A/N:
I'm hurt *sniff*. No one reviewed my original second chapter. So I made it better! It's totally different guys, and more to the plot. The beginning's sort of the same, but it changes, I swear! Hope you like it!
It was eight o' clock and Hwoarang and his army buds had KP for another week. After adding up the total amount of times at least Hwoarang had gone AWOL, he practically invented the term, he had been AWOL fifty-six times in the two years he was in the army. The captain finally decided to sentence Hwoarang fifty extra laps per week. Of course the red-haided Korean didn't mind. Baek had made him do worse things.
Thinking of his teacher sent a a sudden longing once again for the old days. He was heartsick for his gang, Baek and, though he found it hard for him to swallow, he even missed the people of the King of Iron Fist Tournament. His sadness made him even more of an ass than usual. Even the drillmasters noticed the change in his personality.
"Hwoarang! What is wrong with you? We've been through this drill at least twenty times before and you've always done it perfectly! Now shape up and do it right!"
Hwoarang glared at the drillmaster. "Maybe if you weren't such an awful teacher I would get it right!" he snapped angrily.
The teacher stared for a moment. Hwoarang was ALWAYS difficult, but he normally didn't insult his superiors so directly. Quickly regaining her composure, the drillmaster's eyes hardened. "Alright fire-hair, if that's the way you want it, you get to come here every morning two hours before sunrise and make up this drill until you get it *perfectly*. For your impertinence, you get run five laps around the field as soon as it rains!" seeing the rest of the class had stopped to watch, the drillmaster shouted, "Did I tell you to stop? Get to work unless you wanna join Mr. Hwoarang!"
Quickly, the rest of the group continued the drill. Low punch, high kick, high block, mid block, dodge left, low kick right block. To Hwoarang, it was totally pointless. He learned all this before! he had needed to, Baek had said that in order to get the better moves down, he needed to synchronize his attacks, his blocks and counter attacks. "If any of these are done even a milisecond later, it leaves you vulnerable." he had been scolded. Every time the blocks, attacks or counter attacks were late, Baek immediatly punched his weak point.
Again, his heart ached for his past. Again, his foot slipped as he released his low kick.
'Damn, I'm just timing this perfectly aren't I?' he thought angrily. That was how his day had conitnued. Messing up, getting yelled at, shouting back, and getting new punishments. He was even cold to his friends.
"Hey Hwoarang, what's wrong?" Arick asked quizzically. "You're normally only this pissed when you've got a major hangover."
"Shut up!" he snapped. "You wouldn't be in such a good mood either. This place sucks."
Arick was thoroughly confused. "What? You've never complained about the army before. Well, you have, but not, so...straightforward. I don't get it."
Hwoarang's anger quickly turned into hatred. He now glared at not a friend, but an enemy.
"You wanna make something of it, bastard?"
Arick's eyes widened in shock. "Wha-what did you say?!" Hwoarang's anger seemed contagious, and they were soon staring each other down, ready to fight.
Hwoarang smirked. "You heard what I said. C'mon! I can take you!"
Arick's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't be able to if your life depended on it." His voice was dangerously low, his muscles tensed as he readied himself for combat.
As soon as the words spilled out of his mouth, Arick realized what a big mistake he had just made.
Hwoarang charged, and immediatly kicked out low knocking Arick off his feet as he slid under him. Arick stood and faced Hwoarang, waiting for him to make the next move. Hwoarang moved closer and kicked out with first his left and then his right leg in quick succesion, leaving his back vulnerable but neutralizing Arick for the time being. He jumped back up onto his feet and threw furious punches at Hwoarang's face. Hwoarang blocked all but one punch and stepped back to recover. Arick advanced as Hwoarang stood in ready position. When Arick was close enough, Hwoarang ducked down low and kicked his adversary in the shins and then in the torso, sending Arick up into the air. As he fell, Hwoarang kicked him rapidly. Arick landed with a thud, and got up slowly. Hwoarang was already upon him. He grabbed him by his arm, kicked him once in the stomach and then ground his heel into Arick's face. Hwoarang kicked out, and a sickening crack was heard. He let his opponent drop to the ground.
A crowd had gathered around the two fighters, and everyone gasped as Arick's body fell. For a while, no one moved. The only sound that could be heard was Hwoarang's labored breathing. Soon a girl came up to Arick and checked for a pulse. Hwoarang recognized the girl, Emica. She had loved Arick dearly ever since she had first seen him, and now she sat beside him, determining his condition. Soon she stood and faced the onlookers.
"He...he's dead." she said shakily. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed beside Arick crying.
Hwoarang's expression remained passive. His face never showed any sort of emotion, even as Emica sat there, weeping over Arick's lifeless body, screaming "He's dead! He's dead!" into her hands. Hwoarang could not tell how long he stood there. He watched as Emica's friends picked her up and took her to her bunk. When his other three friends yelled at him, even tried to hit him, he just stood there, none of their words going to his mind. He felt as if nothing would connect right. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't show emotion. He just walked obediently as drill sergants took him to see the captain for his punishment. Behind him he heard more drill sergants picking up the Arick's bloody body and carrying it off somewhere.
As drill sergants restrained him, Hwoarang regained his senses. He realized what he had just done. He had fought one of his best friends over a silly arguement. He could have easily told his friend to give up. Instead, he killed him. He remembered the crack of Arick's neck, what it had felt like. He remembered the feeling of fighting when he knew his opponent didn't stand a chance, and the adrenaline rush as he claimed victory of a worthless, bloody battle.
A corner of his mouth curved upward. Most importantly, he had liked it.
A/N:
Well? Well? Was it better? Was it worse? Did you like it? More stuff to come! Please R&R!
I'm hurt *sniff*. No one reviewed my original second chapter. So I made it better! It's totally different guys, and more to the plot. The beginning's sort of the same, but it changes, I swear! Hope you like it!
It was eight o' clock and Hwoarang and his army buds had KP for another week. After adding up the total amount of times at least Hwoarang had gone AWOL, he practically invented the term, he had been AWOL fifty-six times in the two years he was in the army. The captain finally decided to sentence Hwoarang fifty extra laps per week. Of course the red-haided Korean didn't mind. Baek had made him do worse things.
Thinking of his teacher sent a a sudden longing once again for the old days. He was heartsick for his gang, Baek and, though he found it hard for him to swallow, he even missed the people of the King of Iron Fist Tournament. His sadness made him even more of an ass than usual. Even the drillmasters noticed the change in his personality.
"Hwoarang! What is wrong with you? We've been through this drill at least twenty times before and you've always done it perfectly! Now shape up and do it right!"
Hwoarang glared at the drillmaster. "Maybe if you weren't such an awful teacher I would get it right!" he snapped angrily.
The teacher stared for a moment. Hwoarang was ALWAYS difficult, but he normally didn't insult his superiors so directly. Quickly regaining her composure, the drillmaster's eyes hardened. "Alright fire-hair, if that's the way you want it, you get to come here every morning two hours before sunrise and make up this drill until you get it *perfectly*. For your impertinence, you get run five laps around the field as soon as it rains!" seeing the rest of the class had stopped to watch, the drillmaster shouted, "Did I tell you to stop? Get to work unless you wanna join Mr. Hwoarang!"
Quickly, the rest of the group continued the drill. Low punch, high kick, high block, mid block, dodge left, low kick right block. To Hwoarang, it was totally pointless. He learned all this before! he had needed to, Baek had said that in order to get the better moves down, he needed to synchronize his attacks, his blocks and counter attacks. "If any of these are done even a milisecond later, it leaves you vulnerable." he had been scolded. Every time the blocks, attacks or counter attacks were late, Baek immediatly punched his weak point.
Again, his heart ached for his past. Again, his foot slipped as he released his low kick.
'Damn, I'm just timing this perfectly aren't I?' he thought angrily. That was how his day had conitnued. Messing up, getting yelled at, shouting back, and getting new punishments. He was even cold to his friends.
"Hey Hwoarang, what's wrong?" Arick asked quizzically. "You're normally only this pissed when you've got a major hangover."
"Shut up!" he snapped. "You wouldn't be in such a good mood either. This place sucks."
Arick was thoroughly confused. "What? You've never complained about the army before. Well, you have, but not, so...straightforward. I don't get it."
Hwoarang's anger quickly turned into hatred. He now glared at not a friend, but an enemy.
"You wanna make something of it, bastard?"
Arick's eyes widened in shock. "Wha-what did you say?!" Hwoarang's anger seemed contagious, and they were soon staring each other down, ready to fight.
Hwoarang smirked. "You heard what I said. C'mon! I can take you!"
Arick's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't be able to if your life depended on it." His voice was dangerously low, his muscles tensed as he readied himself for combat.
As soon as the words spilled out of his mouth, Arick realized what a big mistake he had just made.
Hwoarang charged, and immediatly kicked out low knocking Arick off his feet as he slid under him. Arick stood and faced Hwoarang, waiting for him to make the next move. Hwoarang moved closer and kicked out with first his left and then his right leg in quick succesion, leaving his back vulnerable but neutralizing Arick for the time being. He jumped back up onto his feet and threw furious punches at Hwoarang's face. Hwoarang blocked all but one punch and stepped back to recover. Arick advanced as Hwoarang stood in ready position. When Arick was close enough, Hwoarang ducked down low and kicked his adversary in the shins and then in the torso, sending Arick up into the air. As he fell, Hwoarang kicked him rapidly. Arick landed with a thud, and got up slowly. Hwoarang was already upon him. He grabbed him by his arm, kicked him once in the stomach and then ground his heel into Arick's face. Hwoarang kicked out, and a sickening crack was heard. He let his opponent drop to the ground.
A crowd had gathered around the two fighters, and everyone gasped as Arick's body fell. For a while, no one moved. The only sound that could be heard was Hwoarang's labored breathing. Soon a girl came up to Arick and checked for a pulse. Hwoarang recognized the girl, Emica. She had loved Arick dearly ever since she had first seen him, and now she sat beside him, determining his condition. Soon she stood and faced the onlookers.
"He...he's dead." she said shakily. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed beside Arick crying.
Hwoarang's expression remained passive. His face never showed any sort of emotion, even as Emica sat there, weeping over Arick's lifeless body, screaming "He's dead! He's dead!" into her hands. Hwoarang could not tell how long he stood there. He watched as Emica's friends picked her up and took her to her bunk. When his other three friends yelled at him, even tried to hit him, he just stood there, none of their words going to his mind. He felt as if nothing would connect right. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't show emotion. He just walked obediently as drill sergants took him to see the captain for his punishment. Behind him he heard more drill sergants picking up the Arick's bloody body and carrying it off somewhere.
As drill sergants restrained him, Hwoarang regained his senses. He realized what he had just done. He had fought one of his best friends over a silly arguement. He could have easily told his friend to give up. Instead, he killed him. He remembered the crack of Arick's neck, what it had felt like. He remembered the feeling of fighting when he knew his opponent didn't stand a chance, and the adrenaline rush as he claimed victory of a worthless, bloody battle.
A corner of his mouth curved upward. Most importantly, he had liked it.
A/N:
Well? Well? Was it better? Was it worse? Did you like it? More stuff to come! Please R&R!