Riding around the bay at 1am in the morning is incredibly refreshing. It’s amazing how alive and free you can feel. No one else on the road, just you, your bike, the fresh ocean breeze and an amazing view. right behind that white fence is a big drop off cliff with a great beach and views to the other side of the city over the bay.
Situated in northern Gangnam-gu, right along the Han River lies a small section of warehouses; some old and abandoned, others moderately new and used only for storage purposes. In one such warehouse, with it’s worn concrete exterior blending into exposed brick, a lone man waits with his hands and feet bound and his mouth gagged. He observes his surroundings, and notes the layers of dried blood on the concrete floor, with some spots darker than others. Those were the most recent ones and it’s not long before he panics, realizing that he’s going to be contributing to the gruesome painting beneath him.
The row of lights above him do little to reveal anything, and he struggles to distinguish the shadows past the circle of light he sat in. It wasn’t long before the sounds of footsteps reached his ears, and he panicked even more, knowing what his fate would be. The first blow comes from behind, and it’s not one he expects as he tumbles forward, feeling something warm dripping down the back of his neck.
His vision is blurry and he blinks rapidly, trying to refocus as a pair of feet come into his view, the owner crouching down. The cool metal of a gun is pressed beneath his chin and lifts his head upwards, forcing him to look into the eyes of death itself: a Red Dragon.