Unpredictable Impulses, Chapter 8
Based on T3, Hwoarang's ending: He's tired of fighting. He's tired of being alone. He's even tired of college! Jin picks up Hwoarang's tab in a bar, with some interesting results. Yaoi: m/m relationship (Jin X Hwoarang). R for language misuse, implied illegal action, & sexual activities.
Author's Note: I've never played any other Tekken game but T3, so I'm going to pretend that none of the others exist anymore. And Hwoarang did not join any stupid army! *snorts at the absurdity of the idea* That would really ruin my story. Maybe he became a citizen of the country he's going to college in... Yes... I think I like that idea... but I'm still referring to him as Korean, since that is his birth nationality.
Author's Note 2: I don't own Tekken or its characters, so don't sue me, but I can damn well ignore the parts of both that I don't like since I'm not even writing this for profit! *crosses eyes and sticks tongue out*
---------------------------------
Author's Note 3: I hate tests. I hate computer viruses. But most of all, I hate writer's block... For those of you who expected something a little more... interesting... for this chapter, my apologies- but I lost the old chapter I had almost completed to a virus. This one isn't nearly as long (old one was almost seven pages!!! GRRRR), nor as detailed, I will probably upload a different version of it at some point. But for now... just bear with me and, if you have any 'picks to bone' with me, drop me an email or R&R. ^ . ^
Author's Note 4: I usually respond to reviews in the same place, but I believe last time I forgot to thank you guys for all the positive energy. It is what made me start writing the 8th chapter again...
---------------------------------
"But war can have its uses," Hwoarang said thoughtfully as he stepped off a curb into the crosswalk. "It keeps the ignorant violent people busy, so the rest of us can live in relative peace."
Jin shook his head as they strolled along, unable to agree with the redhead's reasoning. "We don't need war, no matter how useful it seems to be in the current world. Those who are, as you put it, 'ignorant violent people' should be educated such that their ignorance goes *poof* and their energy becomes focused on other things. Isn't that why you came to America to study?" he asked, perhaps a little sharply.
Hwoarang ducked his head, trying to hide the immediate anger he couldn't quite subdue. "I don't know why," he said softly. "I was never senseless, not really. I mean... my senses were screwed up most of the time in my youth, and sure I was a bit more aggressive than I had reason to be, but-"
"You had that well in control by the time I saw you first, or you would have been more likely to kick my butt," Jin teased. He was relieved to see a faint smirk on his former rival's face. "But then, you accepted an invitation to better yourself when your mentor took you in. I honestly don't know how many people would do the same, when it means learning not only a method of self-defense, but also self-discipline and self-respect."
"All of which I am still working on," Hwoarang pointed out, grin widening.
"As am I," Jin shrugged good-naturedly. "Anyone who tells you they have mastered those concepts beyond intellectually, is full of bullshi-" He stopped walking abruptly, keen ears having heard the sound of running feet coming their direction. He motioned for Hwoarang to move away from the circle of light created by the nearest streetlamp.
"What-" the Korean started to whisper as he pressed his back against the brick wall of a pet shop, low whimperings and such occasionally heard from within.
"Shhh," Jin breathed. His dark amber eyes gleamed reflection of the light as he turned his head this way and that. He pointed silently and nodded once. "Watch my back," he mouthed.
Hwoarang nodded, swallowing nerves as tension began trickling through him. The small dark figure didn't become any clearer as it came closer, since it dodged nimbly around the light cast by lamps, but it became more audible. Whoever- whatever- it was, it was breathing heavily. It stumbled as it started to pass them, and Jin leaped forward to grab it roughly by the back of its black garments. It let out a low moan as he pulled it into the light. "It wasn't me!" it said- the voice was unmistakeably male, although high pitched with fright. He didn't even try to struggle.
Hwoarang stayed put, wondering what the hell his host was doing. Whoever this was, if he was running so intently that he didn't notice two possible thugs on the sidewalk, he shouldn't be bothered. It was dangerous to be moving around at night in the middle of the city, especially alone.
Jin put his arm around the diminuitive man's neck and pulled up the left sleeve of his hoodie. There on the upper arm, as expected, was a weird tattoo, much resembling a shuriken. *Gang member now,* Jin thought with an internal sigh. "Dath," he cursed aloud. The guy jerked like he'd been punched in the stomach. "Why ya runnin'?" he asked, and Hwoarang gaped. *Where'd the accent come from?*
"I don't fight, and I didn't want to die. Please let me go! I didn't do it!"
"Do what?" Jin growled, tightening his hold slightly. His eyebrows drew together. "Tell me wha'cha know, Math, or I swear I'll tell yer mum."
"Dirty Laundry," the man gasped. "Narked and planted-"
Jin was silent for a long moment, memorizing the tatoo before thrusting the man away with a harsh laugh. "If ya wanna run, den go. I b'lieve ya for what 's worth."
"Not much," the gang member paused to say, "unless you can do something about it!" Without saying anything further he whirled and dashed off in much the same fashion in which he had approached them.
Jin turned toward Hwoarang before he could ask. "Because street rats know almost everything, and because I know that one. You in shape?" Without waiting for a response he took off as well, in the direction the near-midget had come from. The Korean followed with some misgivings, swearing to himself he'd get the story out of Jin one way or another. The spike-haired man had a little trouble with his boots, but other than that knew himself to be in top form. His breath came easily enough for him to speak in a near-conversational tone, if a bit jerky. "I will explain later, please just trust me for now. I might need your help. A lot of my public persona's allies are at that concert." He was quiet for a moment as they veered a sharp right into a small alleyway lined with doors, some barred by boards or padlocked. "The door at the very end, down in the basement... that's where we're headed. You okay?" he asked as he slowed down to a more reasonable walk.
"Fine," Hwoarang lied, his lungs burning with the effort of speaking normally. *No, oh shit, that's a-* He bent over double quite suddenly and started hacking.
"Hwoarang??" Concerned, the Japanese fighter turned to see what was wrong.
With one final explosive cough, a small insect hurtled out of Hwoarang's mouth and bounced off the pavement. "Much better now," the redhead said hoarsely, then scowled. "Why are you laughing?" he demanded.
Jin wheezed. "N-nothing." He composed himself hurriedly, straightening his clothes, and glanced at the open end of the alley. "I'm just hoping we weren't followed." He led the way to the end of the alley, where a narrow set of stairs dropped down below street level into darkness. "One thing," he said apologetically, "the stairs are rigged to lock the door and bar it from the inside if anyone steps on them."
"So we'll have to jump down?" Hwoarang guessed, nostrils still flaring with the force of his breathing.
"Not quite that bad... or worse, maybe. We'll have to walk down on the guardrail. There's only one."
The Korean squared his shoulders and nodded, trying to act convincingly. "No problem. You can go first though."
"So I intended." Jin let loose a small breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He grabbed the guard rail at its even point with both hands and pulled himself up onto it, gave himself a moment to balance, and stood up completely. His eyes were already adjusted to the darkness, and he hoped Hwoarang's would do the same once he started *his* descent. For Jin, who had plenty of practice on similar rails all over the city, it was quite easy to scramble down at a half-run, feet landing precisely with each step (in spite of the ungainly footgear) until the end- at which point the rail had no level place. He hopped off, landed with a light thud, and called softly up to what he was now thinking of as his "backup": "I'm down."
*Why do I let myself get into these situations...* Hwoarang exhaled and clambered up on the rail as Jin had done. He put his right hand in front of himself, fingertips just brushing the wall, and held the other out behind him in the same fashion, his torso twisted to stay as close as possible. The first step was the worst- he could just barely see the slope of the rail, and a vague outline at the bottom of it that had to be Jin. His foot slipped once (toward the wall luckily, although he corrected it in time to recapture his balance), but after that it wasn't bad. Then as he came to what he thought was the end of the rail, he put his foot out expecting to find something solid. There was only air. His leg made some flopping motions as he tried to lean back onto his left foot, but it was too late. "Waaak!" he half-yelled as he fell forward.
Instead of hard concrete and bruises, he was caught by a rather smug Japanese. "First time I came down one of these, I didn't have anyone to catch me," he confided, holding on to Hwoarang for longer than could be considered necessary before putting him down. *He seems to weigh next to nothing. Not like before, during our matches.* There was no time to ponder, though.
"Thanks," the redhead mumbled.
He seemed embarassed, but Jin didn't mind. He smiled in the darkness and went to open the door. "I don't know what to expect- Math said it was 'narked and planted' but that doesn't mean anything worse has happened. If we can warn them to evacuate-" He shook his head and turned the knob. "I'd hate to have the only real mode of- err, public entertainment left in this damned city come to an end." They walked into a hallway lit by a row of candles on the floor, Hwoarang following closely; he figured that this was Jin's territory, and it felt safer being behind his casual confidence. He didn't want to think about that too much.
The hallway opened into a mostly dark, humming atmosphere full of incense smoke, ghostly forms moving through it, and blacklit colors everywhere. The upraised platform in the middle of the room had some band equipment on it, but there was no sound coming over the speakers and nobody near the instruments. Jin peered around, scanning for familiar faces, and let out a small laugh. "Who would have ever imagined," he whispered just loud enough for Hwoarang to hear, "I see my favorite liquor store clerk is here. And there's Jask Manin, he owns Cafe Sans Coeur Nuit, just in case you didn't know. And Will O'Muir, best light show coordinator I've ever seen-"
"What are we going to do then?" the Korean asked, a little nervously. "Looks like the band is taking a break."
"Let's go to the bar and find out. The vocalist for the band also happens to be the guy who set all this stuff up tonight, he's funding everything except the food and drinks, so if anything is wrong he'll know." Jin set off through the smoke, leaving his guest no choice but to follow. They recieved a couple catcalls on the way across the room, but except for making the Japanese fighter smirk in satisfaction and Hwoarang's face go hot at the attention, there were no ill effects. This side of the room was set up in an interesting way: bar and stools went along most of the wall on one side, the other two walls were set up with carnival mirrors and faceted mirrors. The corners of the room on this side were strung with shiny things and glowing shapes and beads, and of course speakers strategically located absolutely everywhere. Jin didn't stop though, just walked straight up to the bar and leaned across the counter for attention.
The server grinned toothily, showing off brilliant neon yellow braces, and set the mug he'd been polishing down on the back counter. "What can I get ya?"
"Get me Garrett. Tell him that Hirotoshi Shinji has a pick to bone with him, and a guest to meet him." The spike-haired man switched his accent to something more Japanese-sounding, even going so far as to scramble his grammar a bit. As the tender moved off to pass along the message, Jin turned to Hwoarang. "You know my public name now, if I failed to tell you before."
"I figured it out before," the Korean replied tersely. "The paintings were a dead giveaway." Jin tilted his head a little, kept his gaze for a long moment, and smiled enigmatically.
Hwoarang was at a loss. He knew that his host did this sort of thing fairly regularly- going to these 'mobile dance clubs' as he had called them- but what was *he* supposed to think? Which was the real Jin anyway- the one that wore a different persona for every occasion, the one that grabbed people out on the street for information he suspected they held... or the one that captivated effortlessly with a single glance and a gentle smile?
Based on T3, Hwoarang's ending: He's tired of fighting. He's tired of being alone. He's even tired of college! Jin picks up Hwoarang's tab in a bar, with some interesting results. Yaoi: m/m relationship (Jin X Hwoarang). R for language misuse, implied illegal action, & sexual activities.
Author's Note: I've never played any other Tekken game but T3, so I'm going to pretend that none of the others exist anymore. And Hwoarang did not join any stupid army! *snorts at the absurdity of the idea* That would really ruin my story. Maybe he became a citizen of the country he's going to college in... Yes... I think I like that idea... but I'm still referring to him as Korean, since that is his birth nationality.
Author's Note 2: I don't own Tekken or its characters, so don't sue me, but I can damn well ignore the parts of both that I don't like since I'm not even writing this for profit! *crosses eyes and sticks tongue out*
---------------------------------
Author's Note 3: I hate tests. I hate computer viruses. But most of all, I hate writer's block... For those of you who expected something a little more... interesting... for this chapter, my apologies- but I lost the old chapter I had almost completed to a virus. This one isn't nearly as long (old one was almost seven pages!!! GRRRR), nor as detailed, I will probably upload a different version of it at some point. But for now... just bear with me and, if you have any 'picks to bone' with me, drop me an email or R&R. ^ . ^
Author's Note 4: I usually respond to reviews in the same place, but I believe last time I forgot to thank you guys for all the positive energy. It is what made me start writing the 8th chapter again...
---------------------------------
"But war can have its uses," Hwoarang said thoughtfully as he stepped off a curb into the crosswalk. "It keeps the ignorant violent people busy, so the rest of us can live in relative peace."
Jin shook his head as they strolled along, unable to agree with the redhead's reasoning. "We don't need war, no matter how useful it seems to be in the current world. Those who are, as you put it, 'ignorant violent people' should be educated such that their ignorance goes *poof* and their energy becomes focused on other things. Isn't that why you came to America to study?" he asked, perhaps a little sharply.
Hwoarang ducked his head, trying to hide the immediate anger he couldn't quite subdue. "I don't know why," he said softly. "I was never senseless, not really. I mean... my senses were screwed up most of the time in my youth, and sure I was a bit more aggressive than I had reason to be, but-"
"You had that well in control by the time I saw you first, or you would have been more likely to kick my butt," Jin teased. He was relieved to see a faint smirk on his former rival's face. "But then, you accepted an invitation to better yourself when your mentor took you in. I honestly don't know how many people would do the same, when it means learning not only a method of self-defense, but also self-discipline and self-respect."
"All of which I am still working on," Hwoarang pointed out, grin widening.
"As am I," Jin shrugged good-naturedly. "Anyone who tells you they have mastered those concepts beyond intellectually, is full of bullshi-" He stopped walking abruptly, keen ears having heard the sound of running feet coming their direction. He motioned for Hwoarang to move away from the circle of light created by the nearest streetlamp.
"What-" the Korean started to whisper as he pressed his back against the brick wall of a pet shop, low whimperings and such occasionally heard from within.
"Shhh," Jin breathed. His dark amber eyes gleamed reflection of the light as he turned his head this way and that. He pointed silently and nodded once. "Watch my back," he mouthed.
Hwoarang nodded, swallowing nerves as tension began trickling through him. The small dark figure didn't become any clearer as it came closer, since it dodged nimbly around the light cast by lamps, but it became more audible. Whoever- whatever- it was, it was breathing heavily. It stumbled as it started to pass them, and Jin leaped forward to grab it roughly by the back of its black garments. It let out a low moan as he pulled it into the light. "It wasn't me!" it said- the voice was unmistakeably male, although high pitched with fright. He didn't even try to struggle.
Hwoarang stayed put, wondering what the hell his host was doing. Whoever this was, if he was running so intently that he didn't notice two possible thugs on the sidewalk, he shouldn't be bothered. It was dangerous to be moving around at night in the middle of the city, especially alone.
Jin put his arm around the diminuitive man's neck and pulled up the left sleeve of his hoodie. There on the upper arm, as expected, was a weird tattoo, much resembling a shuriken. *Gang member now,* Jin thought with an internal sigh. "Dath," he cursed aloud. The guy jerked like he'd been punched in the stomach. "Why ya runnin'?" he asked, and Hwoarang gaped. *Where'd the accent come from?*
"I don't fight, and I didn't want to die. Please let me go! I didn't do it!"
"Do what?" Jin growled, tightening his hold slightly. His eyebrows drew together. "Tell me wha'cha know, Math, or I swear I'll tell yer mum."
"Dirty Laundry," the man gasped. "Narked and planted-"
Jin was silent for a long moment, memorizing the tatoo before thrusting the man away with a harsh laugh. "If ya wanna run, den go. I b'lieve ya for what 's worth."
"Not much," the gang member paused to say, "unless you can do something about it!" Without saying anything further he whirled and dashed off in much the same fashion in which he had approached them.
Jin turned toward Hwoarang before he could ask. "Because street rats know almost everything, and because I know that one. You in shape?" Without waiting for a response he took off as well, in the direction the near-midget had come from. The Korean followed with some misgivings, swearing to himself he'd get the story out of Jin one way or another. The spike-haired man had a little trouble with his boots, but other than that knew himself to be in top form. His breath came easily enough for him to speak in a near-conversational tone, if a bit jerky. "I will explain later, please just trust me for now. I might need your help. A lot of my public persona's allies are at that concert." He was quiet for a moment as they veered a sharp right into a small alleyway lined with doors, some barred by boards or padlocked. "The door at the very end, down in the basement... that's where we're headed. You okay?" he asked as he slowed down to a more reasonable walk.
"Fine," Hwoarang lied, his lungs burning with the effort of speaking normally. *No, oh shit, that's a-* He bent over double quite suddenly and started hacking.
"Hwoarang??" Concerned, the Japanese fighter turned to see what was wrong.
With one final explosive cough, a small insect hurtled out of Hwoarang's mouth and bounced off the pavement. "Much better now," the redhead said hoarsely, then scowled. "Why are you laughing?" he demanded.
Jin wheezed. "N-nothing." He composed himself hurriedly, straightening his clothes, and glanced at the open end of the alley. "I'm just hoping we weren't followed." He led the way to the end of the alley, where a narrow set of stairs dropped down below street level into darkness. "One thing," he said apologetically, "the stairs are rigged to lock the door and bar it from the inside if anyone steps on them."
"So we'll have to jump down?" Hwoarang guessed, nostrils still flaring with the force of his breathing.
"Not quite that bad... or worse, maybe. We'll have to walk down on the guardrail. There's only one."
The Korean squared his shoulders and nodded, trying to act convincingly. "No problem. You can go first though."
"So I intended." Jin let loose a small breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He grabbed the guard rail at its even point with both hands and pulled himself up onto it, gave himself a moment to balance, and stood up completely. His eyes were already adjusted to the darkness, and he hoped Hwoarang's would do the same once he started *his* descent. For Jin, who had plenty of practice on similar rails all over the city, it was quite easy to scramble down at a half-run, feet landing precisely with each step (in spite of the ungainly footgear) until the end- at which point the rail had no level place. He hopped off, landed with a light thud, and called softly up to what he was now thinking of as his "backup": "I'm down."
*Why do I let myself get into these situations...* Hwoarang exhaled and clambered up on the rail as Jin had done. He put his right hand in front of himself, fingertips just brushing the wall, and held the other out behind him in the same fashion, his torso twisted to stay as close as possible. The first step was the worst- he could just barely see the slope of the rail, and a vague outline at the bottom of it that had to be Jin. His foot slipped once (toward the wall luckily, although he corrected it in time to recapture his balance), but after that it wasn't bad. Then as he came to what he thought was the end of the rail, he put his foot out expecting to find something solid. There was only air. His leg made some flopping motions as he tried to lean back onto his left foot, but it was too late. "Waaak!" he half-yelled as he fell forward.
Instead of hard concrete and bruises, he was caught by a rather smug Japanese. "First time I came down one of these, I didn't have anyone to catch me," he confided, holding on to Hwoarang for longer than could be considered necessary before putting him down. *He seems to weigh next to nothing. Not like before, during our matches.* There was no time to ponder, though.
"Thanks," the redhead mumbled.
He seemed embarassed, but Jin didn't mind. He smiled in the darkness and went to open the door. "I don't know what to expect- Math said it was 'narked and planted' but that doesn't mean anything worse has happened. If we can warn them to evacuate-" He shook his head and turned the knob. "I'd hate to have the only real mode of- err, public entertainment left in this damned city come to an end." They walked into a hallway lit by a row of candles on the floor, Hwoarang following closely; he figured that this was Jin's territory, and it felt safer being behind his casual confidence. He didn't want to think about that too much.
The hallway opened into a mostly dark, humming atmosphere full of incense smoke, ghostly forms moving through it, and blacklit colors everywhere. The upraised platform in the middle of the room had some band equipment on it, but there was no sound coming over the speakers and nobody near the instruments. Jin peered around, scanning for familiar faces, and let out a small laugh. "Who would have ever imagined," he whispered just loud enough for Hwoarang to hear, "I see my favorite liquor store clerk is here. And there's Jask Manin, he owns Cafe Sans Coeur Nuit, just in case you didn't know. And Will O'Muir, best light show coordinator I've ever seen-"
"What are we going to do then?" the Korean asked, a little nervously. "Looks like the band is taking a break."
"Let's go to the bar and find out. The vocalist for the band also happens to be the guy who set all this stuff up tonight, he's funding everything except the food and drinks, so if anything is wrong he'll know." Jin set off through the smoke, leaving his guest no choice but to follow. They recieved a couple catcalls on the way across the room, but except for making the Japanese fighter smirk in satisfaction and Hwoarang's face go hot at the attention, there were no ill effects. This side of the room was set up in an interesting way: bar and stools went along most of the wall on one side, the other two walls were set up with carnival mirrors and faceted mirrors. The corners of the room on this side were strung with shiny things and glowing shapes and beads, and of course speakers strategically located absolutely everywhere. Jin didn't stop though, just walked straight up to the bar and leaned across the counter for attention.
The server grinned toothily, showing off brilliant neon yellow braces, and set the mug he'd been polishing down on the back counter. "What can I get ya?"
"Get me Garrett. Tell him that Hirotoshi Shinji has a pick to bone with him, and a guest to meet him." The spike-haired man switched his accent to something more Japanese-sounding, even going so far as to scramble his grammar a bit. As the tender moved off to pass along the message, Jin turned to Hwoarang. "You know my public name now, if I failed to tell you before."
"I figured it out before," the Korean replied tersely. "The paintings were a dead giveaway." Jin tilted his head a little, kept his gaze for a long moment, and smiled enigmatically.
Hwoarang was at a loss. He knew that his host did this sort of thing fairly regularly- going to these 'mobile dance clubs' as he had called them- but what was *he* supposed to think? Which was the real Jin anyway- the one that wore a different persona for every occasion, the one that grabbed people out on the street for information he suspected they held... or the one that captivated effortlessly with a single glance and a gentle smile?