12/18/08: Name changes for minor characters implemented. They are as follows:
Foxie- Hyun-Ok
Sugar- Sun Jung
Spice- Sun Hi
Viper- Jae-Hwa
The second installment of The Blood Talon's Heart. Please note that this chapter takes place at a later time than the prologue, so don't review telling me I have dates mixed up, I already know. And if you don't like coarse language I wouldn't recommend reading this story. Other than that, ENJOY!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Tekken characters, that credit belongs to the wonderful people at Namco. The other characters are the fruit of a bored mind.
Confrontation
The alarm went off, echoing mercilessly in the small apartment bedroom. A man's hand emerged from the tangle of sheets on the bed, blankets laying forgotten on the floor. The hand groped blindly for the off button until the seeking fingers found it. The following silence seemed louder than the noise had been. If it could be called silence. The sounds of downtown Seoul could still be heard, although muffled, through the apartment walls.
A disheveled head of red hair was next to emerge, eyes blinking sleepily as they squinting at the glaring crimson numbers on the clock.
"Aw, shit. It's only 11:00," Hwoarang muttered, untangling himself from the confines of the sheets.
Scratching the remainder of his hair, he made his way to the bathroom. Passing the mirror before he reached the shower, Hwoarang cussed under his breath when he saw his reflection. It still pissed him off that those military pricks had cut his hair.
'Nothin' like a cold shower to wake up,' he thought, gently rubbing his temples as his head throbbed from drinking the night before.
Throwing his boxers on the floor, he stepped into the shower, turning the icy water on and shivering as it met his skin. Washing quickly, he got out and grabbed a towel, slightly stiff from not being washed in an ungodly amount of time. He grimaced as he wrapped it around his waist, walking back to the bedroom.
Opening the top drawer in a beat up dresser, he found his last pair of clean boxers.
'This place really needs to be cleaned. The laundry needs to be done too,' he thought, noticing the sad state of his living quarters. 'Oh well, I can get one of the girls to clean it.'
Smirking to himself, he got dressed in the usual, throwing on a pair of jeans, a muscle T-shirt, and a pair of old combat boots. He hesitated before grabbing his goggles since he had alway worn them to hold back his hair while fighting. Slightly shrugging, he pulled them over his head anyway, and left for the place his gang had decided to meet today, locking the door behind him.
The bustle of the city greeted him like an old friend as he stepped out from the two buildings his door was situated between, namely, his apartment complex and the one next to it. He smiled as he felt the full freedom of the streets for the first time in a long time. People gave him a wide berth when they saw his expression: a triumphant, almost predatory grin.
He had received a letter from the leader of his former military unit, the one he had abandoned, that said he had been acquitted because of unforeseen difficulties.
'Unforeseen difficulties my ass. It's only because every man they've sent after me has been taken down. And they can't exactly bring grenades and tanks to drag me out of downtown Seoul.'
He laughed at this thought, receiving even more odd looks from passerby. With a start he realized that he had already walked the distance from his home to the usual meeting place. Turning down the alley, he was greeted with enthusiasm when he reached the back.
The few women called out to him, showing flashes of skin beneath leather jackets and tight mini skirts. One in particular showed plenty of skin, smiling seductively and licking her lips. The men just asked where the hell he'd been, and a few clapped him on the back as he passed.
"Hey guys," Hwoarang said casually, walking over to his motorcycle.
This was where they kept their bikes, the jewels of the gang. Taking the cover off of his, Hwoarang examined it, checking it for any scratches that might have appeared and giving the tires a quick look over.
"There's nothing there that wasn't there yesterday," a voice whispered into his ear, a warm body pressing up behind him.
"That doesn't mean I don't have to check," he replied, continuing to look his bike over, slightly irritated by the woman's craving for attention.
Realizing he would need a favor from her, he turned reluctantly from his bike and smiled, a somewhat strained expression, at the woman behind him. She smiled back, the red of her lipstick creating just as startling of a contrast against her white teeth as ever.
"Hey, Hyun-Ok, I was wondering if you could do me a favor."
The woman, Hyun-Ok, raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into the slightest of knowing smiles.
Ignoring the triumph in her eyes, Hwoarang continued, "My place needs cleaning. The laundry needs to be done too. Would you mind doing it for me?"
"You don't mean for free do you?" she replied, leaning slightly forward with hands on hips.
"Of course not," Hwoarang answered, slipping a small wad of bills into the cleavage exposed to him.
Ever the observer, Scar stood back and watched the two exchange silent messages without either of them knowing or reading the others body language.
'Well, I'm sure Hwoarang can read Hyun's,' he thought with a small smile. 'The woman sure is forward enough.'
He frowned at the implications of the situation, however. He didn't like the idea of women in a street gang. There were too many dangers and they were a distraction to the men.
'At least there's only three of them,' he thought with a sigh, looking at the three he was thinking about.
There was Hyun-Ok, flirting shamelessly with a distracted Hwoarang. She was dressed in her usual tight black apparel and the thigh high boots that seemed to be her trademark. Her jet black hair was left to fall free, brushing her chin at it's longest lengths, and her face was done in heavy makeup.
Scar shook his head at the impracticality of her whole outfit before returning his thoughts to the other two women.
They were known as 'the twins' when together and Sun Jung and Sun Hi apart. They're physical features were completely identical, but their personalities couldn't be any different.
Sun Hi was a calmer version of Hyun-Ok, with the tight clothing, heavy makeup, and constant flirtatiousness, while Sun Jung was completely the opposite, a casual dresser with a sweet nature that seemed out of place with the rest of the rough and tumble attitudes of everyone else had.
Scar almost smiled when he thought of the time the two more outgoing women had tried to force the timid one on Hwoarang, something Sun Jung would not take. She had gotten angry, telling the other two that they were sluts before slapping both hard enough to leave bruises. Hwoarang had had a good laugh at that one.
All three had been taken in off the streets and given shelter within the gang thanks to the redheaded leader's generous streak. Not to mention they could provide an excellent means of distraction during a hustle.
A sudden giggling made Hwoarang's second in command look up, bringing him back to reality. Jae-Hwa had started tickling Sun Hi, whose loud laugh was as known as her boisterousness. This led his eyes over to Hwoarang, who was stuck in an uncomfortable position with the ever-persistent Hyun-Ok.
Cutting in to save the redhead, he stepped forward and said, "Before you two start going at it, don't you think we should make some cash first?"
Hwoarang turned to glare at Scar, a searing look that said 'Don't give her any ideas'. Scar just shrugged slackly, he had only wanted to help.
"Just a suggestion..."
"Yeah. And it's a pretty good one. We haven't had a good fight in a while," Hwoarang agreed, grateful for an excuse to back away from the hungry-eyed woman before him."Who's up for it?"
Several people stood up or straightened from their positions leaning against the wall. All together, including Scar and himself, Hwoarang counted nine people eager to fight.
The eager group went to seek out opponents, but the other gangs took one look at Hwoarang and refused, knowing they stood no chance. They tried to bait them, but the others wouldn't take it.
One man, a little younger than Hwoarang, complained, "Where the hell is all the action?"
"They're obviously not going to fight us if Hwoarang's a challenger," Scar replied calmly.
"Fine then, I won't fight the cowards. I'm sure you can kick their asses anyway."
The complaining man, Jae-Hwa, was going to reply when a feral grin spread across his face.
"Never mind. Fresh meat."
The others looked ahead to where Jae-Hwa was staring, and saw a woman sitting on a nearby bench, oblivious to everything but the book she was reading.
'She's definitely a tourist,' Hwoarang noted, taking in her current attire and hair. 'Cocky,' he thought, 'Being so confident in a strange city like this. Wonder how she'' react to Jae-Hwa...'
The woman didn't react how he expected. In fact, she didn't react at all.
Hwoarang watched as Jae-Hwa tried desperately to catch her attention, saying things that couldn't be heard from his position, and hovering over her.
The only reason Hwoarang knew the woman was aware of her admirer was the slight creasing of her forehead and the way her grip tightened on the book.
Jae-Hwa gave up, stalking back to the gang, all of whom had wry grins on their faces.
"Lost your touch?" Scar snickered.
"Shut up!" His pride stung, Jae-Hwa started lashing out.
"You fuckin' foreigners! You think you're hot shit and the rest of us are nothing! Well FUCK YOU! You stupid woman! You probably don't even speak Korean! Haha... You're not worth my time, you ugly bitch!"
With that said, or rather, yelled, Jae-Hwa turned on his heel, ready to saunter away. The rest of the gang turned with him, but stopped at the sound of a book being closed with a soft thump. Simultaneously, all turned back to see the woman standing in a defensive position, her eyes burning with anger as she stared at Jae-Hwa.
In steady Korean, she said, "Why don't you come say that to my face? Or are you afraid of an ugly bitch who can understand you?"
Jae-Hwa snarled, lunging forward, only to be stopped by Hwoarang's extended arm.
"I don't think you should, man." There was something about her stance that bothered him. Her attitude and body language conveyed that she was neither intimidated or afraid of of being faced against unequal odds. She must be either stupid or overly confident.
"I'll be fine. There's nothing she can do to me," Jae-Hwa growled, pushing past his leader and running toward the woman.
He didn't get too close, though. As soon as he was withing reach, she brought her left leg up, heel smashing solidly with his chin. The impact dropped him like a stone.
Before he could stop them, two of Jae-Hwa's friends rushed towards the woman
She dispatched them as easily as she had Jae-Hwa, her legs doing most the work.
Not wanting anyone else to fight this intriguing stranger, Hwoarang held his hand up in a halting motion. He walked toward the woman, who now watched him warily.
Scar stood back, watching the whole scene with interest. He also watched Hyun-Ok, who was seething with anger and concealing it poorly.
He could see why. Even in faded jeans, a loosely hanging t-shirt, and with her ponytail half falling out, the woman who now stood facing Hwoarang was easy on the eyes. Hers, however, was more natural than Hyun-Ok's heavily painted look.
"In less than 10 minutes that woman has caught more of Hwoarang's attention than you have the whole time he's known you," Scar said demurely, adding salt to the wound.
Hyun-Ok hissed through her teeth, glaring at Scar for a moment before turning her hatred back to the stranger. She watched as the strange woman and Hwoarang stood facing each other, neither of them moving.
'Not bad...' Hwoarang thought, carefully observing his opponent. The gang snickered when they saw their leader checking out the woman. And he was, but it was more of an analytical appraisal than a sexual one.
Judging by the strength of her attacks, she had a muscular body, although the baggy clothing made it hard to tell. The exposed skin of her arms and face indicated she had the light tan, which probably meant outside work or training. Her brown hair was pulled back into a practical ponytail, the stray strands tucked behind her ears. Light aqua eyes appraised him just as he had appraised her.
Both fighters bowed slightly, keeping their eyes locked on one another. And then they stood, bodies tense but unmoving. They studied each other, neither wanting to initiate and expose a weak spot.
Feeling those behind him shifting restlessly in anticipation, Hwoarang moved in first, sending a practice kick towards her head. She dodged it easily.
Becoming more aggressive, he increased the force and speed of his kicks. The woman still dodged him, blocking with her forearms if necessary. Still, he knew he was slowly wearing her down.
It took him by surprise when he had to block. In the moment it had taken him to think, the woman had found enough time to launch an attack of her own.
The combination of strength, speed, and finesse with which she struck was a pleasant surprise to Hwoarang. It was all he could do to shield himself.
'She's good,' he thought, avoiding another kick to the head. 'But not good enough.'
With a deft movement he caught her leg, but instead of breaking it and crippling her, he just flipped her onto her back, the impact making her body shudder. Hwoarang moved away to let her get up, watching as she sat up, shaking her head like a stunned animal.
Her once restrained hair now hung free, partially obscuring her face. With a sweep of one arm she threw it back and into a partial twist to clear her vision.
Hwoarang braced himself when he saw her come at him again, but noticed there was something wrong with the way she approached him.
'She's leaning slightly,' he noticed, a second before the barrage of punches made contact. 'And her attacks aren't as forceful as they were.'
He could see she knew there was something wrong with her body, it was in her eyes. She had the expression of someone who knew they were losing but refused to give up. For some reason this irritated him, and with a slight dodge, he grabbed her arms and tripped her, laying her on the ground with her wrists pinned above her head.
She struggled, letting out a string of English cuss words.
'I do know English you stupid woman,' he thought, putting pressure across her legs to stop her kicking with one of his own legs.
She stopped fighting with a gasp of pain, glaring up at him, the determination to win still burning clear in her eyes. He had found the reason for her diminished fighting power. One of her legs had been injured when he had flipped her.
Something inside his memory clicked as he stared into her blazing eyes, her breathing ragged from either exertion or anger at being laid low. Hwoarang remembered what Master Baek had said when he was training...
"Never disrespect an opponent that has the fire, Hwoarang. The opponent you have laid low, that still looks at you with the will to fight, and does not beg for mercy. That is a fire that you have. When you meet one of these opponents, put yourself in their shoes. Treat them as you would want to be treated. Do not gloat and rub defeat in their face, as the victorious are prone to do. But as a honorable fighter, give them the respect they deserve as a worthy challenger. You must understand this to fully master Tae Kwon Do..."
"Master Baek..." Hwoarang whispered, receiving a confused look from the woman still trapped beneath him.
Releasing her wrists, he moved his hands to hers, sliding his fingers into her clenched fists to help her stand. Pulling her up, he set her on her feet gently. She looked at him warily, her body still tensely defensive.
"You don't have to worry," he said in Korean, figuring he'd keep his English abilities to himself. "That wasn't too bad of a fight."
At this he gave the slightest of bows. The woman looked at him in shock, bowing to him as well, no deeper than he had bowed to her.
She wasn't the only one to be shocked. Hwoarang's gang stood in the background gaping, including those who had woken from their unconscious states.
Even Scar's mouth hung open. Hwoarang had never bowed to anyone except his Master Baek. Looking at Hyun-Ok, he saw her literally shaking with rage. He could not resist the temptation of taunting her that this scenario brought.
"Rather intimate position they were in... Hey!"
He had not expected her to strike so viciously. Holding his bleeding cheek, Scar watched as the infuriated woman stormed back to the rest of the gang, her heels making angry clicking sounds against the pavement.
"Well, she took that better than expected..." he murmured, taking his hand from his face and looking at the red stains on his fingers.
One man heard him and turned to look in time to see the livid scratcher turn the corner. He turned to grin at Scar, knowing the cause of the slashes across his face. Hyun-Ok would attack if cornered. Or if someone pissed her off.
Scar shrugged, turning his attention back to Hwoarang and the woman. 'Now what is he doing?'
Hwoarang had taken the woman's arm, despite her protests that she was able to walk, and was leading her to the bench she had been sitting on before they showed up. A silent signal told the gang to stay back.
"I can walk by myself, you know. I'm not a child. You don't need to hold my hand."
Hwoarang rolled his eyes, supporting the stubborn creature until she reached the bench to sit.
He smirked when she grumbled a 'thank you' and picked up her book.
"You really should get someone to look at that. Don't want to become crippled do ya?"
She glared up at him before opening the book and hiding behind it, mumbling something.
"What's that?" Hwoarang said, leaning down towards her.
The only reply she gave was moving the book closer to her face. Irritated, Hwoarang grabbed the hefty piece of literature from her, holding it at arms length. The woman seemed to forget she was injured and lunged for the book, whimpering at the sudden pain that shot through her body at the sudden movement. Hwoarang had to catch her with one arm, still keeping his prize from her grasping fingers as he set her back on the bench.
"Give it back!"
"Not until you tell me what you said."
"Honestly! You're like a little five year old!"
Shaking his head at her, the redhead opened the book and started to read. It was marked at the beginning of a chapter titled 'Shamanism'. Intrigued, he looked at the cover. In flourishing script it was titled 'Ancient Korean Medicines and Practices'.
"Why are you reading this? You sick?"
"No. Would you please give me my book?"
"Not until you tell me what..."
"FINE!" she cut him off. "I said I can't afford going to a hospital! Now would you please give it back!?"
He handed it to her silently, wondering why she could not afford a doctor. When she stood up he didn't try to stop her.
'Something is definitely wrong with her right leg,' he concluded, watching the way she kept all her weight on her left leg. She limped when she started to walk away from him and toward the gang, the way out of where they now stood.
A sudden impulse made him walk up and scoop her into his arms.
She jumped instinctively. "What are you doing?!"
"Taking you to a hospital, stupid."
"You're not one to talk about intelligence! I bet you didn't even make it through high school!"
He snorted, smirking at the juvenile retort and continued to carry her out of the alley despite the beating she was giving his chest with her fists.
"I'm taking the wild animal to the vet," he informed Scar jokingly, receiving an especially harder hit than the others had been.
"I am not a wild animal! Now let me go you cocky bastard! I'm sick of your games! Let me go!"
Hwoarang sighed in mock exasperation, "I think I'm going to have to return her to the pet shop. There's just no telling if the animals you get nowadays have rabies or not... Ow! Son of a bitch!"
The woman had bitten him on the neck, hard enough to leave marks but not bleed.
"I'll show you rabies, you insolent bastard! Stupid fucking manwhore!..." she trailed off, starting to use English curses instead. Hwoarang laughed inside, understanding every word she said.
"Got quite a mouth on her, huh?" Scar commented, taking an immediate liking to the fiery woman in his leaders arms. "Kind of like a nicer Hyun-Ok, isn't she?."
"Don't even joke about that," Hwoarang growled.
"Lighten up, I was just joking..."
"Hwoarang?" the woman spluttered, putting a halt on her stream of curses. "Your name is Hwoarang? 'Flowering manhood'..." She burst out laughing.
Glaring at her, he gave her right leg a tight squeeze, only mildly regretting his action when she stopped laughing with a yelp of pain.
"No need to get all defensive," she grumbled, settling down.
"Decided to cooperate?" Hwoarang asked, shifting her weight gently so his arm was in a more comfortable position under her knees. "And speaking of names, what's yours? I don't plan on calling you 'the woman'."
"No. I still plan to make your life a living hell as long as you impose it on me, but there's really nothing I can do right now. I'm not in the best position to be making demands now am I? And why is my name important to you?"
Scar laughed. "She's got you there."
"It's not important. I was just curious."
The woman sighed, rolling her eyes, "My names Faith. Although why we need introductions when you're just going to drop me off is beyond me."
"Whatever," Hwoarang muttered. "You should just be glad theres a hospital nearby, woman, or else you'd be in for a bumpy ride."
It was her turn to snort as she looked past his shoulder to see the rest of the gang following at a distance.
"This must be one of those street gangs... Are you the leader? Are you hustlers?" Faith asked, looking intently at Scar, the older of the two men. "And what's your name?"
"You can call me Scar. And yeah, we fight for money, though hustler is such a harsh word. I am not the leader, the man carrying you is. If you find Hwoarang to be to hilarious a name, you can call him Blood Talon. That's what he's known as on the streets."
Faith looked at the man carrying her with new respect.
"Hmm... I can tell why. Such a lovely dye job."
Hwoarang looked down to glare at her, but couldn't help but inwardly smile when he saw the impish look in her eyes.
"You look like you born with your head in the sand, so we're even... And we're here at the hospital."