Author's Notes: Thank you for the great reviews. I’m sorry if you’re reading this for HwoaJules, because I’m not a Julia fan, so it’s safe to say that, that specific couple won’t live happily ever after. Although I am flattered that you still read even through the yaoi.
I know I mentioned more Masochism, and haven’t really delivered much, but don’t worry because I already have a bit written into the next chapter. And as for the mystery of where I’m taking this fic… I know you don’t want me to tell you but I couldn’t even if you did. I have no clue. Should I be admitting that? Oh well…
**Disclaimer**: Tekken is owned by Namco and not me. I just manipulate the characters for entertainment purposes.
Chapter 3 - To Trap A Man
Condemned. How come the condemned places were always the funnest places to hang around in? Danger signs were everywhere, but signs didn’t count for much in that district. Signs meant to warn people away typically did more attracting then repelling. Defeats the whole purpose if you really think about it, but at least the locals know where the most dangerous places to party were, and that’s the most important thing.
Hwoarang stepped inside the condemned theatre. Smashed beer bottles, spray paint cans, used condoms, and a million other unthinkable things littered the dirty wooden planks. He made his way down the rows of broken, grimy seats, lighting a joint as he walked. It was five minutes to ten, so he figured he had a few minutes to wait before his rival arrived and found him. Hopefully he’d have enough time to finish the joint in peace.
Easier thought then done. As he made it halfway down the red-carpeted path, a man stepped out onto the stage from backstage. Jin Kazama was early. Hwoarang stopped mid-stride and exhaled a cloud of smoke as he casually returned his rival’s quizzical gaze.
Hwoarang walked leisurely to the stage and climbed up. It was rather nice to finally have Jin Kazama’s full attention without the typical tolerant expression he had been used to. He didn’t want to be tolerated. He wanted to be wanted. Important. Even though he had made his presence somewhat of a nuisance. “Now what is it you want to talk to me about?” He asked as if he hadn’t a clue.
“I want to talk about you,” Jin answered calmly, “Actually, I do not want to talk at all. I want to listen to you explaining what was going on last month. I know I asked you to leave me alone, but that’s the kind of thing that gets a guy paranoid.”
The Korean nodded, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“That’s not an explanation.” Jin crossed his muscular arms over his chest, “That’s an apology. Though I appreciate the effort, I did not ask for an apology.”
“Alright. Ok…” Hwoarang sat down on the edge of the stage, trying to decide what lie to tell his rival. It was difficult, but he thought of one, “I guess I went a little crazy. I suppose I got a bit angry at your dad and went to take it out on you, but things didn’t go the way I had planned, and then I kissed you. Maybe I was just looking for something stupid to do. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”
Jin sat down on the edge several feet away from the Blood Talon. He looked down at his feet and then back at his rival, having trouble deciding what to ask first. Finally he made a decision, “My father? What did he do?”
“Same thing he did last night,” Hwoarang lied. He considered Jin for a moment before peeling off his shirt to reveal the wounds he acquired in the fight against the Egyptian. “It’s nothing serious. It just pisses me off sometimes.”
“Why did he do that to you?”
Hwoarang shrugged and took a long shaky dreg of his joint, absently. The memories of his first encounter with the devil were haunting him. It didn’t seem right. It had been too easy to get rid of Kazuya the previous night. “It was more the devil in him. Hell, I could fuck up your old man… Now is that all you wanted to talk about? I gave you the best explanation I can, so are we finished?”
There was hesitation, “Yeah… we are.”
The Korean could sense the uncertainty, and had to fight against smirking at it. It could work to his advantage, right? “Fuck, Kazama. With a tone like that, I don’t know what I should be doing right now. Do you want me to stay or not?”
Jin bit his lip and looked back down at his feet, “I don’t know…”
“Well I don’t have the time to just sit around and wait for you to make up your mind,” The Korean hopped off the stage and started down the red carpet, “When you do make a decision, have your people call my people.”
Jin’s mouth opened to speak, but his voice didn’t follow. He frowned and slid off the stage. Why did he always have to be the honest one? As he was about to run after his rival, his shoe got snagged in the carpet, and sent him falling hard on his hands and knees. Talk about embarrassing. The Japanese man looked up to see his rival grinning down at him.
“Wow you’re graceful,” Hwoarang laughed as he helped Jin to his feet.
It was a difficult thing to do, but something had to be done. Jin grabbed the back of Hwoarang’s neck and pulled him into a determined kiss. Of course, the Korean kissed back immediately as if he had expected it. As if he was the one who initiated it. Although, in some senses, he was.
Hwoarang put his hands around his rival’s waist, and pulled the muscular man closer as he broke from the kiss. He showered Jin with a series of teasing kisses, leading from the corner of the lush Japanese mouth, to just below his ear. The seductive trail sent chills down Jin’s spine. He didn’t know how to react to the situation, but his hands automatically found the fiery silken hair.
Jin felt himself being eased back into a sitting position on one of the broken, but cushioned, seats. Korean lips continued the trail down his neck as experienced fingers unzipped the jacket, and pulled off the shirt underneath with it. He gently ran his hand along the firm body before him, and continued his trail of kisses lower.
A purple ghastly glow engulfed the unsuspecting Jin. He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly looking incredibly pained. Something bad was happening. Jin tensed dramatically and began to breath deeply as he clutched at the seat beneath him. He hissed with every unstable intake of breath.
Cruel laughter alerted Hwoarang to their guest. He looked over his shoulder and got to his feet. It took him a few seconds to realize what was happening. The Korean glanced down at his rival before running at the newcomer, and tackling him to the filthy floor. He got back to his feet and glared down at his former lover, “Get up, you bastard.”
Kazuya’s eyes were glowing, signifying the devil’s presence. The battle was in Devil’s favour, but Hwoarang was intent on going down with a fight. He wouldn’t cower when his rival was in the room, so he attacked once Kazuya got to his feet with a simple right heel lance. He lifted his leg into his flamingo stance, catching the devil’s eye before stepping down to turn around and sweep his other up to connect with Kazuya’s chest.
The powerful blow took the devil by surprise and sent it flying back into some seats, breaking them even further. It wasn’t often someone actually put up a good fight, and for that reason, and that reason only, it acquired some respect for the Blood Talon. It smiled as it got back up, its skin became a dark purple, and wings came out of its back. Not a pretty sight.
Hwoarang cursed himself once again for going to meet with Jin, but he knew it wasn’t something he could take back. A sneaker came at him in a spin kick, but he blocked it a little too easy, gaining confidence, only to watch the man continue spinning. Hwoarang prepared to block again, but the impact came lower then he suspected and he was swept off his feet. The devil smirked and hit him with a low kick before he could get back up, getting him in a rib.
The Korean bit back the pain and sprang to his feet. Missing a beat would cost the fight, and possibly his rival’s life. He grabbed Devil’s left wrist with his right hand, and turned into the creature so that his back was against its chest. He pushed back the Devil’s leg with his own, and flipped it forward over his shoulder. Hwoarang smirked back as he brought his heel down on it.
It growled and rolled backwards to its feet. It hadn’t expected quite a resistance from the Blood Talon, and Kazuya was already wanting to get out of there, trying to pull back control over his body. Devil leaped into the air and flew over the Korean’s head, unleashing two surging beams from its eyes. Once it was satisfied that its attack hadn’t been dodged, it flew out through and already weakened wall. Peaces of drywall and woodchips rained down on the stage, painting an almost beautiful picture. Now that was Art.
Hwoarang cried out as he fell to his knees. Bluish electricity visibly surrounded his body as it assaulted his organs and muscles. Luckily, it didn’t last long enough to do any serious damage, but his muscles continued jumping and convulsing long after. His eyebrows and tips of his hair were slightly singed, but it didn’t matter at that moment. What mattered was that he survived it.
The Korean finally was able to get to his feet and walk, wobbly, over to his rival. Jin wasn’t moving. Damn. Hwoarang didn’t bother checking for a pulse because he could see the other man breathing. Instead, he hauled the limp body over his shoulder, falling back to his knees under the weight. Hwoarang swore loudly as he strained his legs to push himself back up.
As he staggered out of the theatre, his mind was already searching for a lie to tell Julia.
“What’s going on?” Were the first words out of Julia’s mouth as she watched Hwoarang step through the door, carrying his rival. There was no, ‘Are you Ok?’ or any other inquiries about her boyfriend’s well-being. No. She knew him well enough that if he was hurt, he must have done something he shouldn’t have. He probably provoked a wrong crowd, but the presence of Jin made her even more curious. The young Kazama;s unconsciousness only made her weary of the answer she called for.
Hwoarang dumped the body in the bed in the next room, then came directly back out, cracking his neck. He fell to the couch with a deep, tired sigh that quickly turned into a yawn. A lie was easy to come up with, but the problem was delivering it without sounding rehearsed or just plain phony.
“Why aren’t either of you wearing shirts?” Julia questioned.
The Korean looked over at her and answered lazily, “Last night we planned to meet up to fight, and so that’s what we did. We fought.”
Julia frowned, “Don’t tell me you did that to him.”
“I wish,” Hwoarang laughed, “If I had I wouldn’t have carried him all the way here. We were attacked before we even really started fighting. Kazuya, or that devil thing, or whatever the hell he is… Did something really weird to Kazama, so I fought the thing off. You’re gonna have to take care of him. I ain’t touching him again, unless if its to kick his pansy ass.”
Julia smiled and hugged Hwoarang, “I can’t believe you saved your rival’s life. I’m so proud of you.”
“Don’t get the wrong idea. I only ‘saved’ him so that I could be the one to do him in.”
A/N: OH! One more thing… I’m planning on bringing another character into the mix. No not another lover for Hwoarang, but someone… like a bad guy sort of thing that can screw everything up for our darling blood Talon. Give me some suggestions! I need all the help I can get! I mean… Erm… Ah… Help me.
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