District 9

Chapter 1

I couldn't tell if it was rain or blood that dripped down my face as I stood panting in a dimly lit backstreet, one of the many running through the city.

My assailant stood grinning a few steps away, his teeth bright flashes in the dark, his face covered by a mask as he studied me. I can't have looked good. I knew I had ripped my dress after catching it on a nail sticking out of one of the wooden planks lining the walls, my eyes were no doubt puffy and red from crying and I only had one shoe on, the other one I had lost three streets down when I had tried lobbing it and my chaser's face. At least my hair was still in its bun; I really didn't want to have to wash it tonight if it got covered in blood.

"What?" The man sneered, taking a few steps towards me. "No more tears?" I gulped as he pulled out a knife. I knew I should have packed a gun tonight; as Minho kept reminding me, I was not invincible. "That was a pretty good show, I'll admit, you had me going for all of about two minutes before I recognised that tattoo behind your ear."

Ah, yes. That stupid tattoo. With my hair up and the lashing wind and rain tearing through the streets, I hadn't stopped to think that, from certain angles, my tattoo would be visible. Especially the way I placed myself tonight; right in front of one of the hitman from Creker, twisting and twirling my body in ways that would make any man lower his guard. Of course, things didn't go quite to plan, which was why I was standing in a slip of a dress with only one shoe on, wishing I was instead curled up on the sofa reading a book whilst trying to ignore Changbin and Han's bickering about whatever new project they were trying to work on now.

"I thought I didn't see it right at first. I mean, I know girls can be in gangs and all, heck, we've got a few real dolls with us, but a girl with Stray Kids? Well, I didn't even know you guys were still around. Thought you'd been made fish food by X's lot." I cringed. This guy was a lot closer to the truth then I would have liked. Our run-in with X's gang, as they were known, had been a close call. "Guess you've just laid low. Imagine what others will say when they find out you're still around. You guys have a lot of people looking to settle debts."

I almost snarled. That wasn't our fault. It was because of JYP, because of what the original boss had done, how he had screwed almost every person in this city over. Including my own gang, Stray Kids.

"Always looking to satisfy." I muttered, wanting nothing more than one of Felix's sig saucer pistols. I tried to edge my way sideways, spying an especially pointy piece of moldy wood resting against the wall within a few arms reach away. So long as I could get my hands on that, I might have a chance of making it home with all my limbs intact. The man spotted my intentions before I even took two steps.

"Oh no you don't." He lunged with the knife, the sharp blade gleaming under the streetlights. I yelped as I fell backwards, only just managing to keep my feet under me. I considered taking my other shoe off and using that to bash his head in, but I knew by the time I managed to get my shoe off I'd resemble a gutted fish. That was not something I wanted to experience.

I dived to the side as the knife came down again. I felt the nick of the knife bite into my shoulder as it grazed me and then felt the swoosh of wind as I spun out the way. I gritted my teeth at the sharp pain. It had been a while since I had been involved in any kind of close quarters fight and even longer again since it had been one where I had brought, well nothing, to a knife fight.

The man was practically beaming at my looming defeat and I wondered whether it would be cleaner to get stabbed in the stomach or neck. Before I had the misfortune of finding out, a figure darted out of the darkness. Tall and lean and glowering, it was almost as if the shadows clung to him.

I sighed a breath of relief as I scrambled further away from the knife, thanking all that was good that my assailant was distracted. The figure running towards us brandished his own weapons, a small taser which could fit into almost every pocket, and, in his other hand, he held a gun. I wondered whether it would be the cool cut of a bullet or the electrifying shock of that taser the man in front of me would face.