writeup by Homer
In a surging tempest of escalating gang violence, rabid Wondergirls, Dongbangshinki, SuperJunior, Big Bang, and Girls Generation fans have struck out, and sallied forth shivering blows and splintering attacks upon eachothers' webpages, bodies, and fan-club t-shirts.
As dawn's rose fingers lit the new day this Monday, Wondergirls fans, quick with arrows and fleet afoot, allied themselves with their erstwhile rivals, the stout Big Bang fans, strong with swords and courageous on horseback, and named themselves, "Jets." Ere the Apollo's sun had reached its apex for the day, these enemies turned allies lit upon their hated foes, SuperJunior fans, men and women of tough bones and warlike appearance, Dongbangshinki fans, spearmen and spearmaidens of great exploit, and Girls Generation fans, once raiders from the north, now a noble clan famed in both arts and in battle, late Monday afternoon, stalking PC rooms and roughing up young people with pop band fan club pages open, flaming them online and hacking their Cyworld accounts with internet attacks of vicious strength, and putting water-based paint in water-guns to forever mar t-shirts advertising opposing bands. With their subtle weapons of credit cards and online access, they also bought up tickets to their rivals' bands' shows, and then dumped them, costing the concert promoters' thousands of dollars in lost revenues, and the cry of SuperJunior, Dongbangshinki, and Girls Generation fans, stunned into silence at these startling assaults, flew like Hermes' winged messages, to the heavens.
Late at night, as Phoebe's peaceful light belied the terrors occurring in the streets below, a courier from SuperJunior's fan club, sped his lonely way to the tall towers of Dongbangshinki's Fan Club Head Quarters, and Cassiopea smiled upon his flight. "A pact!" he cried, "though the fleet-afoot Wondergirls fans, mighty with bows and stout in battle, and the hardy Big Bang fans, courageous on horseback and strong with swords, have aligned their weapons against us, our terrors shall not end before we visit back such suffering upon the very assailants who have stirred us to the blood-rage! At this very moment, our messengers carry this same entreaty to Girls Generation's Fan Club Headquarters, hidden in the quiet valley, guarded by scouts, watchful and silent: if we, SuperJunior fans, of tough bones and warlike appearance, join together with you, spearmen and spearmaidens of great exploit, and the acclaimed Girls Generation fans, once raiders from the north, now a noble clan famed both in arts and battle, verily, we shall repel those attacks and set an new order across the heavens of Korea's pop scene. If Zeus decree it, our victory shall be sure, and if it is not to be, never shall it be said that we went down in ignominy, defeated before even defending our honor!"
"If Zeus decree it," said Dongbangshinki's Fan Club President, a waifish girl of small v-shaped face and stern eyes, quick with blades and light as a dancer on her feet, "It shall be done, but who knows the will of the gods? Yet even without his decree, we shall join your clan, the tough-boned and warlike SuperJunior fans, and give stern reckoning to those who contest against us. Let us sacrifice a cow to Zeus, and send a second entreaty to Girls Generation's Secret Fortress, that they should add their strong hand to ours, and their noble foreheads to our battle lines."
Yet ere they could sit down and share a beast on the barbeque, and consume the bitter drink called soju to seal their alliance, a text message from Girls Generation buzzed upon both their phones.
"LOL Gr8 Id-a. We R in. ㅋㅋㅋ. Let our new allied clan be named Sharks" and Poseidon's strength we invoke to turn away the aggressors' swords."
Tuesday and Wednesday, day and night, under Apollo's bright eye and Phoebe's gentle, assaults and defences clashed and shivered through the PC Rooms, streets, and middle school playgrounds of the Han Nation, proud and resilient. Mothers wept and scolded, internet servers crashed, hair was pulled and eyes were scratched. Internet comment boards collapsed under the weight of flames and war machines, anti-fans sent spoilt shellfish to their rivals' heroes' studios, the sky was quiet, better for Aries, god of war, to hear their striving, and he struck his sword upon his shield in delight.
And cameras captured these brutal scenes, the deadly strikes and cruel revenges of these fans and anti-fans:
And from Kangnam out, the battle spread, north to Uijeongbu and south to Cheonan, with Bundang and Mokdong swept away in the wake; Cheonho and Gimpo, too were filled with the cries of stricken mothers and bereaved older brothers and sister, clutching their tattered Seotaeji posters.
And as dawn's rose fingers lit the ravaged city on Thursday morning, two couriers met on the Olympic Expressway.
"Ere the youth of this great nation are wasted," said the first, "Let us settle this pop war in the old way, as the glorious heroes of the past did, to spare the mothers and maybe kinda boyfriends and girlfriends of these middle-school youths."
"Indeed, though Hades' gates are crowded and joyous for their increase in number, here in the land of the living, let us spare further casualties by each side choosing a champion to decide the field."
And so, that day was a quiet peace, watchful and despairing, as both sides took their dead, piled wooden pyres, and poured out soju to honor their dead in the proper ways of their people, and that night, the pyres flickering with coal, the bones of their dead cleaned and properly disposed in the honorable way reserved for those dead in battle, the champions met.
Both gangs gathered, Champion for the Jets on one side, Champion for the Sharks on the other, knives in hand, ready to deal out death, or have it dealt to them honorably. Both stretched their sinews, tight and trembling, itching for action, both bound their hands and fixed their armor, the Jets Champion in leather boots with four inch heels, black tights under a pink skirt, and a faux fox boa, cold for this winter weather, but her armor of choice, and the Sharks' champion, an old veteran of battle, in a knit beret, a ruffly blouse with tight arms, leopard skin santa boots, and black leather pants with buttons up the side.
And blood rose in both armies, watching tensely, as the warriors began their jousting, when suddenly, a red-jacketed man spun into the scene. Whither he came, or wherefore he chose to, nobody knew, and even Juno shook her head in surprise, looking down in surprise upon the curly-haired man.
And high to the heavens, he raised his voice, and as he did, the world stopped, and a kickass guitar lick came out of nowhere. The red-jacketed man spun around twice, and sang these words.
"They told him don't you ever come around here
Don't wanna see your face, you better disappear
The fire's in their eyes and their words are really clear
So beat it, just beat it
You better run, you better do what you can
Don't wanna see no blood, don't be a macho man
You wanna be tough, better do what you can
So beat it, but you wanna be bad
Just beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it
No one wants to be defeated
Showin' how funky and strong is your fight
It doesn't matter who's wrong or right
Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it
Just beat it, beat it"
He spun twice, and addressed the armies, those soldiers lined up, armed, and stout, grim-eyed bristling for battle if need be, but the speedy young man adjusted his red jacket, grabbed his crotch, squealed, and sang again.
And as he sang, Aries, God of War, raised his hand and withdrew his blood-raising will from the streets. The wild viciousness abated, joyful Bacchus, God of Revelry, took the hate, still boiling, and turned it to dancing.
Thin and whirling, the man in red sang more, and finally, Jets and Sharks both let fall their grim faces, loosening them into smiles,
and choreography broke out upon those thronging crowds, the masses of superfans and antifans forgot their grievances and grudges, and at last, Zeus nodded, content that peace had been restored.
For video footage of this barely-averted disaster of gang violence, see here.