Chapter II: Shock

A/N: Thanks for your interest, guys. This is going to be my last update for

two weeks, as I'm going on vacation to Greece, and won't be back till the

Sing District, Seoul

The cocky smile slowly slid off Hwoarang's face as he began to walk the more familiar streets of Sing. His head turned this way and that, seeking friendly faces, but he saw none. It was dark, the bars should have opened and the clubs should have been overflowing with people. As it were, the bartenders and owners of the places he passed gave him strange, fearful looks, before hanging "closed" signs over their doors, and scurrying to safety. Soon, Hwoarang found himself alone.

Hwoarang tried to convince himself that everything was "cool", that it was no big deal, and that the punks and their motorcycles were staying off the streets only because of some police raid. His efforts were all in vain, as they only seemed to deepen his sense of dread. Already, alarm bells were ringing in his head.

A stray cat yowled miserably, and Hwoarang jumped. He swore loudly and bolted. He was not normally a coward, but his instincts, which had kept him alive on the streets for years, screamed at him to run. He strained his keen ears as he raced along, but all he heard was the pounding of his feet on the asphalt and the hammering of his heart. He stopped dead when he reached the antique shop.

Kim's antique shop. The facade for the headquarters of Sing District's drug operations. Hwoarang's stomach lurched feebly when he saw the front door ajar; he entered without a second thought, intending to put up a desperate fight if confronted by an intruder.

Hwoarang's eyes darted back and forth as he took in his surroundings. The entire ground floor had been trashed; tables had been upturned and the fragile antique pieces had been smashed to splinters. But the place was deserted. Hwoarang stepped over the remains of a Buddha statue and made for the stairs.

The upper floor was in a similar state of disarray, but Hwoarang felt a sense of relief wash over him upon entering the room that the boys shared.

They were there, the boys, lying on their futons, seemingly asleep, with the covers up to their chins. Hwoarang was so relieved that he did not even question the fact that it was still too early for bed. There was Seong, the second toughest kid in the district and Hwoarang's sparring was sitting in his dark corner, his back to the wall, brooding as usual. Hwoarang went up to him and gave him a playful punch in greeting. The boy merely slumped onto the floor, and it was then that Hwoarang saw the gaping wound in his chest. He recoiled in horror.

Hwoarang took a few shaky steps back, but he dared not look at the other boys, or check for confirmation underneath their covers. But he knew it in his heart; they were all dead. He silently fled the room.

Where was Kim? Amidst all the chaos and turmoil within him, that question still bore down on him like thunder. It had become apparent to him that the perpetrators of the crime had fled, so he felt safe enough to move about the house, and he eventually found his master.

Kim was in his room; Hwoarang gave a strangled cry of shock at the sight before him. The man had been strung up from the ceiling, cruelly bound so that his shoulders were dislocated. Long, thin, lethal-looking needles protruded from his body; he looked more pierced than a pincushion. Droplets of blood oozed from his empty eye sockets and joined the huge pool on the floor. The body kept swinging weakly like some grotesque dummy.

Hwoarang continued to stare up at his master's lifeless form, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound coming out. Finally, he emitted a strange moan and proceeded to run out of the room, in a strange way, with his arms bent stiffly at his sides. He did not stop until he reached his own room, where he flung himself down on the bed, curling in the fetal position. He did not hear the wail of the sirens in the distance, and he remained in that position until the police found him.

Local Precinct

Hwoarang was coming to. He had not recovered from the shock yet, but he had more pressing matters to tend to. He found that he was in an austere looking room, sitting on a hard-backed chair, with lights glaring at him and two officers hovering above him. One was tall and well-built and seemed intimidating. The other was of a frailer build and looked concerned. In spite of everything he had been through, Hwoarang smiled inwardly. Ah.. the Good Cop, Bad Cop Game. He was familiar with this drill from all the movies he and his friends had sneaked in to watch during weekends. He closed his eyes; those meathead cops were getting nothing out of him.

Seoul Children Asylum

And so it was that Hwoarang, with his reluctance to talk, and his talented performance before the child psychiatrists who assessed him, found himself confined to an asylum for mentally disturbed minors. He knew he could not be touched there. He had seen it in a movie once, where the hero plays his way into the loonybin so the cops would stop pestering him. The doctors suspected Hwoarang was of sane mind, but there was nothing they could do to make him leave. Hwoarang found that they liked to reveal the gory details of their professions."This boy watched his mother get shot by a crack dealer,"they would tell him, as though they believed this alone was enough reason to make him "spill his guts". He had made a friend though, a very pretty nurse with an angelic face, whose name was Lin, and who would give him the best meals and hold his hand and tuck him into bed. He was in love.

Hwoarang eventually lost all concept of time. He would lie in his bed for days, reliving those shocking moments, doing his best to overcome them, to banish them from his mind forever. He would even plot ways to escape from the asylum. He lost weight. The doctors and the nurses finally tired of him; even his sweetheart Lin gave up on him. Hwoarang couldn't care any less.

Then one day, one of the doctors came to see him, and Hwoarang instantly switched to "blank form". The doctor told him with great impatience that he had a visitor who was eager to talk to him and that it wasn't a cop. The doctor then left Hwoarang to his dark thoughts.

A/N: That's it for now. Hwoarang has a mystery visitor(three guesses who...)