Yours Till Dawn

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RIIIIIIING!

BAM!

Hwoarang stretched, yawned, and cursed incessantly. Eyeing the alarm clock suspiciously through half-closed eyelids, he mumbled "... and don't you dare giving one more sound..."

Given its state, there was little risk of that, barring some serious repair. Sitting up, he threw his feet over the edge of the bed, and stood up, hearing a crack beneath his feet. "What the fuck?" Hwoarang looked down on the floor, and seconds later, he was holding his broken goggles in his hand.

"No! I fucking loved those goggles!"

Looking over to the alarm clock, he noticed its state, frowned slightly, then smirked. 'It appears I'm giving myself a head start on the breaking. And less than an hour from now, we're talking bones.' He felt his heart beat more forcefully when he thought about it. Sure, he knew it wasn't a tournament match. No, it was a lot more important than that.

Dressing barely took a minute. He had left his clothes on the floor by the bed the evening before, and didn't bother changing into something else. He liked that leather top and his jeans with chaps and straps sown onto them, especially when he was going to beat someone up. He could have chosen a gi, but for one thing, Baek wouldn't like him picking fights outside the tournament wearing one. Besides, and more importantly, in Hwoarang's opinion he wouldn't look nearly as cool.

The Korean walked over to the fridge, then frowned at the contents. A couple of the free Japanese beers and the banana he'd left there the day before. He originally brought it as lunch on the plane, but he hadn't felt like eating it. Cursing himself for not robbing Jin's fridge before he left last night, he ended up wondering if he could sneak in now without getting noticed. Snapping out of it with a sigh, he grabbed the banana. 'Damn, I'm hungry.' Not that he wanted it any more than the day before, but his body gave him firm orders.

On an uneasy stomach, Hwoarang left his room. Not wanting to be seen warming up, he walked out of the complex to prepare. The forest was strangely inviting, and he found himself walking along a narrow path until finding a small glade, tightly enclosed by trees still heavy with leaves. Given that the ground was rather flat, he decided it was suitable for his exercises, and he made an honest attempt at getting through the preparations Baek had taught him.

Clearing his mind and focusing soon proved to be impossible. Between being hungry, thinking about Jin and being a little overexcited about the fight, achieving calm just wasn't to be. Skipping that part of the program, he proceeded to work on getting his body ready. However, his concentration wasn't as good as it should, which only served to frustrate him further. After trying for a while, but not getting much out of it, he stopped with a sigh. 'At least I'm damn ready to kick the crap out of him. That'll do.'

High on adrenaline, Hwoarang walked briskly back where he came from. Passing through the entrance area, his feet took him to the training hall. He entered and looked the area over. There was no sign of his opponent, but mere seconds later he heard a voice behind him. "You're late."

Feeling extraordinarily punctual, for him anyway, Hwoarang checked his watch. Seeing the time, he sneered defiantly at the other man. "One bloody minute! Who fucking cares?"

"You're wasting my time! Let's step outside and get this over with."

Hwoarang smirked. "You're on." The other man seemed rather pissed off, which was a good thing. Angry people did rash things all the time, and he was confident he only needed one opening to win. Steel-toed boots was such a marvellous invention!

Passing through the glass door out to the well-kept garden, they walked past the fountain and a few trees. A small plaza made with coloured stones proved a good arena for the fight, where little if anything could be seen from the complex. Assuming his battle stance, Raven let his eyes wander momentarily before focusing on the Korean fighter. "Let's see if you can back up that attitude."

Hwoarang spoke through his smirk that had remained on his face throughout their walk. "I'll part you with that doubt..." He cracked his knuckles and slowly slid his left leg a few inches closer to the other man. With a slow blink, he was ready.

The first attacks he launched were largely designed to test his opponent, who proceeded to move away from them as they came. The frustration started to play its tune, as he couldn't connect anything whatsoever. With rising aggressiveness, Hwoarang soon found himself going full force at the black fighter, but all that accomplished was making Raven opt for fancier ways to dodge. Whereas Raven demonstrated he had done backflips and somersaults before, Hwoarang wasn't visibly impressed when he slowed down with an annoyed expression. "You think you're a fucking ninja or something?"

Raven's face betrayed no feelings, and he spoke with a shrug. "Maybe so, kid. Maybe so."

'No way, you're not getting off the hook that easily, you pompous shit...' The Korean searched his mind for a few seconds, and sighed mockingly as he rolled his eyes. "Why did you challenge me, anyway, if you're just going to run away?"

Apparently, that at least got him somewhere. The scarred fighter stopped dead and locked gazes with him. The next moment, the black man punched a fist lightly into the palm of his other hand. "Okay, come at me."

Hwoarang attacked again, and Raven switched to blocking all attacks. High kicks, low kicks and punches didn't seem to get him anywhere at all. Raven simply deflected them, or took the impact with a block. After a while of doing this, Hwoarang was slowing down again, and Raven launched a kick towards his head. Smirking, Hwoarang put up a block of his own, but it made way for a gasp as only tenths of a second later. It took about as long to get his head around that he was in fact airborne, and that Raven's swipe soon had sent him on his back on the ground. His opponent remained where he was, snorting mockingly at him. "Weakling."

Hwoarang gritted his teeth, seething with anger as he jumped to his feet again. A weakling? No one had called him that before, and he wasn't about to start letting anyone getting away with something like that. He clenched his fists as he hissed at the older man. "You will pay for that, asshole."

The Korean went on to try several of his new secret moves. He had intended to save them all for the tournament itself, but the stakes had just gotten too high. From every kick he managed to connect, he derived extreme satisfaction, even though it appeared that the impact in most cases had been minimal. Raven was still employing his defensive strategy, even though Hwoarang was sufficiently successful to have been scoring points, had it been a tournament match. Suddenly, Raven vanished. Just as Hwoarang's jaw started to drop and his eyes to widen in surprise, he felt his back erupt in pain. As he fell head first on the ground, he heard the other fighter mock him once again. "It's useless to resist."

Hwoarang struggled to get up with a roll away from his opponent, but the pain in his back stung him, upsetting his balance and causing him to fall over onto his side. Humiliated, he stumbled to his feet with a scowl that, if looks could kill, promptly would have been named 'Jack the Ripper'. His entire body language spoke of just one thing: A strong desire to shred his opponent into tiny little pieces.

The other fighter shook his head slowly. With a hand gesture implicating a yawn, he shrugged. "Kid, I'm tired of this. You're not good enough. Go home."

Hwoarang was furious. "This isn't over yet." The redhead attacked again, but this time it only took two seconds for Raven's punch to hit his cheek with great momentum. The Korean fell backwards, and immediately upon him landing on the ground, the blade of a knife shone over Hwoarang's face. A moment later, it rested firmly against his throat.

With a strong glare, Raven spoke insistently. "When I say it's over, it's over. I gave you plenty of chances." Then, he retracted his knife and started walking away.

It was hard to get his mind around the situation. Who the hell was that guy? Not even Jin had ever floored him with such a frequency. Hwoarang prayed strongly that he'd meet the guy in a dark back alley. Preferably late at night, when the Korean would be together with his friends. That wouldn't restore much pride, but it was not pride he sought. He wanted revenge. He wanted to see that fucker bleed.

Getting to his feet, Hwoarang called after him in the most defiant voice he could muster. "We'll meet again, you know."

With a glance over his shoulder, the black fighter's deep voice retorted. "Yes. I'll see you in Hell."

And he was gone.