Cold Fire - BTS Gang AU

Prologue

Deadly Attack on Daegu Police Station

Investigation of Fatal Attack Continues

Three officers have been reported dead and at least twelve injured in a deadly arsonist attack on a south Daegu police station. Information is still flooding in about a group of mysterious attackers, two of whom have been identified as members of the notorious gang Bangtan Sonyeondan, otherwise known as BTS.

"We believe it is safe to assume the others were members of BTS as well," says detective Choi Jihyun, one of the investigators on scene. "They've attacked regions of Daegu before, killing people close to this area. It's only natural to think they'd strike here again."

Choi has also stated that the two identified as gang members are those named Hellhound and Black Dragon by those searching for them.

"Black Dragon appears, at least to the extent of our knowledge, to be the leader of BTS. He was identified through a blade used as a murder weapon, carved with the image of a dragon. This seems to be his trademark. The other man, Hellhound, is one of the main attackers in this group, as well as the one who initially started the fire in the station."

Citizens are warned not to approach or engage with any identified members of BTS. "Assume they are armed, and know that they are extremely dangerous," says Choi. "All of them are threats to the community, but Hellhound especially. He attacks without warning and appears to be very outwardly aggressive, and his anger is easily triggered."

Images of known members of BTS have been included in this article for reference. More information will be released at the disclosure of the SDPD.

Below the article were four pictures, all in black and white.

A tall, slender man, running from the scene with a blade. Dark, determined eyes glinted above a black mask, embroidered with two silver dragons. Even with the mask, it was clear that his jaw was set, his mouth unsmiling. He looked like a man on a mission, and failure, whatever that meant to him, was no option.

Another tall man, dark hair falling in his eyes, shadows covering his face and making him look like a living mystery. He was wearing a mask as well, apparently a smoky grey color, concealing what looked like a smile on an elegant face. His high cheekbones and full lips cast dramatic shadows on perfect, light skin, giving him the appearance of a dark angel.

A third man, just as tall as the first two, with a muscular, clearly strong build. He was just... standing there, not running from the camera, nor towards it, merely staring down the person who viewed the image with large, dark eyes. He wouldn't have looked intimidating, what with his doe eyes and round, puffy cheeks, but there were several dark spots, which looked suspiciously like bullet wounds, in his torso, and he looked completely unaffected by this fact. He looked... inhuman.

The fourth man was not tall, at least not by the standards of the other three. He had dark hair like the others, a defined jawline, and eyes so full of anger it was hard not to feel your skin crawl at the image. He was looking directly at the camera, flames dancing in the background and his hair flying with them in the dramatic, sharp lighting. It was clear, even without the caption beneath his image, who this one was.

Four identified.

Black Dragon. Smoky Dove. Iron Bear. Hellhound.

The man holding the newspaper dropped it onto the dirty sidewalk. The shadows along the ground from the late afternoon sun, peeking through a layer of ash grey clouds, were reflected on his face. His dark hair blew in the slight, cold breeze.

Everything they say about me is true, he thought to himself. But they judge so heartlessly. They don't know anything about me except what they can see.

Flashes of his past were coming back to him now, like angry bees, each one attacking with a stinging pain. Each one only caused a pang of hurt and rage, flaring red behind the man's dark irises.

They have no idea. No clue what causes this rage. None. Yet they judge me. Unrightfully.

Each stray memory pushed the man further over the edge. He balled his hands into fists, shaking with rage. He was so close to snapping. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a lighter, flicking it on, holding it in a trembling hand.

The orange and blue trail of heat and light, held in the palm of his hand, gave the man a sense of serenity and calm, falling over him like a twilight shadow. The light was reflected in his dark irises, like an ember flickering in the midst of a dark desert. Fire was his companion. His friend. It was wild, violent, uncontrolled, yet it had become his companion in the form of a tiny, flickering light, cuddling up to him.

Fire understands. It doesn't judge me.

"Sir, are- are you alright?"

A voice cut through his thoughts. A woman's voice, shattering the sheet of calm thoughts that the man had wrapped himself in like a rock thrown at glass. The man's vision flashed red again in anger, and he turned to face the woman behind him.

Her eyes, dark like his, flared wide in fear the moment she caught a glimpse of his face. She backed up a few steps before turning tail and fleeing the scene, black hair flying behind her as she bolted away.

Just one more person who judges me. One more who doesn't know me.

That was it. That last stinging thought had penetrated just too far, and the man snapped.

With a shout of rage, the man grabbed the newspaper, setting it aflame, and threw it at the nearest structure. The gas station, as it happened to be, was an ideal match for fire if you wanted one. The massive propane tanks suddenly were set aflame after a few moments in a fiery explosion.

Standing there, swathed in the extreme heat with his hair flying in the hot wind, the man's calm feeling came back. Fire. His friend.

I know why they call me Hellhound, at least. That may be the only right thing they've done, naming me after one of those beasts of flame.

...