“If you don’t accept my apology, I will feel incredibly guilty and I shall have no choice but to ask you out to dinner for my mistake."
Azazel. Otherwise known as the Yellow Eyes demon. Ruthless soul collector, worked directly under Lucifer. We hunted him across the states, working on every hunch we had, every whisper we heard. Gabrielle eventually caught up with him and finished him off once and for all. A curse that he had operated under took effect, thus sealing him inside a single weapon of Heaven for eternity. As long as the universe exists, the demon remains trapped inside the weapon of the Hunter.
He had many followers, many of which even took on his name and appearance (with the help of witches) so they may keep the terror inside humans alive. Since his demise, though, all but one of his disciples have faded into nothingness.
It is this demon—this abomination—which we now seek to destroy.
-Raphael
~~~~
“Hey, try this on! Oh, and this. You have the hips for it. Ooh, how about this pretty peasant top?!” The pile of clothes came dangerously close to toppling poor Yuri over as Tiffany added article after article into her arms. The other girl seemed to be having the time of her life, picking out clothes for her best friend. “What about those jeans? Look at the ass pockets. Think that won’t be too much sparkle?”
As long as I don’t get stared at… “I just need clothes, Tiffany. Nothing too flashy.”
“Right, right,” she nodded absently as she riffled through the hanging shirts. “Hmm, too much ruffle going on there.”
Yuri wandered over to examine a pretty black and white dress modeled by a mannequin. The stretchy material hugged every curve on the plastic figure. A large triangle cut in the back meant that even a strapless bra was out of the question. “Hmm…” She looked around for a store clerk. This dress is exactly my size…I wonder… “Oh, excuse me. Sir?” She flagged down an employee, who walked over immediately. “May I see that dress?”
He glanced back at it. “Oh, yes. I’ll take it down for you.” His eyes raked up and down her body before deciding that her size matched the dress and carefully unzipped it from the mannequin.
“Thank you.” She laid it across the top of her pile and headed back over to Tiffany; a stack of casual dresses was now strewn across tasteless acid-wash jeans. “Hey, Tiff. I’ll take whatever you’ve found and go to the dressing room. You, ah…” She searched for an excuse to get rid of the girl; she laid eyes on a hat display across the aisle from them. “Why don’t you go check out those hats? Didn’t you say that you’re going to need something more bad-ass for some new video the girls and you are doing?”
Tiffany spun around, gasping. “That is an excellent idea!” She dropped a pair of slacks onto Yuri’s alarmingly high pile (the girl staggered under the weight) and bustled off to check out the many caps and hats that hung from the illuminated stand. That should keep her busy for a while, so I can try everything on. She smiled despite the heavy weight of the clothes in her arms. Once I have a decent wardrobe to work with, I can officially begin the hunt for the demon. Once Siwon is done with the weapon, I can put all of my effort into it. Off to try on clothes, now.
~~~~
“Those morons, making me get the stupid maknae a damn gift,” Jaejoong grumbled under his breath while exiting the glass elevator. Several fangirls behind him squealed and swooned, but made no move to follow. Thanks to his new bodyguard that seemed to be a combination between a Boeing 747 and Sasquatch (aptly named Tank), he had fended off most fans this afternoon. He shoved his thumbs into his pockets as he headed into the men’s department. “What the hell does Changmin even want? I received no list or birthday wishes, so he’d better love whatever I get him.” He stopped in his tracks when a group of girls eyed him in fascination. “Tank, take care of them,” he ordered while zeroing in on a sales representative.
The young lady bowed to him. “Ah, Mr. Kim. We were informed of your arrival late last night. How are you finding the—”
“There was supposed to be no one in this shop aside from me,” he said curtly.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Kim.” She bowed. “I will call management and have them clear the store.” She bit her lip; it was often risky to close a store for a celebrity, unless they planned to spend more money than the store’s daily quota. “But let me assist you, sir. What may I interest you in?”
He nodded towards the designer leather jackets segregated away from the low-profile names. “I’d like to see your collection.”
“Of course, right this way.” She hustled over to the large glass case and opened it with a key around her neck. “One of the favorites from the Armani winter collection just—”
“I will peruse and see what catches my attention,” he interrupted her. “Clear the store, as my manager requested of you yesterday.” He leaned forward to get a closer look at the jet black leather; the design indeed suggested it was Italian, though not an Armani. That particular jacket had one too many pockets for something of Changmin’s taste, so he ignored it.
“Uh, sir…?” When he continued to remain silent, the girl realized he was done talking. Blushing, she bowed anyway and hurried off to shoo away all of their other customers.
Jaejoong rubbed his fingers against a dark grey leather jacket of unknown origin. Min’s got a thing for grey…I’ll consider this one. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another man walk by with a pinstripe suit in hand. Hmm…I could go for some better threads. He glanced down at his plain black v-neck sweater and skinny jeans tucked into boots. This bastard has the fashion sense of a heterosexual woman. New clothes are definitely on the top of my list. He grabbed the grey jacket, tossed it over his shoulder, and headed towards a section that housed dress slacks and button-ups.
~~~~
Damn. I knew they’d be a tight squeeze, but wow. How do girls wear these every day…? Yuri let out a groan and hopped again, yanking her jeans higher up. And as for the name…“jeggings?” Really? She sighed when she realized her curvy hips would not allow for these sorts of jeans. Skinny and bootcut are fine for me, I suppose. After one more hopeful pull, she surrendered and peeled them off her legs. She reached for a pretty red, white and pink dress that Tiffany had picked out. The sleeves puffed out and the skirt flared out from her waistline. “Not bad,” she muttered as she twirled in front of the floor-length mirror in her tiny dressing room. “But pink’s not my color…”
Someone knocked on her door. “Anything else, ma’am?” called the man that had helped her earlier.
“No, thank you,” she said politely while slipping back out of the dress. As the minutes passed, and the “still left” pile grew smaller and smaller, she was surprised to see that she had rejected half the outfits. I can’t be so choosy…hopefully, I will not be here long enough to care about my wardrobe…soon, she found her pile practically non-existent, minus a few other pairs of jeans and the pretty black dress she had chosen herself.
“I nearly forgot about this dress.” She checked to make sure the door was properly locked before unhooking her bra and stepping into the dress. “Damn,” she whispered softly when she saw the zipper in the back of the dress. She would have to fetch Tiffany; no way would she let the sales rep inside her dressing room while braless. “Oh, man…what do I do?” She stood on her tiptoes to look over the door; she spotted Tiffany near the perfume counter, chatting animatedly with a lady behind the counter. Well, what do I do now? When she turned back to the mirror, she let out a gasp. The dress clung to all of her curves. Well-placed pads in the chest area hid the fact that she had nothing underneath. Thin spaghetti straps held the masterpiece up. The hem hung four inches above her knee, making it modest yet sexy at the same time.
And now…for the back…she revolved slowly, and looked over her shoulder. Her porcelain skin flowed uninterrupted from the back of her neck to the small of her back. I think I like this dress way too much, but now for the damn zipper…it took her a few minutes, struggling with the small and slippery piece of metal, but soon she had zipped it up a majority of the way. “Must go show Tiffany,” she said to herself as she unlocked the stall. She informed the sales clerk that she would return for the clothes left in the stall; he nodded cheerfully and waited for her as she crossed the way.
“Eh…” Tiffany had vanished off to Lord knows where. “Dang it.”
~~~~
With a few pairs of pants and several shirts over his arm, Jaejoong asked a saleslady where the nearest dressing room was located. In a sickly sweet tone (this girl was not happy to lose customers because of him, quite obviously), she pointed him across the store to the ladies department. “It’s a unisex fitting room,” she warned him, “but since you cleared the store, I’m sure you won’t have to worry about stupid fans, hmm?”
He had held back a laugh before thanking her and rushing over to try things on. If I have to shop for someone, so be it. I found Changmin’s gift. There. Done for the day. I can enjoy myself now, can’t I? He almost ran across the path of a manager and three young girls, all of whom held camera phones and notepads with pens. “Close call,” he murmured, turning around and going around the tall rack that would hide him from view. “Just a few clothes, then I can text Tank and tell him to get his ass back here and escort me out…”
Wham. Since he had been looking around for the dressing room, he had not been watching the way in front of him and so collided with something very much solid and breathing. “Watch it,” he growled.
“Sorry,” came the non-apologetic and vaguely sarcastic reply.
He raised his eyes, seeking out the culprit’s face. “You bumped into…” When he locked gazes with the two softest chocolate irises he had ever seen, his sentence trailed off into nothingness. Recognition lit up her eyes, but when he blinked the disbelieving anger had returned. “Ah…” His eyes scoured her flawless face and her shiny dark hair. “My apologies, ma’am. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
She sniffed indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest in an awkward manner. “Hmph. You let out some sort of an animalistic growl at me, so your apology is not accepted.” When she made to move past him, his hand flew out and caught her arm. Her shocked stare quickly turned into a glare. “Let me go.” It was an order, not a request.
Hmm, bit of hostility behind those words. And…her aura. He caught himself inhaling her scent deeply. Whatever perfume she is wearing, it is…positively exquisite. But her aura…I’ve never felt something as powerful as this. She must be quite a little hurricane. “If you don’t accept my apology, I will feel incredibly guilty and I shall have no choice but to ask you out to dinner for my mistake,” he breathed huskily. He knew anyone with active hormones would automatically swoon at the normal tone of his voice, much less at this deep and seductive level. “What do you say?”
To his immense surprise, she jerked her arm back. “No, thank you,” she said quite coldly. “Good day to you, sir.” She shoved past him, glaring straight ahead of her.
…what just happened? I was not just turned down. No woman in her right mind would dare reject the great Kim Jaejoong. He stared after her retreating back. The geometric shape cut out of the back of her dress bared her milky skin to him. He imagined running his hands over her body, and how velvety smooth it would be. He watched her long legs step right in front of the other—a model’s walk. Hmm…if he wanted to, he could give chase right now. He could grab her inconspicuously, put enough pressure on her arm to make his threat known, and take her to his place for the night…maybe she would last longer than the others…her aura gave off the impression that she was quite the fighter…
“No,” he breathed slowly, making his decision then and there. “Run now, little one.” His pupils contracted slightly; a passing sales manager did a double-take at the suddenly menacing-looking singer. Jaejoong looked at him sideways; he gasped and ran off, now very much frightened. Even he knew that I am a force to be reckoned with. Very well. We’ll meet again, milady.
~~~~
After gathering all the clothes she had liked as well as the dress she loved, Yuri hurriedly thanked the sales rep for all his help and rushed off to find Tiffany. The girl group member was eventually found by the shoes (with a few items on the chair beside her), gazing longingly at a pair of Louboutin heels that were just a tad bit out of her budget. “Yah!” Yuri yelled, smacking her friend on the arm. “You just up and left me by myself!”
“Is that a problem?”
She blushed. “Just a little…I ran into that Jaejoong guy.”
“As in, Kim?”
“Are there any other Kim Jaejoongs out in the world?”
“You do have a point.” Tiffany set the designer heels back onto their display case. “Want to grab a bite to eat before we haul your crap back to your place?” She eyed the semi-large pile in her friend’s hands. “I see you put back most of what I picked out. See if I ever help you again,” she quipped as they walked off together.
Yuri rolled her eyes. “I actually kept a lot of what you chose for me. Oh, hey. Remind me to show you this cute cocktail dress I found…” Mentally, she was fuming. How dare Jaejoong treat her as if he had run into some sort of inanimate and crude object? And then asking her out after he had driven her to her boiling point! He has some guts to speak to me that way. I bet he speaks to every girl that way…and yet, her stomach fluttered at the thought of him speaking like that exclusively to her. He’s a man, Yuri. Get hold of yourself. All men want is one thing, and you don’t have the time to play hard-to-get with a guy. “No, I have this covered,” she said quickly when Tiffany pulled out her card. She winked and handed the clerk her shiny platinum credit card. Just forget about that…ingrate.
~~~~
In the immaculately clean living room, Yoochun hummed to himself as he cleaned his clear seraph blade with a cloth. Soon it shone with a faint blue glow. He held it aloft and examined it thoroughly, making sure no scratches or marks were left on the crystal blade. “Hmm…” He spotted a speck near the tip of the blade and quickly scrubbed it away. “Aha, cleaner than before!” He pressed it to his lips, a symbol of the relationship between the blade’s soul and his own. “Dumah, I am very lucky to have you,” he muttered almost lovingly to the sword. It glowed brighter, and he smiled. “Your radiance tells me that you, too, are glad to have me as a partner.”
Unfortunately, he was wrong. The blade suddenly burst with a dazzling light before retreating to a dull glow again. Yoochun leapt to his feet, poised for attack. He felt his wings try to unfold and held them back, waiting. Blade glowing…that means only one thing.
A demon is nearby.
He crept to the window and pulled the curtain back. Below the apartment building, the streets were empty. The streetlight flickered to life, casting eerie shadows onto the sidewalk. There has to be something around the apartment. He leaned back, his eyes completely sweeping the walls and corners of the living room. Something is in here, then. It had to be a demon, or something with demonic energy for the blade to have reacted as strongly as it did. It’s not broken. You can’t break a seraph blade.
A loud noise from the hallway had him raising the small sword higher, level with his chest now. He slowly approached the door, aware that on the other side could lurk a demon much more powerful than he was in his vessel form. Shit, what do I do? No one else is home, and if I confront a demon by myself, I could get hurt…he briefly closed his eyes. Without his brothers, he would be no match for an upper level demon. Screw it, I’m taking it on. He let his power level rise and unbuttoned his shirt in case he needed to take flight. Again, he heard the noise—the doorknob rattling—and he took in a deep breath before unlocking it swiftly and swinging it open.
“WHOA!”
“Agh!” Yoochun stumbled back, quickly hiding the lightless blade behind his back. “Jaejoong, you scared me!”
The other man stared at him in complete disbelief. “You point a knife at my neck, and I scared you?!”
“I’m…sorry,” he mumbled, looking over Jaejoong’s shoulder. Nothing, absolutely nothing. “Crap, I’m sorry, Jaejoong-sshi. I thought…that a burglar was snooping around. Really, I had no idea you were here.”
“Next time, just look through the damn peephole and maybe you’ll catch an intruder,” his friend said scathingly before pushing past him into the apartment. He dropped a blue and green box onto the couch and pointed to it. “Changmin’s gift is in there. You had better get it to him, though maybe you should threaten him with a switchblade, too, while you’re at it.” He shook his head while rolling his eyes. “And what kind of knife is that? It looks like glass—”
Before he could speak another word, Yoochun hurried him out the door. “Ah, don’t worry about it, Jae! Just go home and get some rest. Busy day tomorrow! More recording and singing and all that jazz, so get lots of sleep!” He slammed the door in his surprised friend’s face before letting out a long sigh. That was way too close, Yoochun. There was no intruder. He held up his seraph blade under the light. But why did you glow? You can’t be defective; our weapons don’t exactly have expiration dates. He looked at it closer. So was there really a demon out there in the hall? Hmmm…something tug at his memory, but he pushed it away. Hopefully Jaejoong would leave this particularly embarrassing tale away from the ears of the other members.
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