A/N:
HAHAHAHAHAHA! I 'M BACK! -_- My computer decided to die on me, and ALL of my files were deleted. There was nothing important on there anyway, but my fanfics were deleted and I had started the next chapter of this and Demon's Eye. So I had to get all of my fics off of the posted ones on FF.Net...Anyway! ^_^ It's nice to know that people like this fic. Everyone's been asking which way Hwaorang will turn, back to the Hwoarang you guys picture him as (a.k.a. sane) or if he'll continue to be a victim of my twisted imagination. ^________^ It's so awesome that you guys are actually asking! I love it! Well, incase you didn't know, my system for updates nowadays is as long as I get a review from someone who wants me to continue. Not five reviews, not three, ONE. Ain't it great? *mutters* Only problem is I have to kick myself in the ass to get on it...
~*3 months later (I'm not kidding. It really WAS 3 months)*~
Wow, I wrote that so long ago. o.O* just goes to show how well I can "kick myself in the ass," doesn't it?
~*~*~*~
Small droplets of rain fell into Hwoarang's eyes as he looked up at the overcast skies. For at least a day he had ran from the military base, following the nearby highway. With no shelter from the ever-increasing strength of the rain, or food for that matter, he decided that the best course of action was to go to the nearest city. It was amazing how easily it was to revert to old habits. Trudging along, his scowl increased as the rain began to fall more insistently, reminding him that he needed to get to town as fast as possible, unless he wanted pneumonia. The clouds reminded him of Baek's old dojo and how he had spent his rainy days then: outside, training. Baek had never been easy on him, even in the stormiest weather.
"Now that I think about it," Hwoarang muttered to himself, "it's a miracle that I never got sick."
As he continued along his desolate path, his shoes slapping against the already wet concrete, memories suddenly began to flood and overwhelm him. Baek. The dojo. The streets. He longed once more for the fights, his want becoming a deep, aching pain that every true warrior felt but none could describe. He longed to see the light in his opponent's eyes, always different for each person, but always blazing with a need similar to his own. He longed for anything and everything that involved combat. But most of all, he longed for the rush of adrenaline that always accompanied it. He longed to feel its blistering heat, engulfing him completely in its sweet embrace. Taking him over, locking him into a state of sweet rapture.
The rain began to fall harder, heavy drops pelting the back of his downcast head. He grimaced as a trickle of water found its way down his hair into his eye. Looking up, he judged the city to be about a mile away. If he ran, he could make it there in under five minutes...
But where would he go?
Realization struck Hwoarang harder than rain ever could. He had no money at all, which ruled out practically all possibilities of shelter. The only immediate solution he could think of was the alleys. Unfortunatly, all of South Korea's city streets were ruled by one gang or another, all of which were extremely territorial, and trusted no one. The only thing they trusted was money. Even he could not stand up to five men with switchblades, and contrary to popular belief, they did not attack one at a time.
It wasn't long before the young Korean's quick thinking saved him once again. "The only thing they trust is money..."
Running on that fact alone, he broke into an all-out sprint to the blurred lights ahead.
~*~*~*~
Upon reaching the city, Hwoarang immediately began a search for an alleyway that would suit his needs best. He trotted along the littered streets, peeking around different corners. It wasn't long before he found the perfect alley. It was about ten feet wide, its brick walls covered in graffiti of all different tags. A dim orange light radiated from an old street lamp at the mouth of the lane. A fire escape for the neighboring building provided decent cover from the still-pouring rain. Squinting to see the alley's end, Hwoarang was able to make out a vague outline of a strange shape. It looked as though it had been bent backwards at the corner, as though the alley were a forgotten page and its corner bent to remind an unknown reader of its existence. He smirked, feeling his skin prickle as he prepared himself for the task ahead. Chocolate eyes bright with excitement, he scanned the soaked pavement for anything that he could throw. He scooped up a small pipe, and chucked it against the wall. It ricocheted, slamming into a pile of dented trash cans. The harsh sound echoed down the alley.
"Hey! Anyone care to greet me?!"
Silence.
Then a muffled mumbling sounded from the back of the lane, but no voice rose to meet his challenge. Cocking his head irritatedly, he ran in and kicked a trach can towards the bent shape. A loud "Hey!" reached the Korean's ears, followed by several cries of indignation. Slowly black silhouettes appeared seemingly out of no where and began swaggering towards Hwoarang. He counted seven gang members in all.
All seven people stopped just at the edge of the circle of light the lamp gave off, their faces remaining in the shadows that they were so familiar with. Heavy rainfall obscured any detail that the light miraculously caught. Tension clung to the atmosphere as neither the gang nor Hwoarang moved, both parties sizing up the other. The redhead's eyes flicked over each dark shape, taking in the bare minimum. Judging by their build, he found that all were predictably men, most likely around his age or older. The heavy silence wore on for what seemed like hours, until a high, scratchy voice cut through it like a knife through warm butter.
"Wha' ya want?"
"Can't figure it out? Your dumber than gangs were when I came here last." came his cocky reply.
Agressive growls rumbled from the dark forms before him, accompanied by the click of switchblades. 'Predictable.' he mused.
"What sort of business do you guys run?" Hwoarang's rambunctious voice was not dampened by the rain. The same rough voice gave him yet another predictable response.
"Back off punk. We're not playn' twen'y questions here."
Hwoarang smirked and ran his fingers through his damp cropped hair, flicking a bit of rain water to the ground. "That's too bad. My gang used to bet on fights. I figured you'd wanna try it out." he raised his chin and stared down at them, eyes blazing with defiance. "Of course, unless you're scared."
More growls and a bit of scuffling ensued as five of the men got into a fighting stance. From the largest figure came a deep voice, muted slightly by the rain, "We ain't scared. Come at us!"
Hwoarang narrowed his eyes a little, his smirk still in place. "I know what you want. And if you plan on getting any money outta me, you'll have to fight me. One on one. No weapons."
"How 'bout I take th' money frum ya right now?!" the man lunged lunged, but a much leaner, shorter silhouette blocked him with an outstretched arm.
"No." a calm, even voice came from the smaller figure. The way the larger man complied obediently like a whipped dog to an abusive master made it obvious that the shorter gang member was the leader. He turned his head to the ex-soldier before him. "What're the earnings?"
"The bet's two hundred bucks. You got it?"
"Yah. We got it." the man stepped into the lamplight. He was a bit shorter than Hwoarang, a bandana holding back dark black hair that fell just above his eyes. He was skinny, his grimy navy T-shirt and and denim jeans fitting him loosely. Hollow green eyes stared out of a thin, pale face. Ratty tennis shoes that were too big were tied to his feet. Despite his overall skinny appearance, when he presented the money, Hwoarang noticed strong wrists and hands. Pocketing the cash, the gang leader assumed a sort of fighting stance, his style impossible to tell from years of picking up different moves off the streets.
"I'm Taku. I'll kick your sorry ass for two hundred."
Hwoarang quickly hopped into his stance, his heart fluttering with excitement. "I'm Hwoarang. I'd like to see you try."
A pause. And then suddenly both men leaped at each other, Taku flying at the redhead in a flurry of kicks and punches. Hwoarang dodged all of them expertly, ducking and executing a powerful low kick to the knee. The scrawny man staggered, but thrust his other leg out to keep him from falling. He blocked an incoming punch to the head, and then a shuto chop to the ribs. What he could not block was the snap kick to his now-unguarded stomach. Taku fell on his back with an "Oof!" Hwoarang leaped on him and pressed his upper arm against his jugular. With his other arm he punched the helpless man in the face repeatedly. Taku kicked, and met Hwoarang's back squarely. When the redhead began to stand, Taku kicked out and slid on his back. He rolled backwards and handsprung to his feet, snapping back into his fighting position.
Hwoarang whistled in approval. "That's a nifty little trick you got there." he commented. "Now let me show you one've mine." before Taku could react, Hwoarang ran at him and stepped onto his chest. Using his momentum, he pushed off and jumped behind his opponent, his other foot kicking out and coming in contact with his jaw. As the black haired man recovered from that surprise, Hwoarang landed behind him and grabbed his arm. He then pulled it down and twisted. Taku automatically followed the motion to avoid the pain, and ended up with his body facing the gray clouds and rain. Hwoarang jumped, and threw one leg over the gang member's shoulder. As the two came crashing to the ground, he snapped his leg down like an axe kick right on Taku's stomach.
Taku heaved out a great gasp of air as the wind was knocked out of him. The sudden lack of oxygen made him dizzy, but as he had been taught, he got back to his feet as quickly as possible. He bindly punched, only to meet another expert block. The second his fist came in contact with Hwoarang's arm, he jumped and twisted, kicking at the left side Hwoarang's head with his left leg. Hwoarang blocked again, but Taku twisted his body to the left, his left leg still at Hwoarang's head. He quickly crossed his right leg over his left and locked his opponent's head between his ankles. As his torso came down, Taku put his hands out and pulled his legs back with all of his strength. Hwoarang came crashing down to the wet pavement on his head. Taku grinned proudly; this move has always snapped his opponent's necks. His gang cheered, and he turned to see the results.
To his shock and horror, the persistent Korean was back on his feet, gesturing him to come back at him with his hand. Without waiting, Hwoarang lunged, jumped, and kicked hard with his left leg, sending Taku flying into the air. Before either man came back to the ground, Hwoarang spun and kicked with his right, and then slammed Taku to the concrete with a hard left axe kick. Hwoarang landed gracefully and jumped back a little, waiting for Taku to get up. The black haired man got to one knee and winced in pain. He coughed up blood, scarlet and glistening until the icy rainwater diluted it. He staggered to his feet and was barely able to get up.
Hwoarang ran up to him and switched his stance quickly. Then, before Taku had a chance to fall, Hwoarang grabbed him with his left hand and twisted so his back was to him. Then he pulled Taku's arm forward and kicked back, flipping foreward as his leg brought the gang leader over head and to the ground. Taku bounced slightly and skidded into an alley wall with a loud whump! After that, he didn't get up.
The redhead cracked his neck and knuckles as he causually sauntered to the motionless body. He checked Taku's pulse: extremely faint but still there. His breathing was labored shallow, and Hwoarang discovered a broken arm and five broken ribs. He guessed that the black haired man had internal bleeding as well. He probably wouldn't live.
Despite the results of the quick analysis, Hwoarang fished into the gang leader's baggy pockets and grabbed the wad of money. When he verified that the cash wasn't counterfeit and that it added up to two hundred dollars, he gave the rest of the gang members a mock salute with two fingers and slipped his hands into his pockets. The rest of the men were too shocked to run and ollow the fatigue-adorned redhead; instead, they followed him with wide eyes as he disappeared into the silver curtain of rain.
~*~*~*~
A/N:
WAAAIIII!!!!! I dunno how long that is, and I dunno if it was worth the wait (I'm sorry if it wasn't) but I DO know that I'm very, VERY proud of the fight scene. ^_^ Incase I didn't explain it well enough, or you couldn't figure it out, the throws that Hwoarang did were, in this order from the second paragraph down, human cannonball, slaughterhouse, hunting hawk, and jacknife (only available in Tekken 4). The nifty sliding thing Taku did in the first paragraph was from The Matrix Reloaded (It's hard to come up with these things on my own, you know), and the throw he did in the third paragraph is a wrestling move...I dunno if it has a name or not, but I adore that throw. ^_^ So cool! Well, as soon as I get a good review, I'll try to get the next chapter out. Summer's coming and school's giving less and less homework, so let's hope that I get the next chap. out soon. ^_^
Thank you so much for staying with me (if anyone did)! I appreciate it more than you know!
~Mai
HAHAHAHAHAHA! I 'M BACK! -_- My computer decided to die on me, and ALL of my files were deleted. There was nothing important on there anyway, but my fanfics were deleted and I had started the next chapter of this and Demon's Eye. So I had to get all of my fics off of the posted ones on FF.Net...Anyway! ^_^ It's nice to know that people like this fic. Everyone's been asking which way Hwaorang will turn, back to the Hwoarang you guys picture him as (a.k.a. sane) or if he'll continue to be a victim of my twisted imagination. ^________^ It's so awesome that you guys are actually asking! I love it! Well, incase you didn't know, my system for updates nowadays is as long as I get a review from someone who wants me to continue. Not five reviews, not three, ONE. Ain't it great? *mutters* Only problem is I have to kick myself in the ass to get on it...
~*3 months later (I'm not kidding. It really WAS 3 months)*~
Wow, I wrote that so long ago. o.O* just goes to show how well I can "kick myself in the ass," doesn't it?
~*~*~*~
Small droplets of rain fell into Hwoarang's eyes as he looked up at the overcast skies. For at least a day he had ran from the military base, following the nearby highway. With no shelter from the ever-increasing strength of the rain, or food for that matter, he decided that the best course of action was to go to the nearest city. It was amazing how easily it was to revert to old habits. Trudging along, his scowl increased as the rain began to fall more insistently, reminding him that he needed to get to town as fast as possible, unless he wanted pneumonia. The clouds reminded him of Baek's old dojo and how he had spent his rainy days then: outside, training. Baek had never been easy on him, even in the stormiest weather.
"Now that I think about it," Hwoarang muttered to himself, "it's a miracle that I never got sick."
As he continued along his desolate path, his shoes slapping against the already wet concrete, memories suddenly began to flood and overwhelm him. Baek. The dojo. The streets. He longed once more for the fights, his want becoming a deep, aching pain that every true warrior felt but none could describe. He longed to see the light in his opponent's eyes, always different for each person, but always blazing with a need similar to his own. He longed for anything and everything that involved combat. But most of all, he longed for the rush of adrenaline that always accompanied it. He longed to feel its blistering heat, engulfing him completely in its sweet embrace. Taking him over, locking him into a state of sweet rapture.
The rain began to fall harder, heavy drops pelting the back of his downcast head. He grimaced as a trickle of water found its way down his hair into his eye. Looking up, he judged the city to be about a mile away. If he ran, he could make it there in under five minutes...
But where would he go?
Realization struck Hwoarang harder than rain ever could. He had no money at all, which ruled out practically all possibilities of shelter. The only immediate solution he could think of was the alleys. Unfortunatly, all of South Korea's city streets were ruled by one gang or another, all of which were extremely territorial, and trusted no one. The only thing they trusted was money. Even he could not stand up to five men with switchblades, and contrary to popular belief, they did not attack one at a time.
It wasn't long before the young Korean's quick thinking saved him once again. "The only thing they trust is money..."
Running on that fact alone, he broke into an all-out sprint to the blurred lights ahead.
~*~*~*~
Upon reaching the city, Hwoarang immediately began a search for an alleyway that would suit his needs best. He trotted along the littered streets, peeking around different corners. It wasn't long before he found the perfect alley. It was about ten feet wide, its brick walls covered in graffiti of all different tags. A dim orange light radiated from an old street lamp at the mouth of the lane. A fire escape for the neighboring building provided decent cover from the still-pouring rain. Squinting to see the alley's end, Hwoarang was able to make out a vague outline of a strange shape. It looked as though it had been bent backwards at the corner, as though the alley were a forgotten page and its corner bent to remind an unknown reader of its existence. He smirked, feeling his skin prickle as he prepared himself for the task ahead. Chocolate eyes bright with excitement, he scanned the soaked pavement for anything that he could throw. He scooped up a small pipe, and chucked it against the wall. It ricocheted, slamming into a pile of dented trash cans. The harsh sound echoed down the alley.
"Hey! Anyone care to greet me?!"
Silence.
Then a muffled mumbling sounded from the back of the lane, but no voice rose to meet his challenge. Cocking his head irritatedly, he ran in and kicked a trach can towards the bent shape. A loud "Hey!" reached the Korean's ears, followed by several cries of indignation. Slowly black silhouettes appeared seemingly out of no where and began swaggering towards Hwoarang. He counted seven gang members in all.
All seven people stopped just at the edge of the circle of light the lamp gave off, their faces remaining in the shadows that they were so familiar with. Heavy rainfall obscured any detail that the light miraculously caught. Tension clung to the atmosphere as neither the gang nor Hwoarang moved, both parties sizing up the other. The redhead's eyes flicked over each dark shape, taking in the bare minimum. Judging by their build, he found that all were predictably men, most likely around his age or older. The heavy silence wore on for what seemed like hours, until a high, scratchy voice cut through it like a knife through warm butter.
"Wha' ya want?"
"Can't figure it out? Your dumber than gangs were when I came here last." came his cocky reply.
Agressive growls rumbled from the dark forms before him, accompanied by the click of switchblades. 'Predictable.' he mused.
"What sort of business do you guys run?" Hwoarang's rambunctious voice was not dampened by the rain. The same rough voice gave him yet another predictable response.
"Back off punk. We're not playn' twen'y questions here."
Hwoarang smirked and ran his fingers through his damp cropped hair, flicking a bit of rain water to the ground. "That's too bad. My gang used to bet on fights. I figured you'd wanna try it out." he raised his chin and stared down at them, eyes blazing with defiance. "Of course, unless you're scared."
More growls and a bit of scuffling ensued as five of the men got into a fighting stance. From the largest figure came a deep voice, muted slightly by the rain, "We ain't scared. Come at us!"
Hwoarang narrowed his eyes a little, his smirk still in place. "I know what you want. And if you plan on getting any money outta me, you'll have to fight me. One on one. No weapons."
"How 'bout I take th' money frum ya right now?!" the man lunged lunged, but a much leaner, shorter silhouette blocked him with an outstretched arm.
"No." a calm, even voice came from the smaller figure. The way the larger man complied obediently like a whipped dog to an abusive master made it obvious that the shorter gang member was the leader. He turned his head to the ex-soldier before him. "What're the earnings?"
"The bet's two hundred bucks. You got it?"
"Yah. We got it." the man stepped into the lamplight. He was a bit shorter than Hwoarang, a bandana holding back dark black hair that fell just above his eyes. He was skinny, his grimy navy T-shirt and and denim jeans fitting him loosely. Hollow green eyes stared out of a thin, pale face. Ratty tennis shoes that were too big were tied to his feet. Despite his overall skinny appearance, when he presented the money, Hwoarang noticed strong wrists and hands. Pocketing the cash, the gang leader assumed a sort of fighting stance, his style impossible to tell from years of picking up different moves off the streets.
"I'm Taku. I'll kick your sorry ass for two hundred."
Hwoarang quickly hopped into his stance, his heart fluttering with excitement. "I'm Hwoarang. I'd like to see you try."
A pause. And then suddenly both men leaped at each other, Taku flying at the redhead in a flurry of kicks and punches. Hwoarang dodged all of them expertly, ducking and executing a powerful low kick to the knee. The scrawny man staggered, but thrust his other leg out to keep him from falling. He blocked an incoming punch to the head, and then a shuto chop to the ribs. What he could not block was the snap kick to his now-unguarded stomach. Taku fell on his back with an "Oof!" Hwoarang leaped on him and pressed his upper arm against his jugular. With his other arm he punched the helpless man in the face repeatedly. Taku kicked, and met Hwoarang's back squarely. When the redhead began to stand, Taku kicked out and slid on his back. He rolled backwards and handsprung to his feet, snapping back into his fighting position.
Hwoarang whistled in approval. "That's a nifty little trick you got there." he commented. "Now let me show you one've mine." before Taku could react, Hwoarang ran at him and stepped onto his chest. Using his momentum, he pushed off and jumped behind his opponent, his other foot kicking out and coming in contact with his jaw. As the black haired man recovered from that surprise, Hwoarang landed behind him and grabbed his arm. He then pulled it down and twisted. Taku automatically followed the motion to avoid the pain, and ended up with his body facing the gray clouds and rain. Hwoarang jumped, and threw one leg over the gang member's shoulder. As the two came crashing to the ground, he snapped his leg down like an axe kick right on Taku's stomach.
Taku heaved out a great gasp of air as the wind was knocked out of him. The sudden lack of oxygen made him dizzy, but as he had been taught, he got back to his feet as quickly as possible. He bindly punched, only to meet another expert block. The second his fist came in contact with Hwoarang's arm, he jumped and twisted, kicking at the left side Hwoarang's head with his left leg. Hwoarang blocked again, but Taku twisted his body to the left, his left leg still at Hwoarang's head. He quickly crossed his right leg over his left and locked his opponent's head between his ankles. As his torso came down, Taku put his hands out and pulled his legs back with all of his strength. Hwoarang came crashing down to the wet pavement on his head. Taku grinned proudly; this move has always snapped his opponent's necks. His gang cheered, and he turned to see the results.
To his shock and horror, the persistent Korean was back on his feet, gesturing him to come back at him with his hand. Without waiting, Hwoarang lunged, jumped, and kicked hard with his left leg, sending Taku flying into the air. Before either man came back to the ground, Hwoarang spun and kicked with his right, and then slammed Taku to the concrete with a hard left axe kick. Hwoarang landed gracefully and jumped back a little, waiting for Taku to get up. The black haired man got to one knee and winced in pain. He coughed up blood, scarlet and glistening until the icy rainwater diluted it. He staggered to his feet and was barely able to get up.
Hwoarang ran up to him and switched his stance quickly. Then, before Taku had a chance to fall, Hwoarang grabbed him with his left hand and twisted so his back was to him. Then he pulled Taku's arm forward and kicked back, flipping foreward as his leg brought the gang leader over head and to the ground. Taku bounced slightly and skidded into an alley wall with a loud whump! After that, he didn't get up.
The redhead cracked his neck and knuckles as he causually sauntered to the motionless body. He checked Taku's pulse: extremely faint but still there. His breathing was labored shallow, and Hwoarang discovered a broken arm and five broken ribs. He guessed that the black haired man had internal bleeding as well. He probably wouldn't live.
Despite the results of the quick analysis, Hwoarang fished into the gang leader's baggy pockets and grabbed the wad of money. When he verified that the cash wasn't counterfeit and that it added up to two hundred dollars, he gave the rest of the gang members a mock salute with two fingers and slipped his hands into his pockets. The rest of the men were too shocked to run and ollow the fatigue-adorned redhead; instead, they followed him with wide eyes as he disappeared into the silver curtain of rain.
~*~*~*~
A/N:
WAAAIIII!!!!! I dunno how long that is, and I dunno if it was worth the wait (I'm sorry if it wasn't) but I DO know that I'm very, VERY proud of the fight scene. ^_^ Incase I didn't explain it well enough, or you couldn't figure it out, the throws that Hwoarang did were, in this order from the second paragraph down, human cannonball, slaughterhouse, hunting hawk, and jacknife (only available in Tekken 4). The nifty sliding thing Taku did in the first paragraph was from The Matrix Reloaded (It's hard to come up with these things on my own, you know), and the throw he did in the third paragraph is a wrestling move...I dunno if it has a name or not, but I adore that throw. ^_^ So cool! Well, as soon as I get a good review, I'll try to get the next chapter out. Summer's coming and school's giving less and less homework, so let's hope that I get the next chap. out soon. ^_^
Thank you so much for staying with me (if anyone did)! I appreciate it more than you know!
~Mai