The Hunter...(FF Jeon Jungkook) AMBW

Royalty.

Pulling the thick locks up to the middle of your head, the hair tie was trapped between your whites limply, as a low groan emitted from slightly parted lips. Yours. The messy brown strands fought aggressively as you attempted to seal them within the hairband you once kept in between your teeth, but of course a few managed to slip out of the ponytail. Crouching till one knee, your left, met with the floorboards. A rusty rouge, the dust was evident and added the ancient vibe to your room, you placed on your shoes. Fiddling with the thick laces of the bulky boots, worn and tired of the daily hassle they were put through, whilst holes tore through the soles, you just about managed to tie a decent knot.

“If I earned a good dime for every broken flimmin’ item under my care, I'd be filthy rich, eh”. You muttered suggestively to yourself, as you brought your body into an erect stance, whilst your greyish orbs drifted to the startling reflection presented before you. Bags ringed your eyes, olive skin dry and beaten from the sun, the mane which refused to be tamed was already falling out of it's assigned ponytail, you cocked your head mindlessly.

“A lil’ bit better than yesterday…”. You started, until you raised your right arm lazily, then reluctantly your nose found it's own way to the hidden pit underneath your arm. “O’ sweet baby Jesus…”. You exclaimed in a low voice, as the stench crawled up your nostrils swiftly, also invading the current aroma viciously before you abruptly brought your arm down to stop the growing smell. Meanwhile the square box perched on a small shelf was stuttering, taking a few stiff steps over to it, your left hand took a swing at the defenseless television, and ceased its buffering.   

“There, everythin’ needs a good jump start”. The words slipped out full lips, the colour rose along with a few light chuckles as you slumped back onto a two seater. You sweared a puff of smoke inflated from the black sofa as you sat down, but you dismissed it. For the Television held information you were quite interested in knowing, and even if you weren't...you were still obliged to know. The day had arrived, the draw for the ceremonial Sheath, recorded violently as two names were pulled from millions. Throughout the opening of the draw, the sun repeatedly cut through your windows heartlessly, basically a whole wall of glass you had. Inconvenient.  

“Stein, out of the entire adult population what gender combination do you think we'll have this year?”.

“Well Maellery, I'm betting quite a few on some males. Last one were just girls, so hopefully we get us some men”. A mocked scoff speared through your lips, as your brows raised in disbelief, during this your body shifted messily till you were comfortable. “ Your ‘Men' Mr Stein will be the first to cry for their Mommies when met with death itself”. You jeered to the Tv like a mad one, as your lip subconsciously slipped in between your two sets of teeth, while a small smile hid within the corners of your mouth. Despite the profound moment it was, you'll failed to feel the fear this yearly event was meant to inflict on you. A twinkled mischief cradled your grey orbs, adopted by your mother's strong genes. Your features sharp and angular, a hidden beauty so unique captured your face. An amber hint to your skin, instead of your mother's mocha or your father's paleness. A blend. A mixture of both fair and dark. A burden. No one held your skin tone, too unique. Too dangerous. Too different. But you were a good different, just no one seemed to spare you the right attention to find out. And you simply didn't give a shit.   

“It's time Stein, time to draw out competitors!”. Meallery squeaked too enthusiastically, your eyes hit the far left corner of the ceiling, before rotating clockwise till they met back at the starting point in an annoyed manner. “Gee, don't death sound so blimin’ fun!”. You imitated her excited tone sarcastically, as your shoulders fell into an exaggerated shrug before a remark left your lips. Coming out as an angered grumble, whilst your eyes narrowed to hostile slits and lips pressed firm into a plain line. “Bitch”. A strong-minded female you are, an argument prone specimen, always has something to say. Mostly negative. Positivity didn't sit well with you in the slightest for an odd reason. Introvert and antagonistic summed you up accurately, though you had your sarcastic and sadistic elements. Though your mind snapped out of it's irritation for a few minutes, a silence rang through your room, no witty comments, taunting sounds or sardonic chuckles left you as for the first prolonged thirty seconds you waited for the first name. Now nausea took a toll on you, a knot of nervousness secured its way firmly within your abdomen, though your expression never wavered.  

“Jeon Jungkook”. The name was followed by many gasps, Maellery and Stein exchanged a few looks as a young boy in white clutched the small piece of paper with tiny fingers. “Jungkook, Miss”. His cockney accent was strong and thick, maybe six or seven as he released a small sigh, thinking the same as everyone else around him. The next name had no chance. Jeon Jungkook. The only asian who has seen victory during the 1000 Sheath’s which have occurred including them, and..he was the most brutal conqueror yet. Played in a few Sheath’s back, and his opponent was tortured slowly, and died an inhumane death courtesy of him. Years of training from the age of 8, his weapon the axe though he is familiar with nearly every knife, gun, sword and grenade. Won his Sheath at the age of 19, now 21 he much more than callous threat. Stein’s brows knitted as like Maellery’s with slight fear, all remembering the grotesque scene's from Jungkook’s Sheath, the plotting, the torment, and last but certainly not least...the gore. Suddenly the camera’s angle switched, falling onto the male who caused a thick sense of trepidation to erupt around him. The murky brown in his eyes was stale and forward, his bone structure was exquisite and unlike another, the crowning glory of a nut-brown he wore upon his head, sprawled naturally over his forehead. But something sinister you couldn't ignore even if you tried was brought to your line of vision, his mouth, the plump flesh was pulled discreetly into a sneer as his eyes met with the camera directly. A second it was shown for, before his face smoothed out instantly with a sense of nothingness. At that point, you were sending your prayers to whoever was next, even though you wasn't really a religious person.

“Onto the next”. The little boy said in a hushed tone, as the camera pivoted back to the young child. Again, the deathly silence fell over the audience, along with the first contender. The little milky hand dragged its index against the row of folded papers, aligned perfectly in many, many rows. It came to a halt shortly, as the boy's fingers curled slowly round a small piece of paper, drawing it from the rest like he did with Jungkook’s, though this one was from the untrained section. Unfolding it carefully, the boy read the dreaded name.    

“Adara. Adara Lorell”. You sat there for a few moments, trying to comprehend what was happening as you ignored the outburst from the screen in front of you. “A girl!...it's a girl”. Maellery shrieked, as Stein gave a sympathetic look to his fellow co host. The last time there was a boy and girl combination it was over ten years ago, and now it included one of the most and if not the most brutal male of all. Out of nowhere a red light appeared slyly from one of the white tiles on your ceiling, not realising yet a long string of curse words left your mouth heatedly. By now your hair tie was ripped away from your hair, as you went to your closet, though little did you know a camera had been placed within everyone's house, and as now your name was called out your camera turned on. So the television screen was projecting your scruffy apartment, and you storming out along with your profane language from before, a little update from last year's Sheath. Returning, still not a glimpse spared to your Tv, the audience and everyone tuned into the drawing including your opponent, watched your aggravated form drag the long wooden baseball bat back to your living room. And the drastic happened.

“All. I. Want. Is. A. Peaceful. Life. THAT'S IT”. With each vexed word, you brought the bat down which you once placed over your shoulder, viciously over random objects in your living room. “You. Fucked. With. Me. Many

Times. Big. Guy. ISN'T THAT ENOUGH”. You screamed your last words, as you hurled the bat into your aged computer roughly. Most would weep, others lock themselves away but never had anyone seen any elected express themselves as you were now. “Where did she get  a bat from?”. Maellery asked and broke the silence as the camera adverted off you and back to her, causing you to turn on your heels immediately and you caught the red cam light within the process.

“Christ…”. You muttered, as you realised you were being recording, throwing the bat mindlessly across the other side of the room, your eyes met with the camera deadpan. As your lips pulled into a menacing snarl, you let your hand move from it's side and position itself within the camera's view. The longest finger stood tall as the other's kept low, making a very rude gesture that caused a crowd of gasps, you wasn't thinking properly as you averted your gaze to your television, quickly. Noticing yourself properly on the screen, you frowned a little before grabbing your hoodie then making a turn for the door.