Ruffled Feathers
@obshoseok
All he ever wanted was a quiet, peaceful life. He wanted to live off an honest day’s work and involve himself with as few people as possible. He wanted to be able to sprawl out under the sun and watch the clouds roll by in the secluded environment of his boat. He never had ambitions other than freedom, and now that he had it, he would do anything to keep it that way.
Anything.
It was his mistake to come to Sunseong, really. In this city, peace and quiet were a luxury few could afford. “Honesty,” as one might put it, was hard to come by, and largely subjective depending on the context. He had a good life now, but it wasn’t always this way. He had to do things to get to where he was; the money he rolled into town with wasn’t enough to get settled into the life he wanted. He did things he wanted to forget, owed debts that weren’t easy to pay off. “Freedom,” was also subjective, though he did his best to ignore any doubts.
But sometimes, the doubts weren’t so easy to ignore. Sometimes the doubts would invade his mind, or his home. Sometimes they would come in groups of three or four, and insist he pay back what he owed. He had paid off the bulk of his debts over time, but it wasn’t so simple to pull out of the underground of this city. Once you were in, it was hard to leave. He had paid back all that he owed long ago, and then some, but the doubts kept creeping into his life every now and then. And every time, he drove them off.
This time was no different. He found himself in a dimly lit street in a questionable part of town, a flickering neon sign loosely hanging to a wall nearby. Each flicker illuminated him standing there, taking in heavy breathes. He had just regained focus, and at first glance he saw three... four... five. Five unconscious “doubts” laid around him, some in better shape than others. He knew better than to kill any of them; that would only give him more trouble in the future. Their boss just needed a reminder every now and then that he wasn’t to be trifled with. But this time, he didn’t get off so easy.
He didn’t even need to transform for these peons, but his predatory inclinations may have let a few features slip without his knowing. A few feathers littered the area around him, though he was certain he hadn’t shifted too terribly. He was less concerned about the appearance of his body right now, and more about the state it was in. He was dazed, blood dripping consistently from his forehead. He felt a sharp pain in his side and quickly reached for it. He had taken several gunshot wounds, two in his left arm, one in his right shoulder, and one just above his right hip. It was bleeding profusely through his white shirt. Several bruises and cuts adorned his upper body, and he was aching all over accordingly. He was used to pain like this, so his reaction was a bit monotone, but that never made it any more enjoyable. He stood there for a moment, to take it all in.
Then he fell to his knees.