Chapter 4: Leveling the Playing Field

Lights swung back and forth above them, flickering on and off. Grumbles and murmurs passed through the crowd as it moved against each other, not a one person heading in the same direction. Makeshift shops built from rotting wood lined the tiny street. The smell of decaying pig meat had Jongdae coughing as they passed a vender who boasted loudly that it was fresh off the surface. A hand gestured in front of him to keep him moving. 

"This way."

Her heavy sigh was drowned out by the voices that surrounded them. Low ceilings and cramped buildings made up the underground city they now traversed through. He struggled to keep up with her pace; it was as if she had passed through this crowd more than just a handful of five or so years. Despite his wound he managed to hide his limp — though he doubted anyone would give it a second glance.

The smell that hung in the air was putrid. Never had he smelt something so bad. As long as he kept his balance and held his breath, Jongdae would survive. He was convinced of this even as he bumped into a girl whose frame put her in his same age range.

And yet her lips were cracked, large circles hollowing out emotionless eyes.

She didn't utter a word of regret for their collision as she continued to trot away, plagued with a limp of her own.

Light gray. Dark gray. Brownish gray. Everything had the same gray tone to it except for the candle light that flickered above the stalls on either side of him. 

Even the woman whom he'd just locked gazes with had a grayish tint to her skin. No rosy cheeks. No plump, pink, glossy lips. Pale. Blue. Almost purple. Like the living dead.

As he persevered through the crowd, he almost lost sight of his "Savior," since "Psycho " was a bit too rude even for him, on more than a handful of occasions. But there was something succinctly different about her. Her dewy skin tone, more vibrant with each glance she threw over her shoulder. Life swirled in her eyes, fiery and bright. Whether in silence or in anything but, her voice pierced through the air, ushering him forward.

"Keep up."Jongdae pulled his hood further over his head as he sped up, limping like he's sure no man's limped before. According to his Savior, his white clothes would get him killed on the spot — thus the long brown cloak he now donned. "We're almost there." He heard her voice from somewhere in front of him, whispering as though it were a secret worth keeping. 

A snap caught Jongdae's attention; a hard smack echoed against his eardrums. Turning to the noise instinctively, he caught sight of a group of men to his left. They were gathered down an alleyway that screamed "danger." 

It wasn't their rough, burly nature that had him walking towards them bravely, stride firm and sure. It was their words. Twisting like knives in his gut. Stabbing like needles in his spine.

"Mangy mutt! Do what you were born to!" One of the men, bald and short in stature, slammed his fist into his victim's temple, an ear-splitting crack resounding as bone crashed against the ground.

"Tired?" another man, tall and sickly, questioned with a jeer. "I thought your kind never got tired!" He reeled back a swift kick, pounding the black-clothed man. It was undoubtedly a man.

"I bet they don't even eat!" one of average height proclaimed. Laughed as his heel pressed down onto the recipient of his curses. Grinding. Cracking. His voice cackling. "Be thankful we're even treating you to a happy helping of dirt, damned stray!"

The last man, muscles rippling, reached down, dragging the battered man off the ground. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Motionless, the back of the man dangled midair. Clothes ripped and torn. Body bloodied and bruised. And that's when he caught sight of it, peeking from atop a wrinkled collar. That silver gleam revealed beneath shredded skin.

A shiver ran down Jongdae's spine. Electricity buzzed against his ears. His eyes were blind to the shining object the muscular man pulled from his waist. His pace quickened. Nerves weeping out, strength he didn't think he had surged through him. Because that man, beaten and broken, was the same as him.

He instantly had a plank of wood pressed up against the tall, lanky man's throat, suffocating him with each twist backwards of his body. The nameless man clawed at Jongdae's arms. Kicking up a storm. Writhing in his grip.

"Hey!"

His Savior arrived in the nick of time. She landed a punch straight onto the short, bald man's gaping face. When he attempted to get up, she kicked him square in the jaw, knocking him out like she'd been trained to do nothing else.

"I told you to stay behind me!"

Jongdae would have answered her had he not been punched in the gut by the man with the knife. Falling to the ground, he palmed at his stomach. She quickly defended him, kicking in a swooping circle as the knife swung through the air. Its wielder went tumbling backwards, landing hard against the ground. She turned towards the battered young man Jongdae had jumped in to save. 

Eyes drawn to his neck, exposed for all to see, like a moth to a flame, she whispered out yet another noun Jongdae wasn't acquainted with. That he'd grow more than familiar with in the future. "Black Coat." 

The man of average height and below average bravery took advantage of the opening. As his fist almost reached her, he suddenly fell face first, tripping over a pair of legs. His knuckles skimmed harmlessly across her left cheek, and he effectively knocked himself out. Alarmed by the contact, she turned in surprise.

Jongdae laughed as he lifted himself up, untangling his legs from the man's. He grinned widely. "Now you owe me two."

A breeze whistled through the cracks of the vacant home Jongdae sat in; the wooden chair beneath him creaked in protest to his imposition. He eyed the man he'd been "Savior" to earlier, the dim light above them just enough to catch his face. His features. Round. Full. Tan and pink. 

Unlike the men who'd been attacking him earlier. Unlike all others Jongdae had stumbled upon so far. He didn't look like he'd given up. Far from it.

"So, what's your name, anyway?" Jongdae asked, flipping his hood back to reveal fluffy, auburn hair.

"Minseok," the male answered, eyes trained on the plumes of gold he hadn't seen before now.

"Jongdae," Jongdae responded, hand extending outwards, only to retract back again. Minseok had coughed suddenly, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. Turning his gaze towards the bandages wrapped securely around Minseok's neck, Jongdae couldn't help himself. "I know we just met and all, and this may be rushing into things, but I really just can't stop wondering and wondering it to the point where I just have to get it out. So I hope you don't mind it when I ask: what does 'Orthrus' mean?"

Minseok opened his mouth, more than ready and willing to let loose upon Jongdae's ears the answer to the mystery he's never wanted to know so much. Only to stop. Only to stop because something else drew his interest. His Adam's apple bobbed hard and tight against fresh white gauze as he mumbled out a resigned, "Hello."

Jongdae, irritated by the seemingly out-of-nowhere greeting, spun around in his chair. What he found at the end of Minseok's enamored gaze was his Savior. The woman who had injured him, put him into his situation, and was now in the process of getting him out of it. The woman whose identity was still a mystery. A part of him couldn't help but wonder if he shouldn't solve it.

But his mouth was too big, his manner too carefree, to stop himself — for the second time of many to come.

"Now that I think about it, I don't remember ever getting your name."

With marble-like hands smoothing back wild hair, she her cracked lips before reciting, "Fay."

A/N: I've decided to update this regularly from now on, because I can. And I want to. So, it's happening.