A dime a dozen (sope/yoonseok)

2

“I think I’ll pass. I’m not really the type of guy to hand out favors.”

The man stops just short of ten feet from Yoongi whose hand twitches for the knife in his pocket. “This one’s mandatory.”

Yoongi doesn’t give the other the pleasure of moving first. He swiftly takes a hold of and releases the knife from its sheath, swaying it in the air in front of the man as Yoongi takes multiple steps forward. The guy is stealthy, Yoongi notes, as he’s able to dodge every jab he delivers. A hand comes up and the raven haired expects a blow to his arm so he lowers it, but the man only uses it as a distraction to do a one-eighty around him and suddenly there’s an arm around Yoongi’s neck. The raven haired brings his knife, wielding his hand up automatically to stab at the offending appendage, but the man behind him catches his wrist and forces the knife out of his hand via pressure points.

Yoongi brings his leg up to kick backwards, his running shoe grazing the man’s thigh as the latter pushes him away. Too bad Yoongi didn’t get the good spot. So Yoongi instantly rounds, bending his knees in anticipation. His knife’s to his left, closer to his attacker. The raven haired waits for the other to make the first move this time, watching the man’s footing and hand movements with calculating eyes. The man is just as calculative with his moves too, if not more, almost as if he’s been trained rigorously in extensive combat. Just as Yoongi is still trying to determine what training did he do, the man pounces at him, aiming a fist at the raven haired’s jaw.

Yoongi ducks his head and uses his forearm to push the man’s knuckles away from his jaw, using his other hand to hit the man in his gut, feeling tight muscles hidden underneath his baggy clothes. Now Yoongi knows for a fact that he had some kind of training. Normal crunches and pushups won't do much to make that kind of a body. The raven haired steps to his left in order to inch closer his knife to the man, and the latter falters for a split second. Knowing that Yoongi is going to move in a particular way, the man drops to the ground and kicks his leg out in a three-sixty. Yoongi barely has the time to analyze before he jumps just in time to miss the trip, then springs down to pick up his knife again.

Yoongi looks up at his attacker, finding him stampeding toward him. The man crashes into him, but Yoongi refuses to go down, the man’s face in his chest as the man pushes him into the wall. Yoongi’s back crashes into a building none too gently and he knows he’ll be feeling that tomorrow. Yoongi brings his knife down toward the man’s side, embedding the knife there. There’s a grunt and heavy pants coming from the man as Yoongi works the knife, twisting it around in its home. He’s about to pull it out and stab it back into the same spot when the man grabs his wrist again, working against Yoongi’s muscles to force the raven haired’s arm back against the brick.

The man’s strong, Yoongi will give him that. He kicks his leg up as reflex, using his other hand to push the man’s shoulder down to keep him in line, but his thigh is stopped with his attacker’s other hand. Clicking his tongue, Yoongi flips the switchblade in his hand and thrust it downward, landing it into the man’s hand. He loses his grip on it, however, and the other has easily able to pull his arm away and fling the glinting metal away before that same arm is pressed against Yoongi’s neck, choking him. His hands reaches up to pull at the arm cutting off his oxygen, and kicks his feet uselessly. A few punches are delivered to his gut, causing Yoongi to spit up before he’s turned around against the wall, his face grazing painfully on the brick.

“Ahh,” the man breathes by his ear. “Now if you had just done this from the start, things would have been so much easier.”

“Easy doesn’t suit me,” Yoongi bites back, clenching his jaw.

“It sure doesn’t,” the man laughs haughtily as he presses his shoulder into Yoongi’s back. “I want you to remember two things for me. One. My name is Hope. And two,” Yoongi feels the man behind him, ‘Hope’, glide his fingers over his left arm, his touch almost delicate before they dig into the skin of his forearm in between his wrist and elbow. With a quick flex of the man’s hands, Yoongi’s arm snaps and a strangled cry comes from his lips. “When your arm is healed, I’ll be back to get even with the body count, understand?”

His lips are right up against Yoongi’s ear and the raven haired shudders in disgust, but nods his head. He feels a pat on his head, and then his body is released.

“Good boy,” Hope derides, stepping away. “Don’t miss me, pretty boy, okay?”