaoyu, think about what you're saying!"
He surveyed the room: the place looked like his apartment the morning after he'd had a few too many drinks. It was obvious something big was up, and Hwoarang wanted to know what it was.
"You don't know the Tekkenshu like I do. They're ruthless. They'll do everything they can to eliminate me, and they don't care who they hurt in the process!"
The temperature of his blood dropped a few degrees at the mention of the Tekkenshu. Hwoarang had them to thank for his survival skills, in addition to half the scars on his body. But the Tekkenshu belonged to Heihachi Mishima: why would the old bastard target his own grandson?
Hwoarang felt a familiar edge of paranoia creep into his consciousness, and his senses heightened, automatically on the look out. It was a feeling he'd come to trust, a sign of warning.
"I won't leave you."
There was something off here that he couldn't quite place. It wasn't the room. It wasn't the talk about the Tekkenshu.
"They'll kill you without a second thought if they see you with me. Do you want that? Do you want to die?"
Was it the girl? Ridiculous. And it wasn't Kazama, as much as he hated him.
Hwoarang shut his eyes, tapping into his other senses. The smell of month- old fast food. The cool air conditioning against his skin.
"I _won't leave_ you."
"I'm a fugitive now! Running is going to be my entire life, however briefly that may last. I can't let you condemn yourself to that!"
"Jin! Aren't you listening?"
Wait, what was that noise? The faintest whirring, almost inaudible under Jin and Xiaoyu's raised voices. He knew this sound.
It sounded like, like-
"_Damn_!"
Hwoarang cursed loudly, though the other two hardly noticed. He crossed the room in two strides, zeroing in on the bedside lamp. Smashing it, he combed his fingers through the shards, ignoring the shallow cuts on his skin.
Xiaoyu was the first to notice his actions.
"What was-? Why are you doing that?" she asked, looking frazzled.
"Nothing here," was the mumbled reply. Hwoarang continued on to the telephone, which he threw against the wall. His hands moved with a practiced efficiency, but there was no reward inside the phone set. Frustrated, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think. That's where they usually hid, disguised in phones and lamps. Yet the whirring noise was still there. But where?
Jin was now staring at him too.
"'The hell are you doing? Like the room's not trashed enough as it is."
As it is. . .already trashed.
Realizing what he'd overlooked, Hwoarang found the pile of bath towels in one dusty corner, shaking them out and searching through the pieces of broken lamp that fell to the floor.
Jackpot.
"This! This is it!" he said, triumphantly holding the black square of circuitry up for the others to see, before tossing it back on the floor and grinding with his heel until only unrecognizable smithereens were left.
"You're a nutcase," Jin stated.
"And you're a half-wit. Do you realize what that _was_?"
"My telephone and both my lamps?" Jin said, his eyes lingering mournfully on scattered glass and plastic.
"No you idiot, that was the Tekkenshu, listening to the entire freakin' six- hour long conversation you two just had!"
"They were bugging us?" Xiaoyu asked in obvious panic, "Then why aren't they here? They'd come for Jin!"
Hwoarang shook his head, remembering his long history with police departments all over the country.
"It must've been too long. Always the same: they stop live monitoring after a week or so, and only check the tapes every night. Shit, what time is it?"
Xiaoyu glanced at her watch. "Eleven fifty-two."
Hwoarang looked her dead in the eye, hoping he was wrong but knowing otherwise:
"Replay time is midnight."
There was only a second's pause, and then all three left the room, oddly silent and also unified in face of imminent threat. Hwoarang strode ahead of the others, keeping his pace measured: running would call attention and that was the last thing he wanted right now. Xiaoyu followed behind, with Jin's arm draped heavily over her shoulder for support. Hwoarang felt a tinge of guilt for letting her struggle with the burden of Jin's weight alone, but pride wouldn't allow him to offer his adversary help unless Xiaoyu asked. She didn't.
As they finally stepped into the open night air outside the dorm building, Xiaoyu shot him an inquisitive look.
"What now?" she whispered, her eyes darting back and forth. Hwoarang also strained to see into the dark, scanning the murky shapes of automobiles in the parking lot for any sign of life.
"What is this, follow the leader? You two catch a cab to the airport and fly the hell away, while I hightail it back to my pad and hope the Tekkenshu won't track me down."
"Um, too late." Jin said.
Humanoid forms in bulky armor appeared, melting out of the shadows with surprising stealth. Hwoarang swore softly as he watched them cock their guns.
Click-click.
Hwoarang sighed, feeling his stomach drop to his feet, while his adrenaline shot sky-high.
"This is gonna get ugly."
Author's notes:
I have not died, I've merely been suffocating under a two-story-tall stack of schoolwork. I wish I could update more regularly, but it just doesn't seem to be fated ::shakes head sorrowfully::.
Oh, and a BIG thanks goes out to Sam Blackcrow, who did a great job beta- reading even though I didn't apply all of those wonderful suggestions cuz I ended up hacking off and rearranging 25 percent of this chapter. Thanks Sam! ::waves ecstatically:: And everybody, go read Desperate Measures, because it's beautiful, and pester Sam to write more.
On a totally non-fanfic tangent, I think you guys would really enjoy some of the following websites:
Megatokyo: www.megatokyo.com
I envy Piro-san. I wish I could draw like that.
Tuesday: www.tuesdaycomic.com
::takes deep breath:: I will not gush. I will not gush.
Brunching Shuttlecocks: www.brunching.com
These guys are _so_ funny. Check out the movie reviews. You will laugh.
Jet Li: www.jetli.com (well what did you expect?)
Because the site design is gorgeous, and his martial arts is gorgeous, and Mr. Li is very very gorgeous.
Constructive criticism will be printed out and framed. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows. Yum