Chapter Text
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.” Wolf says, and the White Mamba doesn’t respond at all.
Wolf’s not sure why. The White Mamba’s friends are lying on the ground, bleeding and badly beaten up, and Wolf’s sure most people would respond to that, in some way, shape, or form.
The White Mamba won’t even look him in the eye.
“The fuck?” Wolf says. “You scared now ? Don’t you think it’s a little late to come to your senses now ? You were all tough a couple of days ago; what happened?”
The White Mamba is shivering in fear, and it pisses Wolf off.
“Hey.” Wolf slaps the White Mamba across the face. The White Mamba doesn’t react or respond.
“Oh, come on .” Wolf grabs White Mamba by the chin, tilting his face up so the White Mamba will look at him. “Look at me man, come on. Use those snake eyes of yours.”
The White Mamba didn’t seem to see him.
“God, this loser.” Wolf drops the White Mamba’s chin. “He’s already fucking lost it. Jeez man, if you act like this, it’s just no fun at all.” He punctuates the end of his sentence by elbowing the White Mamba in the face. Again, the White Mamba didn’t react.
Wolf kicks the White Mamba in the stomach, sending him flying across the rooftop. No reaction. He just lays there, unmoving.
“Now that I think about it, you’re pissing me off.” Wolf slips his glasses off his nose. “Did you always get away with it like this? By just trembling in fear with that pretty face of yours? Is that what you’re trying to do?” No response. “Well, I don’t fall for that shit. In fact, I despise bastards who do that. Jared, hold my glasses.”
Jared takes the glasses with a smarmy smile.
“By the looks of it, I don’t think anyone’s ever taught you a proper fucking lesson.” Wolf smiles. “I’ll fucking teach you then.”
Wolf kicks the White Mamba. “How,” Wolf kicks the White Mamba, “dare you,” Wolf kicks him again, “fucking,” and again, “try me.” and again.
“Huh? Well?”
Wolf keeps kicking, over and over again, and the White Mamba doesn’t respond.
“How dare you?” Wolf says again, and keeps kicking over and over again.
He picks the White Mamba up by the collar, and punches him. Over and over again, until blood flies from the White Mamba’s pale face. It lands on Wolf’s mouth, and out of some instinct, Wolf sticks his tongue out and licks his lips.
Wolf keeps punching, over and over again. One punch is particularly strong, and the White Mamba is sent flying backwards into a stack of chairs. No reaction.
“Hey.” Wolf crouches in front of the White Mamba. “What do you think? Have you learned your lesson yet?” The White Mamba doesn’t respond. “Why are you so out of it already? I’m just getting started.”
Wolf stands, and kicks the White Mamba again. Over and over again. The White Mamba won’t respond.
Wolf grabs the White Mamba by the hair, and slaps his face. “Hey. Hello? Hi? White Mamba? Wake up, Eunjang’s White Mamba!” No response. Wolf drops the White Mamba on the floor.
He turns towards Hwangmo, and motions at the White Mamba with his thumb. “Fucker’s totally drenched in blood. You sure he’s the White Mamba? Pass me a ciggy.”
Hwangmo nods and passes him a lighted cigarette. Wolf puts it to his lips.
“Ugh, this is boring as fuck.” Wolf inhales the nicotine smoke, and blows it out. “C’mon, wake up. Don’t make me throw you off the rooftop.” Wolf is content right now, smoking a quality cigarette and just having beat someone up. It’s nice for him, the feeling of blood on his hands and the sensation of smoke in his lungs.
Someone’s leaning against his back, their arms wrapped around Wolf, their chin on his shoulder. They’re murmuring something into Wolf’s ear, hooking their hands under Wolf’s sleeves.
“What the hell?” Wolf says, and then the someone places their knee on Wolf’s back, and yanks his sleeves behind him. They slam Wolf’s face into the ground. Wolf loses his cigarette.
Wolf manages to twist his face back, and what the hell, it’s the White Mamba. Fucker has some bite in him after all. “You son of a-huh?”
The fucker is actually tying his arms behind his back. The White Mamba grabs Wolf by the hair, pulling his head up from the ground so that his chin is perpendicular with the ground.
“You fucking bastard.” Wolf says, angry. So fucking angry.
The White Mamba slams Wolf’s face into the ground.
As his head is pulled up from the ground, his body weighed down by the White Mamba sitting on it, Wolf manages to cough out a threat, his throat full of blood and smoke, but the White Mamba doesn’t seem to hear it. He slams Wolf’s head into the ground again.
Hwangmo tries to stop the White Mamba, but he throws something at Hwangmo and hits his nose dead on. Hwangmo backs off, and Jared is too much of a coward to do anything.
The White Mamba kicks Wolf. He stomps on Wolf’s head, pressing Wolf’s face and nose and mouth into the floor. Then something decidedly not organic is slammed into Wolf’s head, once, twice, and Wolf finally manages to get himself upright.
“Argh, fuck! You crazy bastard!” Wolf kicks the White Mamba in the stomach, and the White Mamba goes flying into a stack of chairs. But the fucker gets up, wobbling on his feet as he approaches, dragging a chair behind him. The screeching noise it makes hurts Wolf’s ears.
Wolf kicks at the White Mamba, but the fucker’s anticipated it, and he swings the chair at the one leg Wolf’s standing on. Wolf is unable to regain his balance, his arms still tied in knots around him, and so he goes crashing to the floor. The White Mamba kicks him once, and Wolf uses the push from the kick to give himself a little distance from the White Mamba, and a little time, enough to get back on his feet.
Wolf spits out a mixture of saliva and blood, and rams into the White Mamba, slamming into him, pushing him to the ground.
Wolf needs a way to get out of this hold. Eyes darting around the rooftop, searching for something that’ll help him out, he sees an exposed nail sticking out of a post in the ground. He purposefully catches his shirt on it, and with an almost physically painful ripping noise, Wolf’s shirt tears, and his arm is free.
He pulls his other arm out of the sleeve trapping it. “Now I see what kinda fucked-up bastard you are. Gotta say, it was fun, but it’s getting on my nerves.”
The White Mamba’s wobbling to his feet again, dragging another chair with him. He swings the chair back, telegraphing his intent to strike Wolf with it.
Wolf grabs it, stops it in its arc towards him. “That’s enough.” Wolf pulls the chair out of the White Mamba’s grip, and tosses it towards the ground behind him. He uses the momentum from that to swing his other arm forward in an uppercut that connects with the White Mamba’s head with a mighty crack. While the White Mamba is reeling from the hit, Wolf kicks him and that marvelous kick connects with the White Mamba’s stomach, doubling him over and sending him staggering backwards.
Wolf grabs the White Mamba by the neck, and holds him there as he punches. He doesn’t try to cut off the White Mamba’s airflow; that’s not the kind of fighter he is. The sole purpose of grasping the White Mamba’s ivory throat is to keep him in one place as Wolf hits him.
Wolf manages to slip in a few words between punches. “How dare you, play your dirty, little tricks on me!” Wolf rarely tires of this stage of the fight, because he likes inflicting pain on others and receiving it in turn. Usually, he gives more pain than he takes, and he figures that’ll be the case in this fight, because he’s intelligent enough to recognize a pattern.
After a while, the White Mamba slips from his grasp, not intentionally, and falls to the floor, his head in his slender hands. Bruises mar his snow-white skin, and blood stains his Eunjang High uniform. Wolf doesn’t feel bad for him, mostly because Wolf doesn’t feel bad for anyone he fights.
“Get up.” Wolf says, and pulls the White Mamba up by the back of his shirt. “I know exactly what kind of bastard you are.” Wolf slams his knee into the White Mamba’s face, and the White Mamba goes flying back once more. There’s a thick cloud of dust, rising from the force of the White Mamba’s impact, and Wolf can’t see the White Mamba, but figures he’s out cold. Pity, because Wolf was having a lot of fun.
But then, suddenly, before Wolf can react, the skinny bastard lunges forward and slams a pot, or trash can, or something vaguely cylindrical into Wolf’s foot. And it fucking hurts . Somehow more than getting whacked in the leg by a chair with chrome legs.
In the quick, small, short second that Wolf is distracted by pain and shock, the White Mamba rears the pot-thing back, and hits Wolf full force in the head. Wolf falls again, and this time the White Mamba hits him as he falls.
Wolf’s not sure he’ll be able to get back up after his head bangs against the ground, and once the White Mamba straddles him and starts punching him over and over again, Wolf knows for sure that he won’t.
Shit, maybe if the White Mamba was a girl, he’d be into it. The pressure on Wolf is nice, and the White Mamba’s pretty enough.
The White Mamba speaks, punching all the while. “Thought I, told you, that I don’t like, rooftops. Told you. Told you.” He keeps repeating that, reminding Wolf that he has and had told him, punching Wolf on every syllable, as Wolf’s head grows lighter and lighter.
Wolf feels like he’s going to pass out, just as someone breaks down the rooftop’s steel door.
It’s fucking Ben Park from Eunjang, and apparently he knows the White Mamba and the two assholes who Wolf assumes are the White Mamba’s friends. He says something to the White Mamba that Wolf doesn’t hear; Wolf’s head is in too much pain to give Wolf access to all five senses.
Hwangmo makes a feeble attempt to stop him, and Ben Park hits him square in the face. Hwangmo falls to the ground, and Wolf knows he’s playing dead. Hwangmo’s a strong fighter, being Ganghak’s number two, but he and Wolf both know he couldn’t beat Ben Park in a fight, no matter how many odds were stacked against Ben, so Wolf won’t hold it against him. Plus he’s the closest thing to a friend that Wolf’s got.
Ben scoops the White Mamba off of Wolf, and grimaces when he sees Wolf’s face. Wolf doesn’t care about Ben Park’s pity, mostly because he’s too out of it to really concentrate much. Ben Park walks over to the two Eunjang assholes, carrying the White Mamba, and makes sure they’re okay, unimpeded by any of Wolf’s goons. Where the fuck was Jared?
Ben Park sees that they’re doing better than the White Mamba was, and they say something to him, gesturing to the White Mamba. Ben’s face contorts into surprise, and he turns and runs out of the room, taking the White Mamba with him.
The two Eunjang assholes pick themselves up, get their stuff, and exit the rooftop, followed by the three Eunjang cowards that held them down while Wolf punched them. They look back at Wolf and Hwangmo on the floor and wince.
The person that Wolf stationed to guard the door to the rooftop is out cold; he’s not as hardy as Hwangmo.
After a while, Hwangmo sits up and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pockets. He brings a cigarette to his mouth and lights it, the smoke wafting up into the gloomy Seoul sky.
“Hey, Hwangmo. Pass me a ciggy.” Wolf says, and stays laying on the ground, looking up into the smoke and the sky overhead.
Hwangmo takes another cigarette out of the pack and lights it, passing it to Wolf, who puts it to his mouth and takes a deep, guttering breath. They stay like that for a while, breathing in the smoke.
“What was that kid’s name?” Wolf asks.
“Who? The White Mamba?” Hwangmo replies.
“Yeah. What’s his real name?”