So sorry for the long pause, muse hasn't been the most active lately. Due to that, I feel that this chapter lacks some key essentials to it being a comedy. But anywho, let me not hold you up any longer. Stimulate your brain follicles and read!
Things That Go Bump in the Night
As if public transportation hadn't already been a bitch to him, now the people were too. He couldn't hail a taxi to save his life and none of the motorists would pick him up when he gave the hitchhikers thumb. Except one…
"Where ya goin', hot stuff?" A biker asked him as he pulled up. Hwoarang tried to act like he hadn't seen or heard him, but it was too late. The guy had seen his quick glance.
"Um…you know what? I think I'll walk; the exercise would do wonders for me." Hwoarang told him, continuing down the street.
The man kept up on his motorcycle. "You already look like a wonder to me," he muttered heatedly, staring at the young Korean through lidded eyes.
Hwoarang stopped and rounded on him. "What did you say?"
"You want a ride or what?" the guy asked, ignoring his question. Hwoarang considered his options. Honmaru was twenty miles away. Even if he miraculously ran half the trip, it'd still take him over four hours to reach there.
He looked at the guy on the bike and sighed. "Fine, but don't pull any sweet stuff on me." He stood beside the bike conjuring up every ounce of courage he had. This is normal in Europe, this is normal in Europe,he said to himself as he sat down, not knowing if it was true but needing to believe in it for sanity's sake.
"You're gonna need something to hold on to," the other man said. "Wrap your arms around me."
Why didn't I at least wear a long sleeved shirt?!Hwoarang silently screamed at himself. Instead, he'd worn his customary outfit of jeans and a tight short sleeved shirt. It was meant to attract some attention, but not this kind!
Slowly, an eternity going by, he put one arm and then the other around the man. "There we go. So, where too?"
"Honmaru," Hwoarang said, shutting his eyes tight so as not to see the stares others were giving them. The other man pulled off and Hwoarang was thankful for the bikes speed. This wouldn't last long. The guy tried engaging him in conversation, but he acted like he couldn't hear him due to the wind in his ear.
"Put your mouth close to my ear so you can hear me better!" The guy shouted, but that was completely out of the question. This too was ignored.
An hour later, they rode into the town. It was a place that Hwoarang expected Jin to be hiding out, trying to keep a low profile from his grandfather and resurrected father. The man stopped outside of a hotel and let him off. But before Hwoarang could get fully off of it, his hand was grabbed. It was rubbed all over the other man's face and his wrist was smelled before he could snatch it back. Hwoarang had no words for this, and simply shook his head and walked off.
"Come back, my beautiful rose!" the biker cried.
"Dude, I'm twenty-one, and you're like, fifty! Find someone your own age!" That was all he could come up with, but it seemed to work, for the man had a hurt and perplexed expression on his face as he drove away.
Hwoarang checked out a room at the hotel, using up the last of his money to do so. So that meant only one thing. "Time to fight for a bit of dough," he said with a smirk. He put on his fighting gloves and swaggered down the street, looking for someone who would put up some money for a duel.
He didn't have far to go, for it seemed that trouble found him, not the other way around. He'd already noticed people whispering and pointing, not at him himself so much, but more toward his head. "The goggles?" he thought, and pulled them off, letting a lock of hair fall into his eyes.
From around a corner, four young men appeared, one of them swinging a chain slowly. They stopped dead when they saw Hwoarang. "His hair is red! He's a Blood! Get him!"
They charged him and before the fight fully began, he muttered, "They have Japanese Bloods?! What the fuck is the world coming too?!" He swung a fist at the first guy, and a roundhouse kick to the second, threw the third one behind him where his head went through a restaurant's window, and hit a five hit foot combo on the fourth. They lay where they landed without moving.
"That's it? That's Japanese gangs for you?" He sighed and grabbed one of the men nearest him, taking his money and whatever valuables he could find. Pocketing the others' money, he went inside the restaurant that he'd just smashed the guys' head into and grabbed a table near the back.
The place was dimly lit, though everyone was laughing jovially, and enjoying themselves. Women wearing kimono moved among the tables refilling drinks. When one came to his table, he ordered a Heineken.
"Sake?" the woman asked. He shook his head.
"Heineken," he repeated.
She blinked at him. "Sake?" she asked again.
"No, dammit, I don't want any sake!" Hwoarang snapped. "Hei-ne-ken! That doesn't sound anything like sake!"
She blinked again, then very calmly said, "I get you sake. Calm fiery temper down," then left.
Hwoarang did a double take at her. She spoke English? And still couldn't get my order right?He groaned and put his face in his hands. "Japan sucks donkey dick," he said. The woman returned and put a glass with some clear liquid in front of him.
"Sake. Drink." She encouraged. Hwoarang sloshed it around for a moment before tipping back his head and downing the glass. The let the taste sit on his tongue for a moment.
"You know, this isn't half bad," he said. "Another." She gave a curt nod and left, returning a minute later with several glasses. He consumed all of them.
Ten minutes later, things began to seem a bit topsy-turvy. "Whoa! Am I on a carousel or did the room start moving?" he slurred. The waitress had sat down at his table to watch as he put back drink after drink.
"Hey, I have a secret, my dirty little secret," he said with a glazed smile. He leaned across the table, knocking over the glasses. "I have four balls. Two down here," he said, gesturing below. "And two here!" he cackled as he pointed to his face. "Get it? Eye balls?" He fell out of his seat, tears streaming down his face. He didn't even protest when security was called and he was dragged out onto the street.
The cold air helped to revive him some and he stumbled back to his hotel room. Through his drunken haze, he knew that a splitting headache awaited him in the morning so he sat a bottle of aspirin on the nightstand next to the bed. Without taking anything off, he collapsed into the sheets, snoring before his head hit the pillow.
Okay, like I said, my creativity has been lacking a bit here lately so forgive me if this chapter bored you to tears. Really, the true plot of this story will begin with the next chapter, so stay on the lookout for it! Anywho, you do you but please review!
