Eating Out (2)
"Just hand over the drugs nice and quiet. Unless you wanna see something ugly. You don't wanna look like a fool in front of the ladies, right? Right n—"
"Your food's here."
"Ah, thanks."
"…."
The skinny bastard who had been sniffling shut his trap. Had these idiots even heard me? Even after spotting my sheriff badge, the two young punks were devouring their steak and pasta like they hadn't eaten in a month, completely ignoring the guy right next to them.
They had blue drug on them, but did they even know what it was? Nah, that couldn't be. Once the parasites' plan to spread the blue drug was stopped, it got classified as a weapon of mass destruction and put under strict control. The media had blacked out all info on it, so civilians wouldn't know jack, but among ability users who'd been at the dispersal sites, word was already spreading about its effects. No one knew the exact mechanism, but it boosted physical abilities and enhanced powers—that much was certain, and it was all anyone needed to know. Other drugs just gave you delusions of being invincible; this one actually made you invincible for real. Ability users were already secretly trading smuggled blue drugs that the government hadn't seized.
This fucker really an ability user? A quick scan didn't turn up anything special. The two young guys were still tearing into their meat like maniacs, and the skinny bitch was the only one glancing my way nervously—but she didn't look like much either. Maybe they just got handed the blue drug without knowing what it was? Or found it? Or someone slipped it into their bag as a fuck-you prank? That'd explain why they were acting like they had no fear of God.
Tsk. The skinny guy clicked his tongue and flashed the pistol in his waist holster.
"Hey. Looks like you don't get it. Hand over the bag unless you want a hole in your fat gut. Hngh, I'll just confiscate the drugs and give the bag back."
"Ah, this tastes like shit. It's all tough and chewy."
"Smells like old fish too…."
"Should we leave it?"
"You nuts? Why waste good meat? Eat this and order more beef."
"Okay."
"Fuck, are you blind or something?!"
There were limits to insulting someone. Bam! The skinny guy slammed the table in rage. The whole massive thing shook from one light hit, plates tipping over. As food spilled everywhere, a brief silence fell, then the two young punks' eyes locked on him wordlessly.
For a split second, a chill shot up his spine, followed by an inexplicable shudder that hit his brain like a hammer. He flinched back. What the fuck? Was I the one who got spooked? By these Asian shits? Grinding his teeth, he whipped the pistol from his holster in a flash and pulled the trigger.
"Huh? Ah? Aah?"
"They say even dogs don't mess with you when you're eating…. Tsk. Owner! Four more beef steaks here!"
Click-click-click. No matter how hard he yanked, no bullet came out. He watched the guy, who should have been bleeding out on the floor by now, calmly place an extra order. Glancing down, he saw blood dripping steadily. The pistol was sliced clean in half, leaving just the grip in his hand; the barrel and his trigger finger lay rolling on the floor. Only then did he notice the woman stabbing a dagger into the table beside him and piece it together.
Woof! Woof! The bulldog charged with a vicious bark.
"Rip 'em apart and kill 'em!"
"Goddammit, can't we just eat in peace?"
Cheol-woo grabbed the lightning-fast lunging bulldog's jaws, paused as if thinking, then—splat! Its jawbone shattered, blood spraying the restaurant wall.
KyaAaAaK! A scream echoed as the place emptied in seconds. The dog lay twitching on the floor, gushing blood, while the skinny guy, blood spurting from his hand, let out a girlish shriek and bolted out the door.
"Sis, handle the dog. Blood's all over my clothes now."
"No… how could you kill a dog like that, so brutally…."
"Cutting off a guy's hand isn't brutal?"
"I dunno. Ruined my appetite."
"Wanna head out?"
"Food hasn't all come yet."
"Then let's eat what's left and go."
"Yeah."
His stomach was already turned, but ditching after paying felt wrong. Peering toward the counter to check on the food, Cheol-woo spotted a server huddled in the corner, trembling with a phone to her ear. He asked gently when the food would be ready; she lowered the phone, begging please don't kill me, I don't wanna die. He soothed her, told her to just bring the food quick, and she scurried to the kitchen.
He'd thought about refunds at first, but canceling orders already in progress felt rude. Sorry for the chaos they'd unintentionally caused, he ordered extra drinks and left a big tip. Am I kinda sweet? Cheol-woo returned to the table with a satisfied grin.
"What's got you so happy?"
"Nothing."
"What, you like that girl?"
"No. What the hell?"
"I told you, if you're gonna date, get my permission first. Get caught sneaking around, and you're both dead."
"Okay, okay. How many times you gonna say that?"
He laughed awkwardly and got a nagging barrage, making Cheol-woo cringe. How many years was she gonna roast him over one gold-digger mistake? He was completely whipped.
They ditched the trashed table for a bigger one across the way. At least the thinned-out crowd meant they had the place to themselves. Soon the extra drinks arrived, plus some complimentary snacks. The server who brought them scanned Yuri head to toe with a whoosh—then yelped and fled to the kitchen like she was terrified of being sliced up by the sword in Yuri's arms.
Sis, why you gotta be like this? Cheol-woo wanted to crawl into a hole from secondhand embarrassment.
"Cheol-woo. Outside."
"Yeah, I felt it too."
Sipping his beer, Cheol-woo's eyes twitched at the edge of his vision. Yuri's ears flicked as she picked up the disturbance outside. Multiple cars pulling up, followed by the clack-clack of rifles cocking.
Letting the bait go had reeled in the big fish. Looked like ability users who'd secretly dosed themselves with smuggled blue drug. The bodyguard from the Prime Minister's office had been insanely fast, breaking the sound barrier with every move. Wonder what powers these guys had? He was pumped.
"That restaurant, Sheriff? The one with the hand-cutters?"
"Yeah, that's it. Keep it down. Ability users—hearing's probably sharp."
"Told ya to dose up now and then. Can't take 'em unawakened."
"It was right after I dosed."
"What? You got wrecked even after?"
"…Shut up."
Whispers approached from outside. Cheol-woo wiped his mouth with a napkin, chucked a fork to smash the lights—thunk—plunging the room into darkness.
"…Huh."
The door opened; the burly leader started to step in but froze at the pitch black. Spotting a faint silhouette inside, he aimed—then it vanished. He rubbed his eyes, blinked, and his dark-adapted vision took in the room. Just a flipped table where the silhouette had been.
Then—whoosh—something surged from the blind spot, yanking his gun. The grip slipped from his hand in an instant.
"Right in front—"
Stab. A blade pierced his lung, muffling him like a silencer. The others stared, puzzled as he stiffened and gurgled. Then a pistol barrel poked from under his armpit.
"Gun!"
"…!?"
Rat-tat-tat! The muzzle spun, trigger finger blurring as the Five-Seven sprayed jacketed rounds everywhere. Most of the bullets hit home before the guys even registered them, dropping lifeless. In the split-second eh? to ugh as foreheads exploded, only two survived: one who instinctively dodged, bullet grazing his scalp; the other whose skull tanked a direct forehead hit.
That kind of bastard—Cheol-woo felt a pang of familiarity. Back at the department store, one of the NewTontonMen had shrugged off Five-Seven rounds. Looking back, the fatness itself must've been his ability.
"You little shit—"
The chunky ability user staggered from the headshot but quickly raised his gun again. Cheol-woo's Five-Seven roared, slugs slamming into the guy's face—thunk-thud. Flesh tore, blood sprayed, vision turning to mush—then a finisher to the eye dropped him face-first.
Cheol-woo turned to the last one, who was pissing himself on the floor, utterly broken. What the hell? He'd expected ability users to put up a fight, but these were worse than GeumMyeong Security grunts. Red eyes too—they'd dosed on blue drug, yet this was their awakened state? Total letdown.
"Agh! Aaaah!!!"
Without hesitation, Cheol-woo shot out the guy's limb joints. Limbs mangled, he writhed on the floor screaming bloody murder. One more to shred his vocal cords turned the wails to pathetic hic-hic gasps.
"Food… is here…."
"Ah, thanks. You can call the cops now."
"Ah, yes sir."
Right on cue, the food arrived as Cheol-woo sat back down, smacking his lips. Yuri peeked out the window curiously, then her eyes lit up at the spread. They dug in ravenously—chomp-slurp—while Mi-young sat dazed in the middle, utterly spaced out.