Ink is Red, Blood is Black
He hadn't really been paying much attention, to where he was headed.
Merely keeping an eye out for danger at every turn. He had no destination in mind. Merely to wander. Wander, until fate brought him to his next destination. Be it to his death. Be it to his pack. Be it, to possibly finding his sister. If she was even still out there, and alive. He would then wonder, why he was looking for her in the first place. He knew he would not have what it took to take out her zombified corpse. He just knew it. He wasn't strong enough to take out the only one in this world he knew of, that had been his rock and pillar. He could not be the one to find her. If she was alive and they met again, he would be elated. But he should not be hoping to find her.
Not alone, especially.
His feet took him in a directionless path. Though from what he could scarcely notice, was he was heading more north. Further into danger. And towards the more densely populated cities. Where the larger herds of zombies were currently residing. Only the foolish, or psychotic would dare head further north. Towards the cities, and the border. Now, he had no intention of ever crossing the border into North Korea. He was pretty sure he'd never leave the region of South Korea. But he knew he was venturing into that general direction.
He wasn't sure if he minded, or not. San wasn't really afraid of much. Oh, he could scare easily when taken unaware. But in this new world, he wasn't allowed to be afraid. Even Soojun had told him that he shouldn't live with much fear. He'd never survive or thrive, if he did. That he could not live, if he was to live in constant fear. He was allowed to have fears. To get scared. But if he let everything frighten him, then he was already dead. And he'd taken Soojun's words to heart.
Gods above, he already missed his former soldier friend. At least, he was at peace now. No longer suffering in this now unrecognizable world. San blinked from his musings, to glance about him. The world seeming to have dimmed and grown into a grey haze. Not a terribly grey haze, but it was still fairly grey. He blinked, taking in the tall structures about him. Huh. He'd entered a city. Fair enough. He wasn't being foolish enough to head further into the city. He would find a place to duck into, and stay there until he knew it was time to move on.
He brought his gun around, ensuring it was loaded. He would hate to use it. It would draw all the zombies in this city to him. And he really didn't want to waste any bullets. But he had it, just in case. Besides, he could just turn it around and use it as a club. He didn't have to waste the bullets. San paused, before he took out the pistol Soojun had given him shortly before the fall of their outpost. It had only a few bullets. And two, were specific. Though one, would never see its target. It had Soojun's name etched into it. The bullet he would have used, to take himself out. San would save it for a zombie he felt deserved it.
The other, was his.
He had not etched his name into it, but it was still his. If he got bit, he was going to shoot all of them, except the last one. Then, he'd use it on himself. Take himself out, before he could turn. He hoped it didn't reach that point. But if it did, he hoped it was before he met his mate or mates. If it was after, he would feel very torn. Wanting to be there for them, but not willing to risk them. Damn. The apocalypse really did make one question what was important. How important it was. And what one was willing to do when all options were exhausted.
This thought pulled a soft sad smirk to San's face. His head dropped. He reached a hand up, and took hold of the dog tags dangling from his neck. He would never forget all Soojun told him. He'd been a great friend. And a great mentor. San would never let his memory die. Not as long as he could. He took a moment to gaze at his name etched into the dog tags. With a final clutch of them, he let them fall back against his chest. He took hold of his gun thoroughly again, and slowly made his way into the city.
He was moving in.
//
He paused beside a building, seeing some zombies milling off in the distance.
However, they were not aware of him. Worked for him. Not ready to risk an encounter with any of them, San turned to look at the building he was stopped beside. He blinked, seeing what it had once been. Curious and intrigued, San carefully made his way inside. It was a mess, as was most anything in the apocalypse. Showing the hurry and rush wolves had had when it started.
It all felt so long ago, now.
He very quietly closed the door behind him. Turning to lock it, before he pulled the shades closed. Anything to block out the light, and keep from being seen by those things. He then slowly turned around, being as quiet and stealthy as he could be. Ensuring no zombies were about. After clearing out the entire facility, San finally sighed softly. Shoulders relaxing, tension fleeing from him. He set his rifle down, then his backpack. As he took in the former tattoo parlor, his mind wandered. It wandered back, to when he'd been at the outpost. When he'd felt he'd found his place. Among other wolves he felt closer to.
Yes, fighting had always been part of alpha nature. It was in their blood and DNA. It was who they had always been. But something about his boxing and kickboxing, something about the military just appealed to him. His sister had once called him a fighter alpha. Reminding him that when their ancestors roamed the forests, there were alphas that were specially trained and focused on defense and fighting. Oh, they could calm and settle to have mates and produce pups. But, they were always the first to enter into a fight beside their head and pack alphas. Always ready to fight to the bitter end.
And San, was a fighter alpha.
And to him, it made sense. It was a feeling he felt all the time. And if his sister had been right, then he was damned proud to be a fighter alpha. After checking his surroundings a final time, San sat on one of the long abandoned work benches of the former tattoo parlor. He pulled out the images of his family, and looked at the smiling images of his family. His other hand reached up, clutching his dog tags.
His red gaze flickered up to meet his, even as he flicked a card down onto the table between them. The lamp light dim and low. They would have to resort to candles here, fairly soon. He let a puff of smoke escape from his barely pursed lips. The long brown cigar sticking from between chapped lips, and his fangs. San spoke softly, "You know smoking is bad for you, right?"
Han Soojun blinked a moment, watching him as he doled out the cards as necessary. After a long enough pause, his former friend and colleague spoke as he removed the cigar from his mouth, "Let me let you in on a secret, San. When you're a soldier in the military, you learn to not give a fucking damn about what is and is not healthy for you. Every second could be your last. You can be taken out by a sniper, being very sick, captured and tortured to death. And in this new world, eaten by your former fallen comrades. You have to make every second count. Why use them to worry about anything? Live your life as if it's the last moment you have. Stop with the boring, and go for the fun."
San hummed, nodding as he took to playing with his friend, "True." He asked softly, "You, think I'd have made a good soldier? If you know, I had managed to make it to my actual enlistment instead of the zombies forcing it."
Soojun hummed, scratching his chin a little, "Dunno. You seem eager. Got plenty of beef to you. I guess it depends on how you'd handle the entrance exam. And I'm not talking the written one. That thing can be studied and passed like a breeze. Almost ninety precent of those who take the written test, pass. It's the verbal test that sees that number reduced to nearly less than one percent making it into the military."
San nodded, "If you don't mind, like what?"
Soojun smirked, eyes sparking, "Wanting to see how you'd fair, hm?"
He sat back, looking down at their game.
He crossed his arms, taking San in, "Here's your first question. Each one is a scenario. What you answer, will let us know if you'd even make it to military. Let alone where you'd be stationed. And, what kind of unit you'd be put in. Your first scenario is having to do with our old friends up north. Not that they're much of a threat now. No way they got the health, alpha power, and resources to handle a zombie apocalypse, and shut everyone out. Again. You are asked to attend the interrogation of a former North Korean soldier. They are seeking intel on all the positions Kim Jong Un is taking, to try and tighten the noose around his own wolves. And our own. You step into the room and find them waterboarding the poor bastard. His hands tied behind his back. His face already gaunt and pale. Wet as any dog would be. Your superior turns to you, and tells you that you are next to dunk his head underwater. What would you do or say in such a situation?"
While surprised by such a question, San found himself not at all hesitating in answering, "How long, sir?"
Soojun blinked, raising an eyebrow, "Elaborate, soldier."
San answered, "How long shall I hold his head under the water, sir?"
Soojun smirked, "Oh, you'd certainly be in the military for sure. Sometimes, you have to be ruthless. None of us really likes this method of interrogation, hidden from the world. But then, everyone does it. You just barely hear about it, because we've got tight lips. Going and exposing could have you killed as a result. If not dishonorably discharged."
San nodded slowly, "Well if he was from North Korea, I wouldn't mind. We offer them time and again to come to South Korea. They would be free. They would have food. They would not have to worry if they'd be shot for trying to leave. Yet, they let fear of one fat alpha bastard keep them on a tight leash. How could I feel sorry for someone who refuses help? Most in South Korea would have willingly helped protect him. Yet he chose to reject it."
Soojun smirked, "Very good, but try and remember. They have few options. Most are brainwashed, or just want to finish and hopefully return to their families. Unaware their families may already be dead. Kim Jong Un is a terrible, yet brilliant leader. Do not underestimate such an alpha. We will always offer them a chance to escape. But we cannot make that choice for them. Nor can we force it."
San nodded, "I can go for that."
Soojun spoke, "Remember, you can try and save those of North Korea. But you must always put South Korea first. It's your home first. The South Koreans are your fellow wolves first, they are priority. North Koreans are not. Harsh as it is."
San nodded.
He had to wonder, if the zombies were now included in that. He could tell such a question often bothered most who entered the military. He now understood why nearly less than one percent ever made it. It put one's ability to be a protector, and caring nature on the line. How much were they willing to sacrifice of themselves, for the greater populace?
He turned, setting the images down as he let his dog tags go. He whispered softly, "I'll try and not let you down, Soojun. Thank you, for guiding me as best you could."
He turned, and picked up one of the needles.
And some black ink.
//
He had been cautious, and not at all hopeful.
After all, no power. But when San realized it was a machine mostly powered by his foot, he didn't mind. He bit his bottom lip, knowing the soft buzzing may attract attention. But, he wasn't sure what he could do to muffle the sound. He also had to consider what he'd ink first. His body a current blank canvas. As he tried to determine what image he'd put on first, his mind went to his sister. Would she approve of him getting even one tattoo?
She smiled softly, hand coming to his shoulder, "Sannie. I get you want to look like a badass, but a broken hand isn't the way. You need surgery. Stop being such a tough guy, and accept the help. I know, alphas don't like that. But you need to let it go, now and then. That alpha pride will be your downfall. Scars are fine. They indicate you fought hard for something good and positive. Your body should reflect that. But not in this way."
San smiled softly. He nodded. She may be okay with a tattoo. After all, it wasn't like it was permanent damage to his bones. He's always wanted to get tattoos. But, he's never gotten them. He knows his parents would have been disappointed. But his sister? She may have even gone with him for his first tattoo. May have even gotten one herself. Sometimes, she would do that. Just because she wanted to support him. He could bet she'd get something small and pretty. A butterfly, perhaps. Or a flower.
As an alpha, San wasn't all too keen on getting something like that. He had nothing against butterflies and flowers. Just, he wasn't sure he could sport one in tattoo form. After taking some time to determine his first tattoo, San took his trousers off. Leaving him in but his boxer briefs, socks, and boots. He supposed he'd work on his legs first. Then his arms. Then his torso. Hm. He'd need help by the time he reached his backside. He had a general idea of what he'd do for his body canvas. How many where. All of that.
With a sharp a deep intake of breath, San started the machine. It buzzed softly. Like a high pitched whining. He turned it off just as quickly. Holding his breath. Waiting for the zombies to start banging on the door. His ears perked, straining to listen. After what felt like eternity, San breathed a soft sigh of relief. Perhaps the walls and glass were too thick for the sound to leave. Satisfied with this yet still airing on the side of caution, San began to ink his flesh.
He started with his left calf.
He hoped he didn't do a terrible job. He was never trained on how to ink anyone. Let alone himself. But, he felt as if it would be okay. He wasn't sure why, or how. He got as comfortable as he could, and worked the needle. Drawing a little blood, while leaving behind ink. Slowly forming the image as he envisioned it. It was a wolf face. Scarred, and peering through torn and burned open flesh. Growling and snarling. With piercing eyes, and dripping fangs. The image clear. He was ready to strike as need be.
At least, that was what San hoped it portrayed.
It was what he had in his mind. Once he finished and was ready to let it heal, San finally relaxed. No banging on the doors yet. He was still safe. He would give it the time it needed to heal. He would tattoo another image later. He had time. He was decidedly not going anywhere for a while. He felt like he'd found his place to settle. Especially with winter slowly rolling in. It was still fall, he knew this. But he knew winter was on its march towards them. And it was going to be a long and bitter winter.
But before it hit, he'd finally get a pack member.