Reality Quest: Lookism

(Sunday, November 5, 2020 – 1:57 PM)

(Jin pov:)

Jin walked casually with hands in his pockets, his footsteps were light against the cracked floor with the lingering scent of antiseptic mixed with sweat and iron filled the air.

Ahead, at the junction between the Medical Bay and the Sector B dorms, an inmate in a white coat over his standard prison uniform was tending to another prisoner. A lit cigar rested between his lips, the smoke curling lazily around his face as he wrapped a bandage over the man's arm.

Jin stopped a few steps away. He didn't bother with introductions.

"Where can I find the area boss of this sector?"

The so-called doctor glanced at him, adjusting his glasses with a slow push of his finger. His gaze held none of the awe, none of the fear that Jin had come to expect from the other inmates. Just… indifference.

"Why are you looking for him?"

Jin sat down on a nearby bench, pulling another lollipop from his pocket, unwrapping it with a lazy motion. He popped it into his mouth before answering.

"I'm looking for a good fight."

The doctor gave a slight nod. He finished tying the bandage, securing it with a firm pull before stepping back. The injured inmate muttered a quiet thanks, slipping a few crumpled bills into the doctor's pocket before turning to leave.

As he walked past Jin, the inmate's gaze lingered for a second with pity in his eyes.

Jin ignored it.

His attention stayed on the doctor, watching as he peeled off his plastic gloves and discarded them methodically.

Jin exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly.

"How'd you get permission to do all this?"

The doctor didn't answer right away. He turned his back, heading toward the metal sink at the corner of the room. His hands moved with practiced ease, washing, disinfecting, wiping everything down.

He didn't need to say it.

Jin already knew.

In this prison, you can do whatever you want if you have enough influence and strength.

Exactly..

Strength.

A faint sting.

Jin's gaze flickered downward.

A syringe was lodged in his neck.

His muscles locked instantly while his body felt… wrong.

Heavy.

Unresponsive.

His vision blurred with the faint hum of fluorescent lights growing distant.

The doctor's voice was soft. Too soft. "Good fighters make the best test subjects." Jin's world tilted as his body collapsed, with the last thing he saw being the doctor massive and unhinged smile.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

....

(Gun pov:)

(Sunday, November 5, 2020 – 1:27 PM)

Gun walked down the dimly lit hallway that connected Sector A to Sector C, his pace was unhurried as his cigarette burned slowly between his lips. The faint echoes of violence reached his ears before he even stepped inside.

The moment he entered Sector C, chaos unfolded before him.

The hall was a war zone. Fists flew, bodies crashed against metal railings, and blood splattered onto the cracked floors. Inmates fought with raw aggression, settling grudges that had simmered for months, maybe years.

Gun exhaled a plume of smoke as he looked. The warden had turned this place into a battlefield, and everyone was playing their part.

Then, someone saw him.

"GUN PARK!"

A single voice, filled with rage, echoed above the violence.

Everything stopped.

Fists that were mid-swing froze. Grudges were momentarily forgotten. Dozens, then hundreds of eyes turned toward him.

Their hate for each other was deep, but their hatred for Gun and Jin ran deeper.

Gun stood still, completely unfazed, taking another long drag of his cigarette with the ember glowing bright with the smoke swirling lazily around his face.

The silence didn't last long.

"KILL HIM!"

The hall erupted.

Hundreds of inmates surged toward him, their rage overpowering their sense of survival. Metal bars, sharpened toothbrushes, fists, and boots, all came for him at once.

Gun's lips curled into a wide, unhinged smile while his reverse eyes were full of excitement as he spoke "Yeah... help me warm up!" Gun didn't move. He let them hit him.

A lead pipe came swinging toward his skull, BANG! The metal bent on impact. Gun's head barely tilted. The guy holding the pipe froze with horror twisting his face as Gun's precious and majestic eyes locked onto him.

{A/N: No Diddy.}

"1 out of 100."

Gun's fist shot forward. The man's ribs caved in on impact. His entire body lifted off the ground before he crashed through a table, unconscious.

Another man lunged, a box cutter flashing in his grip. He slashed at Gun's face, aiming for his throat. Gun didn't dodge. The blade scraped his skin but didn't sink in. The attacker barely had time to process the failure before Gun's knee buried itself into his abdomen. A deep, sickening crunch echoed as blood shot out of the man's mouth.

"0.5 out of 100."

Aikido

Gun turned sharply, arms blurring. The air itself seemed to distort as he redirected two men who had jumped at him from opposite sides. Their bodies spun mid-air, flipping violently before crashing into a pile of broken chairs.

Kyokushin Karate.

Gun's right foot slammed into the ground. The entire hall shuddered from the force. His next strike was a full-body punch, the sheer shockwave of it knocking five men backward before his fist even connected with the closest target.

Ribs snapped. Bodies folded.

Gun grabbed an inmate by the throat and squeezed. The man's arms flailed uselessly with his face turning blue. Gun tilted his head, eyes shining.

"3 out of 100. Not bad."

He hurled him across the room.

Someone behind him yelled, "Aim for his joints! Take him down together!"

Four men attacked simultaneously, their movements coordinated. One tried to sweep his legs. Another went for a rear naked choke. The third swung a sharpened toothbrush toward his kidney. The fourth, a wrestler, rushed low for a double-leg takedown.

Gun grin widened.

His arms twisted unnaturally as his grip latched onto the one going for his neck, a flick of his wrist sent the man flipping over his own shoulder. In the same motion, he kicked downward, crushing the leg sweeper's kneecap. The third attacker thrust his shank forward, but Gun's spinning elbow met his jaw first.

The last man, the wrestler, was already committed. Gun let him grab his waist.

"6 out of 100."

Then, Gun planted his feet.

The wrestler's charge stopped.

Completely.

He struggled, veins bulging, but Gun didn't budge. The inmate's face twisted in pure disbelief.

"W-What the f-"

Gun's arms wrapped around the man's waist instead.

A perfect German suplex. The wrestler's skull crashed against the floor with a sickening crack. He went limp instantly.

Gun stood up with dozens of inmates littered the hall, groaning, unconscious, or too afraid to move. But more were coming.

One inmate, standing far back, watched in horror. His lips trembled.

"H-He's… just lik-"

A body flew toward him, knocking him out before he could finish the sentence.

Gun exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His body was untouched and his uniform just a bit wrinkled.

More men circled him, this time keeping their distance. Whispers spread.

"He's not human."

"He's taking full hits and not slowing down."

"We need weapons!"

Gun cracked his neck.

"Don't hold back."

A group of five, clearly trained, moved in. One took a boxer's stance. Another had a Muay Thai guard. The third held a dagger in reverse grip while the last two had homemade brass knuckles.

Gun's eyes gleamed.

"Good. Finally."

The boxer moved first, his footwork was good with a fast jab aimed for Gun's nose. Gun leaned just enough for it to brush past, then absorbed a brutal hook to the ribs.

The boxer smirked 'Got you..'.

Then, his fist stopped moving.

Gun's hand clamped around his wrist, crushing it.

The boxer's eyes widened in sheer terror.

Gun twisted. The man's body followed the motion unwillingly, thrown like a ragdoll.

The Muay Thai fighter's knee snapped forward. A clinch strike. Gun took it clean to the chin causing his head to snap back slightly.

Then, he smiled again.

"Not bad. 7 out of 100."

His fist plunged into the man's ribs. A deep, thunderous boom followed. The fighter's entire body lifted off the ground before crashing down.

The man with the dagger lunged, aiming for Gun's jugular.

Gun's fingers blurred. The knife vanished from the attacker's hand. Before he could react, his own blade was buried in his thigh.

He collapsed, screaming.

The two with brass knuckles swung at the same time. Gun blocked one with his forearm, absorbing the hit, while the other cracked into his ribs.

Gun didn't flinch.

Then, he grabbed their skulls.

Two brutal headbutts.

Both men dropped like lifeless puppets.

The hall was silent again.

Gun exhaled. "Pathetic."

Then, footsteps were heard of three people.

Slow. Purposeful.

Gun turned his head.

Three figures emerged from the far end of the hall, walking in sync. Their presence was stronger than the fodder causing Gun's grin to stretch more.

"Long time no see."