xxxv. Fortune Bares Her Back

The shuffling of clothes caused his eyes to reflexively look to his peripheral, doing that which his body refused to. He bit down onto his tongue, stopping himself from cursing outright. He could only thank whatever god looked down upon him now that he couldn’t see the reflection of what was happening in the driver’s side of the car he now sat in through the window he had turned towards.

But, just because he didn’t banish all the world to an eternal, never-ending fiery pit with obscenities doesn't mean he could hold back his voice any longer. Which was quite laughable, considering the lifetime he felt he had endured was in reality a mere minute or so.

“I don’t know whether to feel honored or insulted about this.” He let out a deep sigh, the origins of which came from somewhere deeper than his stomach.

“I told you to go on ahead.” You shot back, groaning in the driver’s side of your car as you shimmied the waistline of your pants all the way up to your hips.

You had told him that. After all, why would he want to be in the car with you while you got dressed for the events which were now set into motion? Though, technically, you weren't exactly baring it all right then and there. The long, white dress you wore for the Graduation party looked like a sleeveless shirt when tucked into a pair of jeans – the reason you chose it over everything else in your wardrobe this morning.

And now, since you certainly weren’t going to run around the forest legs bare for Nature to scar and mar at her will, you drove up here with B-bomb, who happened to be with you at the time of the power outage and also happened to be your "buddy" for today's events with the hunters, as close to the scene of the crime as you could, and commenced what you had planned on doing since days prior: changing into comfortable clothes.

And you told him that.

You told B-bomb that if he wanted to avoid having you flash your underwear at him, he should get out of the car and go on ahead. Being embarrassed was something you should have done. Being embarrassed was also something you didn’t have time for.

B-bomb wrung his neck with his hands, giving them something to do, still facing away from you, “And I told you everyone else would skin me alive if something were to happen to you.”

You zipped up the fly of your pants and popped the bronze button into place, leaning back to grab your jacket from the backseat of the car, “You’re over-exaggerating.”

He felt your arm bump into him as you pulled your jacket into your lap, yet still, he refused to let himself turn around, “I really don’t think I am.”

With your car keys in one hand and your jacket in the other, you sat still for a moment, watching his back. Not because there was something there to watch. Not because you wanted to mess with his patience even more than you were already. Simply because he was and would always be the perfect gentleman. And you couldn’t help but marvel at this fact for a few seconds before finally calling out to him, putting an end to the long wait he had endured, “Come on, Minhyuk. Let’s go.”

With a swift pat on his shoulder, you got out of your car, gesturing him to do the same. He turned to you, at long last, just as he felt your fingers slip from his arm, only catching the sight of your own back exiting the driver’s side.

And he watched as you rounded the front of the car, using the same hand you had used to tap his shoulder to rap against the hood of the car, calling him out of his short reverie. And just as you marveled at his bountiful endurance and unending patience, he did the same.

Right now, as you leaned down in front of the window, giving him one of your award winning smiles, he asked himself how’d he last the night alone with you – hunters be damned.

For this reason, he was grateful the hunter’s had chosen the precise moment in which he was going to ask you to dance to appear, the black out occurring right as your fingertips slipped into his own.

“Over-exaggerating?” He mumbled as he made his way out of the car, joining you in your trek into the forest.

Perhaps he was.

But, if something did happen to you, if all the ifs in the world seemingly came crashing down around him, he would sooner skin himself before anyone else could even begin to grab a knife to do it themselves.

“There’s a hell of a lot of them.” Taeil perchanced a glance around where the three of them stood, the odds seeming to weight quite a bit out of their favor.

“There are.” Jaehyo nodded, remaining as nonchalant as always at his side.

“Any ideas?” Hoya asked for the sake of asking, because really, at this point, it was a bit too late to come up with any fool-proof plan that would be able to tackle the pseudo circle of fifteen or so hunters that had surrounded them in the clearing they stood back to back in the middle of.

“Not particularly.” Jaehyo shrugged, his tone of voice not changing in the least.

Taeil looked over his shoulder, attempting to judge the expression Hoya had on his face at the current point in time. The three of them – Hoya, Jaehyo, and Taeil himself, had been teamed up on purpose for this specific occasion. Taeil wasn’t the strongest of the bunch and Jaehyo, while he was as clever and as swift as a fox, was sufficiently lacking in the “brute strength” department. So, Zico and Dongwoo saw fit to assign them their own, personal bodyguard. They deemed the immovable wall that was Hoya as being the only one up to the task. Thus, the three were where they were now.

Fifteen legit hunters versus three bonified werewolves.

Thus, understandably, Taeil wasn’t exactly looking forward to taking on such a disadvantageous venture, “You think they’ll listen to reason?”

Jaehyo, oblivious, or rather choosing not to think about numbers, his eyes narrowing on the hunter just in front of him with spiky black hair and an arrogant expression he couldn’t wait to make cave in on itself, pursed his lips as he said for the second time, “Not particularly.”

“Well,” Hoya extended his arms, interlocking hand with hand, “I’m done being patient anyway.” And, as soon as the last syllable of his statement left his lips, he cracked his fingers, and a bullet went whizzing past his face, planting itself into a defenseless tree behind him; Taeil having moved just in time to avoid it. “And apparently,” Hoya couldn’t help but laugh, his own target now the blonde haired male who attempted to take him down with a single shot, “so are they.”

He never did like being underestimated, no matter the odds that presented themselves. He never did like having to rip through his favorite clothes – quite possibly the only semi-formal wear he had in his closet – because of an antsy opponent. But, today, he thought he’d make an exception, seeing as how “patience” seemed to be the virtue that tonight's proceedings lacked the most.

As the sound of ripping flesh filled the air and a chocolate brown furred blur went bounding from his side, Jaehyo rolled his eyes dramatically, “Really, now? You’re pulling out the big guns rather early, aren’t you, Hoya?”

No sooner had he finished his sentence then did a blur of smaller size and maroon color spring forth from his left. While nothing tonight had served to surprise him – excluding the fact that Sungyeol hounded him at the Graduation party, following him this way and that, without a single explanation of why – Taeil’s decision which mirrored Hoya’s own did.

But, Jaehyo was rather fond of his clothes.

So, as the transformed figures of Taeil and Hoya ravaged through the hunters, knocking them down like dominos set up beforehand, Jaehyo bounded forth towards that spiky haired, not-so-arrogant looking anymore, hunter.

The fight between the two lasted a total of three seconds.

Jaehyo made the first and last move, bashing said hunter's irritatingly cocky face against the trunk of a tree.

A punch here and a kick there. Another hunter sent flying this way, flying that. The fight was seemingly endless, body upon body upon body that flung onto the ground in defeat at the hands of Zico and Dongwoo was immediately replaced by another that came squeezing through the woodwork, appearing from between the trees as though spawning infinitely. Fortune, however, aided them, supplying them with what seemed to be boundless luck; the two not garnering a single scratch from the encounter thus far.

As for how lucky they felt in reality, their personal notions ranged far from "fortunate."

Zico, successfully dodging a hunter's lunge before tossing him into his buddy who aimed a gun straight at his head, was beginning to count in his head. To calculate all the numbers. To go over each and every equation, taking into consideration each and every dividend that remained. Listing off all the endless possibilities unaccounted for, the battle they now fought feeling just as endless, if not more so.

They were handling the brunt of the hunter's forces, to be sure. Afterall, hunters from all over the world seemingly gathered together in Springfield just for this one fight on this one night. From the language they were speaking, Dongwoo was able to ascertain exactly where they came from: France. French hunters mixed with German hunters whose words Dongwoo failed to relate only due to the vulgar, hateful, cursing nature of them. Mixed with American hunters whose curses were much more recognizable. All mixed with a few Chinese hunters who donned dangerous weaponry different from the guns of their European fellows: swords, lances, throwing knives, and, the most dangerous of all, martial arts.

Thankfully, such hunters were few and far between. Regretfully, they weren't helping much when it came to keeping up the pace and retaining stamina in case the worst came to pass: in which they were, as time was working against them, eventually surrounded on all sides.

Besides that, keeping up the deal they had made before with Sunggyu, before his disappearance, was making it ten times more difficult. It was a promise that Zico regretted ever making, his frustrations coming out as infuriated yells as he recoiled back at each swipe the sword held by a young, skilled hunter made at him, "I want to rip their throats out with my bare hands!"

It was a morbid thought to be sure. It was something that usually only came to him before he had learned to control his transformations using the power of pure self-will: the most powerful medicine with which to soothe his symptoms, according to Sunggyu. It was something that his fingers itched more and more to do each time he watched that young hunter with the long sword sneer at him, delighted at the thought of seeing his blood splash like fresh paint on the trees around them.

"Try it and you'll be the one struggling to breathe." Dongwoo threatened him, landing a crippling blow to a hunter's gut that sent him falling over slowly, harmlessly, the one rule they were to follow being to not take life. To not kill a single hunter which now sought out to end their own lives. And, for the first sixty or so, it seemed plausible. It seemed doable.

Mercy was easy to grant in the beginning. Mercy was something both Zico, strongly, and Dongwoo, to a lesser degree, were running out of.

Thankfully, or again, rather regrettably, an object deserving of the least amount of it showed up then, twisting a lock of her brown hair inbetween her fingers, red tinted lips curled upwards in the highest degree of amusement, “Aren’t you two supposed to be, I don’t know.” She pondered her words for a moment, all fighting stopping due to her presence, the other hunters knowing exactly where they stood when it came to their ranking in Springfield territory in comparison with her own, “What’s the term? Divide and conquer?”

And as the most glorious smile quirked against Zico's lips, his twitching fingers finding solace in the mere imagination of what it would feel like to snack her pretty ivory neck in two, Dongwoo couldn't help but fear that the worst was already upon them.

Here and now.

As Hyosung showed herself, Fortune could not help but side herself with the female's poisonous charms, “Unless you're interested in doing something much, much, much more fun?”

“And this is where you found it?”

B-bomb leapt down from his perch in the trees above you, landing like a cat with infinite lives.

“Yeah,” you turned back, standing up slowly as you held out your open palm to him, “right here.”

There, in your hand, was a piece of long electrical cable. Most likely the same wire that had, after being sectioned off from an electrical line, caused the power outage at the Mayor’s house to occur in the first place. The place the two of you were now a mile off of, somewhere deep within the brush of the forest.

B-bomb reached forward, taking it between his fingers, inspecting it as though it purposed to him some hidden mystery that he was itching to solve, “It’s weird though.”

You studied his face, attempting to catch on to what he was thinking, “What’s weird?”

He cocked his head to the left, twisting it, bending it, contemplating the unforeseen explanation behind its appearance here of all places, “Do you think a hunter would be able to leap tens of feet up into the air, snap this wire free, and then proceed to drag it all the way out here?”

“Ladders exist.” You said in jest, only to take it back immediately when he gave you that judging look of his, “I’m joking.” Stepping forward, you narrowed your eyes at the electrical wire, as though it would reveal itself to be a unicorn or some other mystical, awe-inspiring being if you stared long enough, “But, if a hunter didn’t do it, who did?”

“Catching ourselves off guard is not something either of our packs would chose to do.” B-bomb began, making conclusions as he went along, making it all up to fit the puzzle he was solving in his head, something he was undeniably adept at, “It puts us at a disadvantage if we don’t all know about it before hand.” He lifted his other hand, winding the cable into a tight circle, “And I don't think we were the only ones kept out of the loop if it was one of us who cut it, seeing as the first thing I heard Myungsoo say when the lights went out was, “What the hell?” So, well, that rules us out.”

“Which means.” You stopped, saying his suspicions out loud seemingly as forbidden as naming a certain boy wonder's arch nemesis.

“Yeah.” He nodded, storing the wire into his jacket pocket for now, “Yeah, I think so.”

“But,” you entertained the idea he alluded to, the notion you concluded at the end of this; this investigation in which Minhyuk Holmes was, though as brilliant as always, much more serious than usual. And, as it slowly became the only possible deduction, the only, single word rolling off of your tongue now was, “How?”

He shook his head, the world seemingly making as much sense as it hadn’t already, “I have no ing idea.”

U-kwon whipped his head to the left, freeing his forehead from the sticky pieces of hair that was his fringe. He was convinced he had sweat out all the water in his body and more by now;overestimation at its finest. Right now, however, it didn’t seem as such. It seemed like a legitimate assumption. And it was the only one he could make, what with the whirlwind-like nature his thoughts were taking. Had been taking. Would be taking.

All because of the heavy weight he now carried on his back, running towards who knows where, knowing exactly what it was he was running from.

He had lost them awhile back, the eight hunters that had surrounded himself and Jiyeon: B-bomb’s precious older sister. Jiyeon: P.O’s precious mate. Jiyeon: the precious parcel whose arms were now draped over his shoulders, his fingertips practically burying themselves into her thighs, his legs carrying the two of them as fast as he could manage.

Which wasn’t as fast as he’d like.

Which caused him to repeat the one word he had said at least a hundred times in the last ten minutes.

“,” he bunny hopped just once, readjusting Jiyeon’s limp body on his back, turning behind himself before letting his eyes scan behind him, her black hair which wildly flew this way and that in the summer night breeze not aiding his attempt to do so.

Luckily for both him and her, there wasn’t a single hunter to be found.

He breathed out, releasing a sigh he hadn’t known he had been holding. Feeling relief swell up within him despite the wet feeling that spread across the expanse of his back with each passing minute.

He descended onto his knees by a nearby tree, laying her carefully down by his side and propping her up against the trunk. He placed his fore and middle finger on her neck, checking for a pulse. Hoping he’d feel it. Wishing and wishing and wishing he was calm enough to simply hear it over the buzzing that rang in his ears at the sight of her now: bleeding out, three bullets lodging themselves in her body. Right above her knee, her left shoulder, her hip, all points of impact that smelt so strongly of burning flesh he winced as he inspected her wounds for the first time. Because right after she got them, he hadn’t exactly had time to sit down and take a look at them.

And now, he paused, drawing in a breath, feeling as though his own heart would stop when he couldn’t feel it. When he couldn’t feel the resilient beating of her heart beneath his fingertips. He could have died from shock right then and there. He could have died from the overwhelming feeling of relief that washed over him, weighing heavy on his shoulders like the current flowing down from a waterfall, when he felt it.

When he heard it.

When he saw it.

Her heartbeat. The slight cough that escaped . The sudden movement of her chest up and down, as though she had awoken from a bad dream.

He fell back onto his ankles, watching as her eyes slowly opened one by one, as her breath evened out, half-lidded brown eyes turning to him slowly. And all he could manage was an embittered, yet thankful, “I hate you immensely right now. I really hope you realize that.”

Not only was she alive to hear his words, she also had the ability to speak as she usually did, to smile as she usually did, despite everything, despite the blood that failed to clot in her limbs, and reply as she usually would, “The feeling’s mutual.”

He recoiled back at the very sight of her, at the very smell of her, all because of his own dumb mistake. All because of him, two people could have been put into mourning. Two people still could.

He wretched his hands through his locks, tugging and twisting as he felt himself on the utter brink of tragedy, “How am I supposed to explain this to P.O, huh? And then there’s B-bomb. Oh, . How am I going to tell this to B-bomb?” And in his despair, he wanted to the blame onto anyone but himself. Even if it was the victim, the heroine of his life moments ago, herself. The weight of a life was something too heavy for him to bear on his own. With anger filled eyes, he set his gaze upon her, scowling as he practically yelled at her, “How am I supposed to do that, Jiyeon? How?”

But, she was having none of it. She was just as blunt as she always was and always will be, “You’re problem. Not mine.”

He stood up, turning away from her to hide his expression from her, to hide the situation from his eyes, as though that would somehow lighten the load of it all, “You had no ing business jumping in front of me like that. None.”

Jiyeon let her eyes trace down her body, her vision hazing with each wounded area that greeted her, the thick smell of blood filling her lungs, “The pack comes before the individual.”

She looked to him now, the frame of his back all she could see. Of that back that carried her here, of that back she was supposed to back up, of that back that more than two would mourn for should it end up lying somewhere in a ditch after being shot just earlier by the eight hunters that fall down upon them as though plunging forth from the sky itself. Motionless. Lifeless. Dead. Both he and her were none of those adjectives right now, something she couldn’t have been more thankful for. Something she didn’t understand his frustration towards, a laugh leaving her in face of the pain that threatened to shoot through her right after.

In face of the pain that came through with its threats, she said through a smile, “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, remaining turned away from her, “Don’t give me that pack mentality crap. That doesn’t make me more important than you.”

He thought about the look of devastation he’d see on P.O’s face. P.O who, even if he hadn’t publicly declared it yet, adored Jiyeon as much as a newlywed husband. P.O, who had found his partner first. P.O, who stood the chance of losing her first. And then there was B-bomb. U-kwon couldn’t even begin to reconcile all of his misgivings in the face of the desolation he’d bring upon the lush oasis that was their current happiness should Jiyeon die all because of him. All for what? He no longer cursed their situation as much as he cursed himself, “.”

She leaned forward, trying to sneak a peek at his expression, “You crying for me?”

“Hell no,” he barked at her, blinking away the bitter liquid that had gathered near the brim of his eyelids.

Because she had wormed her way into his world. Because she was as much a part of Zico’s pack as he was. Because P.O and B-bomb wouldn’t be the only ones mourning her death. Because he cared about her too. And even if it weren’t her, even if it were anyone else, he’d be crying while cradling his legs on the floor like a baby. All it took was her being on the brink of death to put it all into perspective.

She shook her head, laughing to herself at his absurdity. At the finalities he believed this situation brought to an apex. When, as was per her personality, she couldn’t help but view the future in an optimistic light.

“Let’s make a deal.” She couldn’t help but smile as she saw his fidgety shoulders and his restless hands still, “If I make it out of this alive, you’re on kitchen duty with me for three months. Okay?”

“Hell no.” He managed a sarcastic laugh at himself, at the entire situation, at the promise she was attempting to make him agree to, “I at cooking.”

She nodded her head, knowing that already, “I’ll teach you.”

He felt those tears push against his eyes again, “You , too.”

And she would have replied by revealing to him a truth he hadn’t known if it weren’t for the sounds of feet crunching down on Nature’s mattress of green right behind them.

The hunters had caught up.

And all U-kwon could do as he spun around, immediately going to her side and hoisting her up again, was curse the world for its misgivings and Fortune for her sick sense of humor, “ .”

“It’s not working.”

“First question,” Ricky leaned forward in his seat, looking over Niel’s shoulder, peering at the driver’s side of the car, “Is it on?”

Niel didn’t have the patience to mince words. Shooting Ricky a glare whose intensity could rival a burning bonfire, he gestured to the dashboard with an open palm, answering Ricky’s question without saying a single sentence. The car was, indeed, on.

“Second question,” Ricky continued on undeterred from whatever point he was trying to make by playing the unwanted role of “Mr. Sarcasm” in a situation that required none, “Do you try turning it off and then on again?”

“Not funny, Ricky.” Minah spoke up from beside him, effectively shutting him up with just those three words alone.

Admittedly, he was more than just a little bit antsy being stuck in the back seat of Niel’s mother’s car with Minah. After the power outage, he felt a cold, thin hand grab onto him and tell him to take Minah to away. The Mayor’s hand, right after she announced to the entire party that, “For the safety of yourselves and others, please promptly make your way back home. I apologize for how this night has turned out and I hope that we may, once order is restored here, make up for this unfortunate turn of events. Congratulations again, graduates. I wish you all the luck in the world.”

So, you can bet anything that Ricky immediately went looking for her, flashing his phone’s screen in the darkness as others did in order to find their loved ones. And, he found her. He found her staring off into the distance like a dodo. When he told her she had to leave, she actually refused at first. She said, in her exact, annoyingly irritating to Ricky’s ears, words, “Sungjong told me to stay here. You should as well.”

Now she was taking advice from your friends? From the younger boy who cursed her to all hells across all religions on more than one occasion. Really? Was she that trusting? Were the two of them so seemingly close that she had a reason to overlook all of his past transgressions? And, if so, why could she not do it with him, with Ricky, as well?

It wasn’t fair, that’s what Ricky thought.

It wasn’t fair, that’s what Ricky thought regarding the seating arrangement of him beside Minah and Yura in the passenger side beside Niel.

It wasn’t fair, because he didn’t even want to look at Minah, let alone talk to her, for the rest of the night.

Thus, he was a child throwing a tantrum at the fact that for the second time today, Niel’s mother’s car had stalled on them, leaving them stranded, surrounded by road and trees on all side, not another car in sight. It didn’t help that the evening fog had begun to slip in, casting an ambience most undesirable by anyone with a disinclination to the genre that is horror.

“It’s damn spooky out here at night.” Minah spoke to no one in particular. In fact, she was most likely talking to herself. Yet, Ricky felt the need, the most irritating urge, to reply with the snarkiest response he could muster.

“You’re only noticing just now?”

“Whether you’re in a nitpicking mood or not,” Yura turned in her seat, giving him the look a mother would give to her five-year-old who was crying over not being able to have the new fangled toy he spotted at a department store, “I would like to remind you of something I’m sure you know already: now is not the time for cynicism.”

Ricky rolled his eyes dramatically, an act that almost prompted Yura to reach back and smack him outright. Seeing as he was, without a doubt, the odd one out of the three, he volunteered himself to do something no one asked him to do. That no one wanted him to do, his words driven purely by his annoyance with the entire situation. With the ignorance he held regarding the entire situation.

“I’ll get out and check out what’s wrong under the hood.” Ricky unbuckled himself from the back seat, moving his hand to grasp onto the handle of the door. He was stalled in doing so, however, as Minah reached out, her fingers gripping down onto the lapel of his jacket to stop him.

“What? No.” Minah urged him, not liking his sudden impromptu behavior, “Ricky.”

And, before Ricky could say something utterly idiotic, which he was prone to do, Niel interjected – as he was also prone to do.

“No.” Niel stared forward, fingers jingling the car keys which hung in their socket, “No, you’re not.”

And, with one more twist, the car hummed to life.

Niel breathed out, thanking Fortune for coming through for him, before he assured Ricky once more with a rather confident sounding, “I got it. So, sit down.”

And he did. Niel knew exactly what he was doing. He had been driving his mother’s car for over a year now. He had never gotten into an accident. He had never even managed to cause a dent to form on any inch of said vehicle. He was a safe, patient driver who, in that moment, was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. All four of them, Niel, Yura, Ricky, and Minah, were merely too close to the thick of the situation with which they couldn’t even begin to imagine an inkling regarding.

As Niel precariously drove forward, not wanting to push the car harder than he should, he failed to see the rush akin to a stampede that came shooting out from the left, cutting through the trees of the forest like merciless axes.

Yura was the first to react, her hand going out to stop him as she yelled at the top of her lungs, with the highest pitch she could muster, “Niel, watch out!” Ricky was the second, his seatbelt safely on again causing him to be able to reach to his right, extending his hand in front of Minah so as to shield her head from impacting with the back of Yura’s car seat. Niel was the third to react, stomping down onto the brake of the car with such urgency that the smell of rubber soon filled the air right after.

Right after they saw it: exactly what the herd that ran in front of them was.

Large dogs, running in what seemed to be arrowhead formation. Their legs galloping, clawing at the ground with a purpose as they pushed on. Snapping at each other as though conducting normal speech, their small conversations failing to slow them as they followed the head of the arrow, a burly brown furred canine. A sight that none of the four had ever witnessed before. A sight that would best be termed “otherworldly” to the highest degree.

It was only when a few minutes had passed, the stampede far gone, that Yura spoke up, reacting first once more, “What in the world is going on?”

And Ricky reacted second, the apt time for cynicism appearing to be now more than ever, “This is Springfield. The world’s rules don’t apply here.”