A/N: Yes. I know this is short but I wasn’t sure about this idea so I decided to try it out and whether I continue it or not will depend on the reviews I get.
**Disclaimer** Tekken is not MINE… Must you always make me rub it in my own face?
The rebels are starting up again… This is where they pull me in. My job is to kill a ton of people young or old, female or male. It doesn’t matter. They point a gun, I kill them. That’s how it works. I don’t want to kill. I don’t know why I’m killing, but whatever my orders, I will do…
It was the middle of summer. My
first year in the Korean Military was coming to an end, but there was no reason
to celebrate. I was supposed to send off the year by killing a bunch of people
for a cause I didn’t even know. Of course, I would. What kind of man would I be
if I refused to do my duty? Duty. What a strange word. A word that could make
the most horrendous acts sounds honourable. We were the heroes of our country
and we got to be heroes by killing, by taking innocent lives, and guilty lives
alike.
“DOO SAN!” One of my senior officers
hollered, bounding down the stairs of the barracks.
“Sir?” I asked, looking up from my
poker game.
He looked over my poker buddies and
snorted, “Always gambling,” He looked at me with disgust, “Commander wishes to
speak with you.”
I saluted him and stood up, throwing
my cards on the table in the typical, ‘I fold’ style. The guys waved me off
with a series of “Oh now you’re in trouble,” and “Don’t forget to use
protection,” remarks. They weren’t very creative when it came to teasing.
The stairs groaned under my weight.
I assumed the Commander was with the prisoners where he usually was. Always torturing
some person into revealing secrets. His favourite to torture was the women, but
they usually hung on to their secrets the longest. Perhaps that’s what he liked
about them. Or perhaps he was just a pervert with a badge. A pervert with
honour. Our Hero.
“Commander,” I said walking into the
room, “You wanted to speak with me, sir?”
He stood with his hands clasped
behind his back. His eyes slowly made their way to me in an uncaring fashion,
“Private.” He looked at a man sitting in front of him. A reporter. “This is Bae
Fang-Lee. I’m supposed to bring him around so he can get stories, but I am much
to busy to baby sit a reporter. You will take him. Remember to keep him a safe
distance from the action.”
“Uh… Yes Sir…”
The man stood casually and walked over
to me, expectantly. What he expected was unknown to me but I took him with me
anyway. I didn’t really want to be responsible for someone else’s life but
orders were orders.
Our orders were still unknown. We
were on a jeep, 6 privates – including me – 1 senior officer, and the reporter.
He was asking me all sorts of questions that I couldn’t answer and it was
wearing on my last nerves. Didn’t anybody tell him not to piss of a guy holding
a loaded gun when his job is to shoot people? Talk about a dumbass.
The jeep stopped in some trees. Our
senior officer turned toward us and got into his typical position for telling
orders. His arms spread out, resting on the back of seats, his eyes partly shut
lazily, but still alert, and his head tilted slightly as if he were daring us
to question him. I generally took that dare but I had to wait until he actually
spoke so I’d have something to question.
“We have a lead saying that a mile
ahead of us there’s a Rebel hideout. Your orders are to raid that hideout and
gather information. Look for documents, or any other papers you can find. Take
prisoners if you can. And as usual, only kill if they fire first.” He paused,
“I’m putting Twon in charge. Go through the back. Doo San. Obey Twon this time,
will ya? It’s very important that you follow orders.”
Of course since he called me on it,
you just KNOW that I couldn’t resist. Only I managed to stay silent and keep my
thoughts to myself. Unusual of me, but I had plans of my own.
We got out of the jeep and the
senior officer drove away after handing Twon a sketched map. Twon was an
arrogant asshole that was always being put in charge. He was a lot like me
except he kissed the asses of anyone more important then him. I wouldn’t resort
to insulting myself like that. So we started walking at a steady pace, not
wanting to exert ourselves before the potential battle. The reporter was
stumbling a bit, not used to this forest terrain, but he somehow managed to
keep his cool.
“Doo San… Can I ask you a few
questions about what your doing now?”
“Whatever. Just keep the quiet.”
He stumbled over a fallen branch,
“What are the rebels rebelling against?”
“The government,” I guessed,
“Religion, Alliances, I don’t know.” I pulled him away from falling into a huge
puddle, “There’s a million things they could be rebelling against.”
“Don’t you know?”
I glanced at him, getting more
annoyed, “No.”
He raised an eyebrow, “So why are
you going to raid their hideout and possibly kill some of them when for all you
know, they could be rebelling against a cause that you rebel against?”
“My job is not to know, but to
follow orders.”
Twon grinned, “And he doesn’t even
do that well. Now. Enough talking, more walking.”
A chorus of “YES SIR” sounded out. I
joined in but there was a bit more sarcasm in my words. Twon and mostly
everyone else that has come across me during my year in the military had
learned to ignore me.
We continued walking and started
jogging once we were about 2 football fields away. I fell behind slightly and
parted without being noticed by anyone besides the reporter. He followed me in
confusion, asking what I was doing, but I silenced him with a simple gesture of
the hand. I was only following the orders in my own fashion. The rebels would
most likely count on being attacked from the back, but not by one man in the
front. I placed the reporter in a bush far enough away so he wouldn’t be
spotted. I ran toward the supposed
hideout and ducked behind a tree to observe the place and plan out my attack.
There were no visible guards since it was supposed to be a secret hideout. It
was difficult to spot out an entrance and on first sight the place just looked
like a giant molehill.
I ran behind a tree closer, but
nobody fired at me like I expected, so I ran to another tree. Whoever these
rebels were, they weren’t very prepared. Or maybe they were too smart to fire
and give themselves away. There was no noise. I assumed the other guys were
still looking for a way in, or they were already inside. Maybe that explained
nobody being out here, either way I thought I had the advantage. Somebody
should have told me that there is no advantage when it comes to war.
I ran toward the entrance. Yes. I
was being an idiot, but being an idiot was my specialty and I was good at it so
why not? Still, no shots were fired. The door was locked so I kicked it open,
finding it sad that my need for hand-to-hand combat had to be satisfied by
inanimate objects like doors.
Inside I was met by the sound of
shouting from another room. I ran in absently and found myself being aimed at
by a dozen guns. Perhaps I could have been more careful. A bang came from
behind them and the all wheeled around, giving me the chance to kick a few
weapons out of their hands, grab a woman, positioning her so I could snap her neck
if need be, and aiming my gun at a man’s head. The bang was probably Twon and
the guys breaking into the back.
They reached for their guns but I
fired into the air, “Touch them and both of these people die. Just one simple
finger on one of those guns is all it will take to set me off.
They all moved away. The ones who
still had guns dropped them. Someone ran in behind me but I didn’t look away
from my targets. My ears focused on whoever it was behind me. Stumbling… The
reporter. “Fucker, I told you to stay where I left you.”
“I thought you could use some help.”
“Grab a gun. Shoot anyone who makes
any unnecessary movements.” I ordered.
To my surprise he reached for a gun,
only to be grabbed by one of the men, but before they could position him dangerously,
I pointed my gun at them and pulled the trigger, immediately moving my aim back
to the man closest to me so he wouldn’t have a chance to disarm me. The
reporter stared at the fallen man and scrambled for a gun whilst in shock. He
pointed it at somebody but I knew that if he had to pull the trigger he either
wouldn’t or he’d hesitate, putting us both in danger. Honestly, that was my
first kill, and I did it without so much as a blink of remorse.
“Doo San!” Twon ran in, “What are
you doing?”
“Following orders,” I answered
simply.
Twon growled, “I never said you
could break away from the group!”
“You never said I couldn’t.” My eyes
didn’t leave the men in front of me, “So Let’s look for those documents.”
“Men! Take these men and lock them
up. Doo San, I’ll leave you in charge of the woman. Question her and if she
makes a move, shoot her.”
I nodded and watched the rebels get
herded into another room. Once they were gone, the reporter dropped his gun and
sat down. I pushed the woman in front of me and watched her. Why did I watch
her? To give her a chance to settle her nerves slightly so when I questioned
her she’d give me real answers. Not the normal stuttering and rambling of a
terrified person. She stood there before me, trembling, but she watched me
back. Her eyes in a battle with mine. The woman almost stared me down.
The reporter observed us as he
reached for his pen and paper. His eyes focused mainly on my actions. The way I
handled things. My powerful stare was merely a cover-up. In truth, I had no
idea what to ask her. I had no idea what to do. Too bad I didn’t get the
chance.
She suddenly darted in one
direction. At first I was amazed at how well she moved. How her thick black
hair flew behind her like a cape. She reached for a gun, thinking since I
didn’t shoot yet, she had an advantage. No advantages. Ever. I pulled the
trigger. The woman fell to the ground, her eyes open, and a small bit of blood
trickling down her forehead. It was a lot less blood then I had expected…
I stood over her. This time I had
remorse. She was around my age and she was so innocent looking in her peaceful
lifeless state. It felt like I shouldn’t have shot her, but if I hadn’t, she
would have shot me. Or maybe she wouldn’t have. So I bent over and checked her
pockets for a wallet. I wanted to know who she was. There was none, of course,
only a couple trinkets and coins.
A couple men ran in behind me and
started firing. Absently, I dropped my gun and faked surrender. When they
lowered their guard to take me as a prisoner, I attacked with a Tae Kwon Do
combo that shocked them all, making it easier for me. The reporter shot into
action, manoeuvring in such a way that he was able to snatch a few of their
guns. Something about the way he moved made me think he belonged on a
basketball court, or even a football field.
Three of the men knew how to fight,
and once they recovered from the shock, two of them lunged at me, starting off
a combo of their own. Their technique was unfamiliar, and hard to block. They
fought a little like Yoshimitsu only much different. They brought me down
immediately but I wasn’t finished. I kicked them off me, and twisted one of
their arms, practically walking on them as they stood. The other one ran at me
and I did a jump kick getting him right in the face, and knocking him to the
ground. He laid sprawled there, his nose bleeding profusely. The other guy
grabbed me from behind and punched me in the stomach. I doubled over, coughing
only to be kicked in the jaw. The third guy was holding the reporter and
heading for a gun. I had no time to be in pain so I jumped up and did my
hunting hawk move on the guy holding the reporter, and twirled around
immediately upon landing to hit the other guy with a series of kicks and
finished him off with a bolt punch.
We hear clapping. Applauding. The
reporter stared past me so I turned around only to see Twon standing there
clapping. I hope he had a good show. Bastard didn’t even think to lend a hand.
I was beginning to think he wanted me dead. It would have definitely explained a
lot.
“Fuck off, Sir,” I saluted him
sarcastically, grabbed my gun and walked past him, not giving him the satisfaction
of seeing the pain of the battle take its toll on me. The reporter followed me.
“Wait,” He said but I ignored him, “Blood
Talon…”
I turned to face him, confused.
Nobody in the military knew me as blood Talon. How could he have known? “Do not
call me Blood Talon.”
“Why not?”
“Blood Talon would never touch a
gun.”