In the Wild, Wild, West
Title: In the Wild, Wild, West
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: 2PM
Pairing: Wooyoung/Nichkhun
Word Count: 1,170
Summary: Based loosely on The Good, The Bad, The Weird.
Notes: I believe this was the last story I wrote as a hottest, around ten months ago. I was inspired by the Korean movie which I have watched probably five times already.
The heat waves bouncing off the ground gave a blurred look to the lifeless horizon. Sparse green shrubs hugged the ground in clumps, keeping their moisture in from the unrelenting sun. An eagle soared through the sky, its shadow providing brief relief to the gravel and sand below it. It neared the lone tracks breaking up the desert’s landscape, an iron strip straight through the valley’s centre. In the middle of the tracks it spotted two ravens down below, hogging a stray piece of road kill. The eagle swooped down, the ravens barely flapping out in time as their lunch was swiftly stolen by the eagle just before the steel monster sped over the tracks.
The train groaned as it trundled down the tracks, on its way to the Russian border. In it, worn down survivors of the Japanese invasion and opportunistic people were hoping to find a new life across the border of Russia. The war had stripped these people down to their most basic belongings, grime and poverty stuck onto their faces like a scar that can never heal. One man, specifically a certain confectionary seller, stuck out from the crowd. Unlike the rest of the passengers, he sought more than just a new life.
“Bao zi! Bao Zi!” He called out in his best Chinese.
Whispers swirled around him as he strode past the passengers. It was clear that he wasn’t a local, his attire much shabbier than the rest, neutral colors and plain muslin instead of the pinks and blues they were wearing. He carried a wooden container covered with a white cloth to sell his rice cakes with, his face emotionless except for a slight smile that tugged at his lips. A young man stood up to take a rice cake, but the confectioner slapped the raised hand and shoved him back into his seat. He continued to his destination through the carriage door and slammed it shut.
Instantly he removed the cloth, grabbed two P90s from the wooden container and disposed of the box to the ground. Grinning, he kicked open the door, and emptied both guns into the carriage. Shutting the door with his boots, he slammed in fresh magazines, and burst through the door again. His eyes scanned the carriage; the remaining survivors were who he had hoped. Seven guards lay dead in their own blood as a bewildered man with large eyes stood at the end of the carriage, while another man who looked like a soldier rose to meet him.
Wooyoung turned his head and spat, aiming the Luger at the commander and the unknown man. “You thought you could get out of Manchuria that easily?”
“Ya! Gan shen me a?” the soldier asked.
“You don’t speak Korean?”
“Ben dan, wo wen ni -- ni gan shen me ya?” he demanded insultingly.
“Fucking-“ Wooyoung sighed and popped his neck.
The soldier gave him a quizzical look and shifted his attention to the man with large eyes.
“Ta yao shen me ya?” the soldier thrusted his finger at Wooyoung “ta wei shen me-“
“For Christ Sake!” Wooyoung pointed the gun down and pulled the trigger.
Blood spurted out from his knee as he collapsed with a cry. Wooyoung snorted with distaste at using his ammunition at dirt. He turned his attention to the foreigner.
“I know you can understand me Nichkhun.” Wooyoung slowly stepped forward, gun stilled aimed at Nichkhun and the soldier clutching his foot. “It’s time to give back what you’ve taken.”
“I don’t have what you want.” Nichkhun glared at Wooyoung defiantly. “I sold it at the ghost market to buy the ticket to this train.”
“Oh we both know that that's a lie.”
The soldier groaned with pain at his wound. Wooyoung shot him right in the chest without a glance and aimed both P90s at Nichkhun.
“Now if you don’t want to end up back in a god forsaken jail cell for the rest of your fucking life you better tell me where that map is.”
“Go. To. Hell.” Nichkhun spat at Wooyoung’s feet.
Before Nichkhun could lift up his head, Wooyoung was thrown right at him, the train halting suddenly. Bags overhead were thrown all over them as the tracks screeched with the sudden friction.
“Wha-“ Wooyoung was barely able to move before gun shots erupted from the windows of the carriage. Glass rained on them as the war cries of the Mongolians sounded from outside. His guns slipped from his grasp a few feet away.
“What the fuck are they doing here?” Wooyoung swore as he waited for the shooting to end. They couldn’t have known Nichkhun held the map to the Qing Dynasty treasure, although the bounty on Nichkhun’s head was pretty high. Wooyoung swore again as he saw Nichkhun inch towards his abandoned guns. He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a dagger and stabbed through the fabric of Nichkhun's pants and to the floor, disabling him from moving. He crawled to the two small pistols and put them in the waist band of his trousers.
“Can’t escape from me Khunnie boy.” Wooyoung grunted as he pulled himself up from his laying position and forced Nichkhun to his feet. He bound Nichkhun’s hands together by a handkerchief that was lying on the table and looked outside the shattered windows. He could see the Mongolians outside, chasing the passengers who’ve escaped from the train and robbing them of their valuables. Wooyoung kicked the glass out with the butt of his gun, making an opening big enough for both of them to climb through.
“I’m not going through that.” Nichkhun said.
“That’s fine.” Wooyoung’s grin showed a gleaming gold canine. “I wasn’t asking anyways.”
Nichkhun screamed as a bullet pierced his forearm. “Fucker!”
“Don’t be such a baby. Come on.” Wooyoung pulled Nichkhun onto the table and pushed him through the window. He landed with a thud on the desert floor, Wooyoung right behind looking for any Mongolians thinking they’d get some easy money. Most of the Mongols have deserted the area, the dead laid spread out from the train like rag dolls; suitcases and purses were littered everywhere.
“GRAHHHH!” Out of nowhere, a burly, stocky man on a horse wielded a small axe on his right hand came towards them.
Wooyoung smirked and aimed his P90 pistol and shot him right through the head. His horse reared at the noise and the Mongolian fell sideways off his horse.
“Well, look at that Nichkhun.” Wooyoung walked to grab the horse’s reins. “We got free transportation.” He looked through the saddlebag to find some rope. “And some proper rope to bind your hands. Lucky us!” He tied one end of the rope to the horse’s saddle and walked to where Nichkhun laid. He bound the other man's hands together and kicked him until he got to his knees.
"Where are you taking me?"
Wooyoung could feel his glare at his back as he hoisted himself up the horse. He ignored the question and looked for some cigarettes in the saddle bag. He finds a pack with only a few left and strikes a match, inhaling deeply as the rich smoke fills his lungs. Wooyoung turns around to look at his prize, the one who would earn him enough cash to set him up for life, and exhales slowly with an evil glint in his eyes.
"We're going into town to see if you really did sell that map and asking politely--" Wooyoung patted the guns on his sides with the cigarette butt. "--where it is and if it turns out you're lying, I still get my reward. Win-win situation."
Wooyoung's soft chuckle is the last sound Nichkhun hears before desert winds and silence envelops him for the remainder of the trip.
note: only oneshot, series discontinued.