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“Not this one!” Sahyuk snarled, jumping to his feet.

Jun raised one eyebrow in defiance, charging onward in a full-throated rendition delivered with more conviction than he’d ever felt before.

I would bleed to be free

Of all you have done

But here I am

Evidence

Ink on my skin

I’m not important

But your crime is

Sahyuk gestured with the gun. “Stop it.”

Jun didn’t, but he did step forward, meeting Sahyuk in the middle, the gun and the microphone between them.

Sahyuk raged. “I gave you an order.” He reached to turn off the track.

Jun blocked him with his body.

Sahyuk jammed the gun against Jun’s stomach. Jun swiveled his hips, shoving the barrel to the side. The gun went off. Heavy impact punched Jun back into the stand for the equipment. It topped. Jun’s hand shot out to save himself, grabbing at Sahyuk. The gun fired again. Something burned in his arm, but his fingers wrapped around the barrel. He slapped the wall with his other arm, stopping his fall, then jerked the gun forward. Sahyuk fell towards him, still gripping the weapon. Jun slammed his knee up and between Sahyuk’s legs. Sahyuk doubled over, air leaving his mouth in a strangled grunt. His hand released the gun as he grabbed himself. Jun ripped the gun free, braced himself against the collapsed equipment, and kicked Sahyuk’s shoulder, sending the man flying towards the middle of the room on his back.

Gun in one hand, microphone still clenched in the other, Jun pushed himself upright and stalked forward, standing over Sahyuk. The man was winded, his hands covering his groin, face twisted up in pain and rage. Jun raised the microphone to his lips. There was no more backing track coming through the speakers. It wasn’t necessary. He’d written this song:

I’m not your child

I’m your crime

I’m not your blood

I’m your patricide

Sahyuk’s eyes widened with fear.

“Don’t.” Jamal pointed his weapon at Sahyuk’s head from where he still lay on the floor. He sounded sick, but the gun was steady.

The door burst open, the charge led by Timothy and two police officers. Damian was right behind them.

“Someone take his gun.” Jun held the weapon out. “He might have used it to kill Gyeong.”

One of the officers produced an evidence bag. The other, along with Timothy, tackled Sahyuk. Jamal dropped his weapon and slumped, face to the floor in obvious distress.

Damian went past them all straight to Jun.

Richard, right behind him, dropped to one knee beside Jamal.

“Your arm” Damian touched Jun’s shoulder.

Jun looked down. His hand was covered in blood, his shirt sleeve was torn and some of the leather straps on his bracer were cut. It looked bad, but it didn’t feel real. It felt far away. Like everything else. He’d been so present, so focused, staring Sahyuk down, and now… now he was cold and clammy and a thousand miles away from what was right in front of his face. He could only understand two things: Damian and Richard.

He looked back at Jamal who was speaking haltingly to Richard. So this is what it was to be in a battle.

“He put something into Jamal,” Jun said. “There’s a syringe. He said it was a sedative.”