A/N:
I can't believe I'm updating this. I had no idea people still read this. But I got nice reviews, and I intend on following through with it! TO THE CHALLENGE!
~*~*~*~
Hwoarang groggily opened his eyes to the cold, concrete ceiling that stared down at him. He squinted as he recalled where he was and why he was there. He was in the small jail that his military base kept normally for soldiers who had minor crimes. Most soldiers who stayed there were released within a few weeks, six months at the most. But not Hwoarang. So brutal a murder had not been committed in the Korean military for quite some time, and his sentence was to be as quick and harsh as his trial was.
Death.
The firing squad to be ready by dawn on the eighteenth of November, only three days away. But the skilled martial artist wasn't afraid. He had laughed in the face of death many times before, and wouldn't be surprised if he cheated it one more time.
But something small inside him was constantly nagging at him, reminding him how hopeless the situation was. He was at the heart of a military base, patrol constantly keeping intruders away from the base, and Hwoarang was sure that they could keep people in just as easily. He frowned as he argued with himself.
I've done this in prison before, I can do it again.
But prison isn't a military base. Security officers weren't trained there for the sole purpose of protecting the country. These people always have at least one gun with them.
They can forget their guns. My weapon will always be with me as long as I use it to keep it sharp. This'll be the perfect oppotunity to be sure if my skills are as good as they always were.
There's always an officer walking around the base. They'll sound the alarm faster than you can run.
Then I'll kill them before they sound the alarm.
How many do you think you'll have to take down?
At his own question, Hwoarang grinned. All of them.
If he suceeded in destroying the entire base, he knew that the rest of the Korean military would be after him. He remembered the days when the police were chasing him. Everyday was adrenaline-packed, and he had always loved the rush of his pursuit. Eventually the police gave up, and rewards for his capture had long since been forgotten. All that ended a few weeks before The King of Iron Fist Tournament 3, and ever since things had been boring despite all of his missions. Hwoarang smirked as he leaned against the wall reminiscing of his past. Those days would be back, and the rush would return.
Through half-closed eyes, Hwoarang murmured, "Three days."
~*~*~*~
Wednesday and Thursday passed faster than Hwoarang ever imagined possible. Friday, the scheduled day of his death, began with a blood red rising sun. The young man walked with his usual swagger, handcuffed and sandwiched between two huge officers. One looked down and saw the cocky smile on the red head's face. He elbowed Hwoarang in the ribs and asked gruffly, "Whot're you so happy 'bout? T'day's th' day you die."
Hwoarang looked up at the large man and continued to smile. "On the contrary. You're the one who gets die. But don't worry. I'll send others with you. The least I can do is send your commanding officer to hell along with you."
The muscular soldier shook his head, slightly disgruntled at Hwoarang's attitude. "You crazy, you know dat?"
"I'll choose to ignore that."
For the rest of the five minute walk to the point where the firing squad was, an akward silence left a gap between the two men. Silently, Hwoarang wondered if his plan would even work. And if it did, what then?
'Don't think about those things just yet.' he scolded himself gently as the captain came into sight.
The captain was fine looking man, around his late thirties. His long raven hair was tied back into a ponytail, one lock, slightly shorter than the rest, hung near his left eye and tickled his chin. Deep set brown eyes carefully surveyed the young man before him.
"Pity." was the only word that came out of the captain's lips after a long observation of the young Korean soldier. Turning to the burly men who held Hwoarang, the captain waved them off. Both officers walked away quickly, hoping to get far away from both the captain and the hardened soldier due for the firing squad. Again, the captain turned to Hwoarang.
"I say pity because you were probably once a very good soldier. Muscular, swift, at one point, you would stop at nothing to complete your missions, am I not correct?"
Snorting, Hwoarang continued to smirk at the captain.
"Hm. Well, now I see that somehow you've ended up here, with the firing squad ready before your very eyes. How does it feel?"
Even if the captain had given him time to answer, Hwoarang was sure that it wouldn't have been welcomed. Circling like a shark, the captain continued.
"You look like the type who had a hard childhood. You understood the true feeling of pain, and walked hundreds of paths bearing it all alone. But you found a way to make that pain stop, didn't you? You decided to fight. And not just fight on the street, but fighting in tournaments as well. Yes, I saw you in all of The King of Iron Fist Tournaments you entered, young Hwoarang, and I must say I'm impressed. Isn't it a sad fate that you were called to the army? Otherwise, you might still be on the streets, with with your gang and hustling money from all those stupid enough to challenge you. You might even have entered other King of Iron Fist Tournaments if any had been called.
That's too bad, Hwoarang, because fate has turned on you, and drops you on my doorstep. Now you face penalty of death. Do you like it? Does your heart beat in the same way it did as you stepped into the ring to face your opponents?"
"Uh?" Hwoarang shook himself awake at looked back at the black haired man. "Sorry I missed that. Mind running it by me again?"
Smiling icily, the captain looked down at Hwoarang. "Let me ask you this, are you familiar with the Christian idea that Jesus Christ was killed on a Friday? Don't you feel lucky that you will be as well? Perhaps it will ease your passing down to hell."
Hwoarang matched the taller man's stare and said simply, "I'd say the same to you, but I'm hoping that your 'passing' will be as painful as they come."
The captain didn't even have time to blink before Hwoarang was out of his handcuffs and had his superior pinned to the ground. Quickly pulling out the helpless man's knife, he surveyed it and said casually, "My, my, aren't butterly knives illegal?" and slit his throat.
The young Korean had timed the attack perfectly. The first man on the firing team had just begun to walk out of the weapons shed when the murder of his captain had occured. The last thing he saw was the fire that crackled in Hwoarang's eyes. Quickly Hwoarang hid right next to the door and stabbed the next person. Jumping into the shed with a cry, he was able to kill everyone of them, but was unable to stop the inevitable alarm.
Swaggering casually out of the weapon shed, the redhead coolly ran a finger down the still wet blood that stained his newly acquired butterfly knife. He grinned wolfishly and ran head-on at the soldiers who had answered the alarm, adrenaline pumping through his veins and the blaze of a berserker shining in his eyes.
~*~*~*~
A/N:
Well, that's what I've managed to come up with through school, karate, daily chores, homework, etc. If people are REALLY upset with the fact that I didn't write out Hwoarang's fight with the entire military base, I'm sorry, but it would only get repetitive, boring, and not to mention extremely difficult. Let me know if you disliked that, and I'll see what I can do. Oh yeah, and for those of you who know a lot about military stuff, ranks, etc. bear with me please because I'm pretty sure that I don't know a whole lot about it. (But correction would be helpful! ^_^) Ta ta!
~Mai
P.S. Just incase you didn't know, a butterly knife is like a switchblade (I'm at least 90% sure anyway) but has two blades; one on each end. T_T Butterly swords are the coolest! Not sure if they're illegal in Korea though...hadn't thought about it till now...
I can't believe I'm updating this. I had no idea people still read this. But I got nice reviews, and I intend on following through with it! TO THE CHALLENGE!
~*~*~*~
Hwoarang groggily opened his eyes to the cold, concrete ceiling that stared down at him. He squinted as he recalled where he was and why he was there. He was in the small jail that his military base kept normally for soldiers who had minor crimes. Most soldiers who stayed there were released within a few weeks, six months at the most. But not Hwoarang. So brutal a murder had not been committed in the Korean military for quite some time, and his sentence was to be as quick and harsh as his trial was.
Death.
The firing squad to be ready by dawn on the eighteenth of November, only three days away. But the skilled martial artist wasn't afraid. He had laughed in the face of death many times before, and wouldn't be surprised if he cheated it one more time.
But something small inside him was constantly nagging at him, reminding him how hopeless the situation was. He was at the heart of a military base, patrol constantly keeping intruders away from the base, and Hwoarang was sure that they could keep people in just as easily. He frowned as he argued with himself.
I've done this in prison before, I can do it again.
But prison isn't a military base. Security officers weren't trained there for the sole purpose of protecting the country. These people always have at least one gun with them.
They can forget their guns. My weapon will always be with me as long as I use it to keep it sharp. This'll be the perfect oppotunity to be sure if my skills are as good as they always were.
There's always an officer walking around the base. They'll sound the alarm faster than you can run.
Then I'll kill them before they sound the alarm.
How many do you think you'll have to take down?
At his own question, Hwoarang grinned. All of them.
If he suceeded in destroying the entire base, he knew that the rest of the Korean military would be after him. He remembered the days when the police were chasing him. Everyday was adrenaline-packed, and he had always loved the rush of his pursuit. Eventually the police gave up, and rewards for his capture had long since been forgotten. All that ended a few weeks before The King of Iron Fist Tournament 3, and ever since things had been boring despite all of his missions. Hwoarang smirked as he leaned against the wall reminiscing of his past. Those days would be back, and the rush would return.
Through half-closed eyes, Hwoarang murmured, "Three days."
~*~*~*~
Wednesday and Thursday passed faster than Hwoarang ever imagined possible. Friday, the scheduled day of his death, began with a blood red rising sun. The young man walked with his usual swagger, handcuffed and sandwiched between two huge officers. One looked down and saw the cocky smile on the red head's face. He elbowed Hwoarang in the ribs and asked gruffly, "Whot're you so happy 'bout? T'day's th' day you die."
Hwoarang looked up at the large man and continued to smile. "On the contrary. You're the one who gets die. But don't worry. I'll send others with you. The least I can do is send your commanding officer to hell along with you."
The muscular soldier shook his head, slightly disgruntled at Hwoarang's attitude. "You crazy, you know dat?"
"I'll choose to ignore that."
For the rest of the five minute walk to the point where the firing squad was, an akward silence left a gap between the two men. Silently, Hwoarang wondered if his plan would even work. And if it did, what then?
'Don't think about those things just yet.' he scolded himself gently as the captain came into sight.
The captain was fine looking man, around his late thirties. His long raven hair was tied back into a ponytail, one lock, slightly shorter than the rest, hung near his left eye and tickled his chin. Deep set brown eyes carefully surveyed the young man before him.
"Pity." was the only word that came out of the captain's lips after a long observation of the young Korean soldier. Turning to the burly men who held Hwoarang, the captain waved them off. Both officers walked away quickly, hoping to get far away from both the captain and the hardened soldier due for the firing squad. Again, the captain turned to Hwoarang.
"I say pity because you were probably once a very good soldier. Muscular, swift, at one point, you would stop at nothing to complete your missions, am I not correct?"
Snorting, Hwoarang continued to smirk at the captain.
"Hm. Well, now I see that somehow you've ended up here, with the firing squad ready before your very eyes. How does it feel?"
Even if the captain had given him time to answer, Hwoarang was sure that it wouldn't have been welcomed. Circling like a shark, the captain continued.
"You look like the type who had a hard childhood. You understood the true feeling of pain, and walked hundreds of paths bearing it all alone. But you found a way to make that pain stop, didn't you? You decided to fight. And not just fight on the street, but fighting in tournaments as well. Yes, I saw you in all of The King of Iron Fist Tournaments you entered, young Hwoarang, and I must say I'm impressed. Isn't it a sad fate that you were called to the army? Otherwise, you might still be on the streets, with with your gang and hustling money from all those stupid enough to challenge you. You might even have entered other King of Iron Fist Tournaments if any had been called.
That's too bad, Hwoarang, because fate has turned on you, and drops you on my doorstep. Now you face penalty of death. Do you like it? Does your heart beat in the same way it did as you stepped into the ring to face your opponents?"
"Uh?" Hwoarang shook himself awake at looked back at the black haired man. "Sorry I missed that. Mind running it by me again?"
Smiling icily, the captain looked down at Hwoarang. "Let me ask you this, are you familiar with the Christian idea that Jesus Christ was killed on a Friday? Don't you feel lucky that you will be as well? Perhaps it will ease your passing down to hell."
Hwoarang matched the taller man's stare and said simply, "I'd say the same to you, but I'm hoping that your 'passing' will be as painful as they come."
The captain didn't even have time to blink before Hwoarang was out of his handcuffs and had his superior pinned to the ground. Quickly pulling out the helpless man's knife, he surveyed it and said casually, "My, my, aren't butterly knives illegal?" and slit his throat.
The young Korean had timed the attack perfectly. The first man on the firing team had just begun to walk out of the weapons shed when the murder of his captain had occured. The last thing he saw was the fire that crackled in Hwoarang's eyes. Quickly Hwoarang hid right next to the door and stabbed the next person. Jumping into the shed with a cry, he was able to kill everyone of them, but was unable to stop the inevitable alarm.
Swaggering casually out of the weapon shed, the redhead coolly ran a finger down the still wet blood that stained his newly acquired butterfly knife. He grinned wolfishly and ran head-on at the soldiers who had answered the alarm, adrenaline pumping through his veins and the blaze of a berserker shining in his eyes.
~*~*~*~
A/N:
Well, that's what I've managed to come up with through school, karate, daily chores, homework, etc. If people are REALLY upset with the fact that I didn't write out Hwoarang's fight with the entire military base, I'm sorry, but it would only get repetitive, boring, and not to mention extremely difficult. Let me know if you disliked that, and I'll see what I can do. Oh yeah, and for those of you who know a lot about military stuff, ranks, etc. bear with me please because I'm pretty sure that I don't know a whole lot about it. (But correction would be helpful! ^_^) Ta ta!
~Mai
P.S. Just incase you didn't know, a butterly knife is like a switchblade (I'm at least 90% sure anyway) but has two blades; one on each end. T_T Butterly swords are the coolest! Not sure if they're illegal in Korea though...hadn't thought about it till now...