Chapter 15: Ball and Chain

Around a year and a half ago, Han was in an accident during one of his weekly Dog Fight TTs. 

It happened back in a period he describes as his “prime.” Disgusting pride swelling the crooked smile on his face, Han told the tale of the evening his 107 day winning streak was broken. Seconds after toppling the beefy, almost seeming to sizzle like bacon under the high-hanging fluorescent lights — Han described while his lips — man who was foolish enough to sign up with the hopes of out-witting him, the overconfident Han took a ball and chain to the side of his head.

One of the weapons given to the man who stood above his bleeding cranium, breathing heavily like a hog forced to run a marathon, in order to tip the scales. Han couldn’t object to a bending of the usual hand-to-hand rule — more like a verbal code of honor more than anything. Complaints were the last thing he made when the shoddy “Veterinarian,” the title aptly given to the Dog Fight’s leading medical technician, declared him deaf in one ear. 

“Even my laughter feels far away.”

Jongdae remembers Han’s words now for no reason in particular. 

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Jongdae hadn’t smiled for over two weeks. An odd thing to keep count of, but it didn’t give him pride like Han’s previous winning streak turned sour. Nor could he describe the feeling of the stranger whose body he now straddled, fingers wound tightly around well-trained muscle, while managing a laugh.

Jongdae was easily managing the way the blond fought with a flurry of feet, blunt nails digging down and ripping through his already tattered clothing. He thought briefly about what scented oils he’d be lathered up with tomorrow. Today was rosemary. It tickled at his nose uncomfortably as he squeezed harder around the frail trachea beneath his fingers. 

Lavender. Pumpkin spice. Vanilla.

The latter of which was well-missed after he was rinsed down last month. He figured it must be a rare scent. He could sometimes smell it wafting towards him when Yeol would pass by his cage on the way back from the usual TTD. Did they save it for him?

It seemed even those old women picked favorites.

The buzzing of the one-hour timer dragged Jongdae out of his sweet smelling reverie. He was almost annoyed by the interruption before remembering to let the man beneath him breathe. Not waiting to be dragged out, looking forward to a bath more than anything, he stood up and walked towards the slowly opening bars to his left. His "masters" didn't chain him up anymore.

He thought himself special because of this.

Even Han couldn’t avoid the ball and chain.

Then again, Han stopped talking to him since a few days ago. Yeol never talked, so there was nothing new there. Oddly enough, Jongdae was actually glad the two couldn’t bring themselves to say a word. He didn’t want to instinctively complain in response. Han always smelled like a hint of Pumpkin spice.

Was he the only one getting jipped on the good scents?

“Hey.”

The first word Han spoke in weeks — though that’s at least what it felt like. Jongdae stopped keeping count of days when he started keeping count of his happiness. Contentment was, in comparison, easy, afterall.

“Hey.” 

Jongdae said back, chomping down into the day’s rations. They skimped on white bread today, choosing instead the healthier choice of wheat. The only indication was the color. Then again, it could have been mold. It all tasted the same at this point. 

“You’re still 0 for 40.” 

Jongdae had been in 40 Dog Fights and hadn’t managed to notch a single kill on his non-existent belt. Han sounded like he was bragging. He wouldn’t say it then, but Hun had been the 36th person Han killed. And each one was akin to some variety of meat — bacon being, of course, his favorite. 

“Woohoo.” Jongdae cheered, waving a drooping finger through the air in a circle. 

“They’re putting you in a TTD tomorrow.” 

The world should’ve stopped for Jongdae. He should’ve been shouting out in protest like a child going to his first day of kindergarten. He should’ve felt a blow of both nervousness and excitement like a ball and chain slamming against his ear. Instead, he kept eating.

“Says who?”

“Says the goose-pimpled food-giver.”

“He’s got a big mouth.”

“And he’s always spouting the truth.”

“Why now?”

“Because you’re getting boring?” Han theorized, a scoff huffing out from his cracked lips, “Like I said: 0 for 40.”

“Your compliments to me aside, that’s not what I mean.” Jongdae twisted at the browning orange between his fingers, citrus flying into his unblinking eyes, “Why are you telling me this now?”

Hadn’t Han already given up on him? On their plan to escape, together. Without Hun. With Yeol, if he wanted to come along. Their pseudo-pack was broken after Hun’s death. All assumptions made on Jongdae’s part.

“You don’t know, Chen?” Han gasped, knees shuffling him towards the rusted, iron bar barrier between himself and “Chen,” “You’ve really got to think bigger here.”

Boasting again, Jongdae tuned out the following retelling of the evening Han’s 107 day winning streak was broken. It seemed the ball and chain had hit him much harder than anyone thought.

It was the same ol’ same ol’. Jongdae had come close to murder enough times to not fear pushing the boundary one last time. The idea of killing didn’t cause him to doubt himself. More so the idea of ending another’s life. Obviously, he couldn’t lay down and give himself up. It bothered him, but not to a point of self-extinction. 

He hadn’t gotten that far yet.

Axe settled in a relaxed palm, he watched the mutilated body before him with those same unblinking eyes as the scent of iron filled his lungs. Chest moving up and down. His opponent’s chest was still moving up and down, despite the loss of an ear chopped clean off. Who told the poor man to bring a weapon to a Dog Fight? Especially when Cerberus was the jealous type.

And what a nice axe it was.

Light enough to carry with the slightest of ease. Slim enough to cut the air so quickly even those minuscule molecules would cry out in pain. Sharp enough to cut through any chain.

Impulsivity overcoming him, he lost the will to do what needed doing. 0 for 41 too good a streak to break. One among many sentiments that failed to reach the crowd around him. For once, he wasn’t “boring.” But, unfortunately for his old and new fans, he believed in the proverb “An Ear for An Ear.” 

He was done here.

But the people wanted more. Slice and dice until there’s nothing left. Reach into that mangled body right before it shudders its last spasm of life. Feel its heart beat between your peeling fingertips. The small, fragile, sticky thing. Break it. Break all of it.

The entire operation came crumbling down that very instant. Sirens sounded. Dust and dirt fell from the shaking ceiling, threatening to collapse any second. People screamed as they ran. A few others remained, rattling at the fences between them and Cerberus. More. More. More. Break it all until there’s nothing left. 

Willing to settle on anything at this point, Jongdae didn’t second-guess himself as that barred door to his left opened again, his “masters” nowhere to be found. Instead, there was Hun.

Smiling.

Jongdae stopped counting.

A/N: Surprise?