Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

male main character

female main character

Kim Sun Hyuk:

Height: 6’2” 

Muscle Type: Lean

Style: Black Joggers, Grey T-Shirt, Hoodies 

Birthday: ??? ( Intel Could Not Gather )

Age: ( Lacking Birthday )

Zodiac: Scorpio

Ethnicity: Korean

Current Location: ??? ( Intel Could Not Gather ) 

Job Occupation: ??? ( Intel Could Not Gather ) 

Relatives: ??? ( Intel Could Not Gather ) 

Net Worth: Estimated At 10 Trillion. 

Sairah Madhani:

Height: 5’4” 

Muscle Type: …

Style: Dependent 

Birthday: July 1st 2006 

Age: 18

Zodiac: Cancer 

Ethnicity: Half Indian, Half Bangladeshi

Current Location: USA 

Job Occupation: Unemployed ( Student ) 

Relatives: Madhani Household

Net Worth: 20 Dollars 

- LOADING - 

- LOADING - 

Game: START 

Chapter Text

Welcome. You are about to embark on the journey of listening to a story told by two very passionate spokespeople… Me and my co-host will take you through a series of emotions, realisations and fantasies. All of them dark. 

Warning, reader. Sink in the dark or swim in a lie. 

-

Sairah’s POV:

Sheets of cotton made useless attempts to suffocate me, taking advantage of my deep lack of sleep.

I rolled around inside of them, the fabric dragging on my limbs in a fight of resistance, keeping my little outburst against the woolly trap contained. 

God, I was going to destroy the world.

The incessant beeping that beside me every morning with a now slightly deformed snooze button was a constant reminder that I had to actually get up and bother to complete the task that everyone called ‘life’.

I came to know of it a little more different to most others. 

The perfect A+ student. A straight record. As many years of my life as necessary. 

Would I be of any use to you if I wasn’t, as a main character brown girl in a book written by a soppy teenager?

But damn, smart ≠ neat. 

Complete piles of thick, heavy textbooks littered what was left of my stacked shelves, the determined wood planks holding them hung on their last hinges and nails, praying that I would get up for once and deal with the disaster of a situation waiting to happen.  

But that could come later.

I have a backstory to offer for now. 

What was I saying?… Oh… Yeah.

My entire life… I was equated to nothing other than a product of seemingly everyone else’s desires.

Well, academic wise.

I had it all.

Every class that I attended ( which likely was any that existed in the school ), I’d leave with a diligent score that would either have my teachers rolling their eyes at how common it was or applauding like they could come to tears.

Sure, I didn’t participate in… debate, nor did I dabble in any… extracurricular activities, but that wasn’t the goal I was heading for anyways. 

I just wanted one thing.

One thing on the planet we have labelled as Earth.

I wanted to become the world’s best doct- 

You thought. 

Hah.

Just kidding.

Don’t worry.

I may be branded with the South Asian mark but I’m not exactly that typical.

For example, let’s take the road back to when I was uh… well, younger.

From the moment I could talk till the second I stopped dreaming, I had so desperately wanted to be a shining star, until the day came that we entered the Nativity play and… well… I ended up the donkey. 

Since then, I did however take another more honourable route which was arguably far more sustainable as well, and I came to the now obvious epiphany, that I just wanted to help people. 

So they didn’t feel like the donkey in the Nativity play. 

Okay, okay… yeah… I pretty much had a similar… identical motive to that of a doctor writing their first personal essay, but the key point to extract from this is, I couldn’t be a doctor because I didn’t want to focus on people’s organs to help them. 

I wanted to be in their minds. 

I could still recall the unfortunateness of the moment, when I had brought a stack of wrinkled papers in front of my parents’ mildly unimpressed eyes, the sipping of their coffees heavy and loud with thick slurps seeming to take noise over the anxious thoughts that flitted in my mind.

I had done a professional illustration of what it might be like for me to assist someone in their mental dilemmas, coming to propose a treatment of talking for the individual, in a comfortable manner.

I drew me, in a chair, a stickman on the sofa as he lied down, and a pen and paper. 

I drew therapy in movies…

Okay, okay, quit the judgement.

What did you expect me to do? I was like 5 and my only access to the world of psychological treatment was kids channels.

“And the pay?” 

What did a 5 year old know about the pay?

I stood back from my father with rapidly blinking eyes, and had to take a quick moment to collect myself, surging through the plethora of categories in my mind for a possible answer that had even the slightest chance of persuading him. 

“People become happy?” 

“No, beta. That’s useless,”

For context, beta means… child but I guess the ending means that it refers more specifically to a boy.

Which I am not. 

But anyways. 

The 5 year old version of me felt an agonising crumble of defeat that spread through her bones as she crumpled up the sketched paper and took heavy steps away, dragged down into the ground by the crushing weight of disappointment. 

And what did that look like to parents?

”Honey, stop smacking your sandals… you’re going to break these ones too.” 

But this time now was something outrageously different.

I was 18.

They couldn’t propel my life choices any further beyond keeping me locked up in one box for the length that they did, and I had already spent my entire life preparing for it to come.

No matter what, I would enter the college of my choice.

I would enrol into an Ivy League… I would and could do it if I wanted-

Oh…

Oh yeah. 

There is something else I should also mention.

You must think I sound like the typical average American right now, yapping on about Ivy leagues and what not with a twinkle inside of my eyes… but in truth, I’m a complete imposter.

Sairah Madhani… is British. 

Was I mocked for it all of my American high school life?

Yes.

Was that life only two solid years?

Yes.

Did it still impact my confidence?

Let’s back out my confidence-o-meter…

Would you look at that?

Yes. It did.

Regardless, I had believed in the good luck of the coming future days. For there were greater scenarios to deal with that required my attention more, and in those same scenarios my parents would also be left heavily distracted, and hence I could plot the rest of my life behind the scenes.

Energy surged through my body at the single thought. 

I rose up with an impulsive boost from my supporting spirit of resilience, gripping for the bedsheets underneath me as I felt my hands click while sitting up, bones seeming to reshift into place as I got out of my stiff, likely unhealthy position. 

My hand slammed down in a precise whack on the beeping rage of a device, and I could only listen as it shook against the table in response, a low, melancholy powering down noise sounding before it decided to shut up and let me continue with my life.

”Are you awake?!”

Ah. Just on time.

My mother’s confusingly loud voice rang across the house from several floors below and I cursed myself for being so dramatic in turning off my alarm, dragging my feet as if partly paralysed out of the bed, afraid to be in the same position after my mother reached our part of the stairs.

Ironically, she was incredibly quick herself. 

”Get up off the floor… Ita kita?”

Ah, my darling mother and father. How they weave the phrases in. 

That’s another thing.

You’ll come to learn in due time that there’s a lot of different words thrown around whenever they’re scolding away, but fear not for long because you have a personal human translator right here.

Ita means ‘This’ and Kita means ‘What’. So… when we swap them around and put a random ‘Is’ in the middle then what do we get?

”What is this?” She repeated a second, much more serious time, staring at me with what resembled a deep regret, like she wanted to go back in time and not give birth to me. 

”Did I take you out my womb or a donkey?” 

Ah, how darlingly affectionate. 

“Get up, and go brush your teeth. Now. And.. have you even showered?”

I felt a profound irritation rise up my spine at her incessant, demanding questions but regardless, I repeated the words ‘I will’ back to back like a broken radio, hoping to get through her not so inner monologue. 

Mummy dearest and Father dearest were born on completely different sides.

My mother came from the country of Bangladesh in an area known as Sylhet, and my father came from Jaipur, India.

On one sunny day, the man had a business trip to attend in a far place, and it seemed the second he landed from the plane, he came across my mother. 

And then, there were 6 of us. 

“Maa! Furzan stole my laptop!” That yelp had come straight from our youngest, Danyal.

The little squirt was only 13 at best but regardless, we all treated him like the last scraps inside of a barrel… lovingly. 

In other words, everything that was his was also ours.

In exchange?

We gave him all the tips and tricks we could to face the world, written in a shared journal between the 5 of us sisters. 

We called it…

‘The SisterHood Manual’ 

“But why am I getting it if I’m a boy?” Danyal protested in a high pitched argument, letting out the little kid groans that he made frequently, venting what little was allowed of his anger by kicking the wall with no strength whatsoever.

See if he did use strength, then he would be in Earth’s version of hell after my dad dragged him there, rather than sitting beside me on the floor.

”Because I said so.”

The most magical words to come out of an older sibling’s mouth.

And yet, the most meaningless. 

As a future therapist, I had experimented on our little Danyal from an exceedingly early age.

He was my helper when it came to absolutely anything, and he genuinely had no clue most of the time that it was him that was being studied, and not the tin can in the corner. ( That made the process of course… a lot more easier. ) 

“And why do you get to say so?” 

“Because if 50 people are from Kentucky and are writing a journal to one man from Texas, do they brand it as being the Texas Journal?”

He was already ready to conjure up a reaction, taking a breath in, his eyes flitting up towards the sky as he sank into his mind. 

”That’s exactly what I thought.” 

The rest of my sisters on the other hand were far more patient than me.

They were responsible when it came to actually building up our Danyal’s character. 

As the middle child, I didn’t have the same powerful virtue as the others to be able to steer into the background and live a quiet life.

Aunties from all areas of South Asia would keep up on me like hawks, their venomous fangs salivating maliciously with prepared attempts to dive in whenever they found an opening. 

They loved, to see if I could fail. 

And sometimes… It did feel like I failed. 

Especially when I woke up later, and got the worse part of the bathroom. 

The sink was begging for my help, on it’s last chokes, covered to the brim with strands of long, textured hair and had nothing to do but to let out a disappointed grunt of frustration, whipping my head around in an instant and scanning all the wide open doors of my other sisters’ bedrooms, searching for any lingering suspects.

”Yah. All of you left your bloody…” I didn’t even bother continuing on with that sentence, and instead got on with cleaning up the growing hygiene issue, opening up the bin after tip toeing across the wet tiles, carefully disposing of the gruesome, slimy contents. 

And then, that’s when my eye caught on it.

A cigarette?

Hidden in a crumpled up piece of tissue?

Like a skilled ballerina undercover, I used my only flexible leg to slam shut the door with my feet, my other leg focused on bending so I could awkwardly make my way back to the bin, focusing in on what was inside. 

This had to be a joke…

Whipping my phone out of the back pockets on my overused joggers, I got to ringing up my darling sister who had left the house in a scramble much earlier in the day.

Hanah Madhani was single-handedly the most adventurous out of us lot, but I wasn’t referring to that of Bear Gryll’s nature. 

“Why are you calling me?” I could hear the grimy obnoxious laughs in the background coming from her stoner buddies, as well as the noises of passing cars in zooms, and just like that I could tell she was up to trouble again.

God forbid, why did she have to be a reckless skater girl? 

“So I should just show Amma your cigarette, huh?” 

A cacophony of noises like her shuffling up to her phone and away from her friends sprang up, all before she got to verbally hushing them. 

I could hear her position the device higher till it made contact against her ear, her voice coming low as if our mother was in the room herself.

”Dispose of it and I’ll give you 2 dollars. You can buy yourself like 100 lollipops.” 

Hanah was only 1 year older than me.

That was the routine of all of us sisters anyways.

We were only 1-2 years ish older or younger than the other in the line. 

In other words, our parents got busy. And fast. 

”2 dollars? You can’t try to scam me like those men who find out I’m British and speak English in India.”

I lowered the volume of my voice as I became conscious of my mother’s incessant bickering through the locked door of the bathroom, her general shouts encouraging me with not so polite words to hurry the hell up and get out, just so my dad could go in and relieve himself. 

“5.” 

“Set it to 8.” 

“10.” 

Gotcha. 

“10 it is.”

”What? No… wait no wait-!”

I had already lost focus, cutting the call and  opening up a gap inside of the second floor window, squinting to peer at the outside.

It was quiet, as usually expected in my neighbourhood.

Sending my own self a prayer of hope for the house to not horrifically burn down somehow, I crumpled up the remainders of the cigarette into the tissue till it was practically broken into shreds, throwing the covered remnants it into the neighbouring garden. 

I then made my way like a sly spy back to the door that was about to break down from the incessant knocking, allowing myself a brief victory dance, all before standing still in realisation. 

“AHHHH!” I was met, to my utter unexpectedness, with the blank, unamused face of my exhausted father, his eyebags swelling up as he let out a breath of indifference.

He gripped my hand in a firm tug and gently guided me out, his footsteps disappearing back into the tiled room before I heard the door click shut behind me. 

At least I threw out the cigarette and left the window open… after all, he was probably going in there to leave toxic excretory bombs. 

“Hey, you!” My mother’s voice rang to me from down the hallway and I watched as she picked up the broom with a single bend down, the distance closing in towards me with a passion.

Of course, I paced away the best I could in that time, avoiding her iron grip by any capabilities.

”Maa! What now?” I let out in dragged tones of pure confusion with my body against the door, eyes widening as I watched her try and wrench the locked handle.

“I told you so many times to iron your dress for the wedding!”

Oh shit. The wedding. 

Ah, that’s right. To all my lovely viewers who were listening along up until this point, I forgot one… slightly more crucial detail.

Our oldest sister was getting married.

The day after. 

Chapter Text

After what had seemed like an endless wait, the eventful day had finally arrived, and that could only mean that for once the Madhani household would be even worse than it stood to be in all of its originality.

Why?

Chaos would ensue.

My mother and my eldest sister would need everything to be excruciatingly perfect.

Stick with me here.

Don’t lose focus now. 

What did that mean?

That everything us 5 other dysfunctional set of siblings did also unarguably had to be… perfect. 

“I want the flowers hanging off here. N-No. No. Actually… separated. Blue can stay over here and yellow can… actually, don’t use the yellow at all. No. Not that blu-“

”Jeez, Amma will you so kindly give the man a single break? He’s practically collapsing off that ladder just doing the movements to get across to where you want him to be.”

I had intended for my words to come out in snapped whispers, but it had seemed they reached the ears I had unintended being loud enough for. 

I paid a sympathetic, gentle glance to the man who was hanging precariously off of the metal that hoisted him up, his expression back to me showing one of gratefulness as he continued to work, silent between the both of us and our awkward talk. 

“Hey. We hire people for a reason.”

I had no choice but to dart her a look of silent begging, hoping she wouldn’t further say anything that was even more ignorant than the levels of harshness that were spilling out. 

“Sorry, brother. Continue, please.” 

I croaked out, wholly embarrassed. 

“Brother… he could be your uncle,” She mumbled to herself unnecessarily, and the man’s lips pursed together into a straight, trying to be unbothered line as he let out what seemed like a small sigh, glancing at himself through the mirror hanging in the hallway at the opposite end, fixing the petals out of his beard. 

She turned on her heel in what seemed like a prayer had been answered by God and took her criticism with her to venture to another section of the house, participating in an entire one sided rap battle with no one but herself to listen. 

I had averted my gaze from her dramatic features meanwhile and was instead drawn back to the work of the effortful man.

He had worn out jeans with holes poked through on and a chequered, average shirt, sweat piling up onto his forehead.

It was understandable.

Getting married in the summer might’ve felt like a joy to look back on in the books, but it was clear that living in it was a hell for everyone who had been involved. 

“Lemonade?” I pulled up the tray closer to his height and offered, my head seconds away from snapping from how far back it was pulled, all in attempts to fully address him.

He paused at the sight, only seeming to let out a small laugh of appreciation before shaking his head at me with a grin, continuing to tie the knots from the collected flowers to the sturdy hooks on the walls.

”Beta, your mother just wants it to be perfect.”

He justified, although I was too stubborn to excuse her character at times like that. 

I knew she was just cranky and nervous over the idea of her first daughter’s wedding, but regardless, it was nice enough and out of his way of him to clear out the air of ignorance that had formed around her, even if he didn’t have any need to. 

“You deserve kindness.”

I froze, my chest dropping a little as I realised he had completely paused his work, hammer not even making contact with the nails anymore as he just stood there, contemplating over what I said.

Was it… wrong?  

“In all fairness, for our culture… That’s the kindest I’ll get.” 

He pointed the end of his hammer towards the direction of where my mother had disappeared down the length of the white halls, all before beginning to nail down again. 

I protested immediately within my head at the thought, wanting to elaborate to him that he didn’t have to let culture define how people respected him. 

But it was useless. What point was it to tell a man who had lived greater than me, and likely already knew of that himself? 

”They could and should be even kinder.” 

And yet still, I tried. 

He hesitated again, a curl rising on the end of his lip as he tilted his head at me, his words coming out slow, to be heard clearly. 

“Yes, but if she was, perhaps you wouldn’t be.”

I had stilled in my mind, like a software broken down, running no more commands.

In other words, I had mentally took a step back from the conversation we were having, my mouth glued shut as I forced the gears in my mind to turn in attempts to understand what he was saying to me.

He had finally finished hooking the final flower for that section and then placed down the hammer at the top of the ladder, throwing a bundle of roses on to the floor and then turning to face me as he reached the bottom. 

“Some flowers have to bloom in harsh conditions. It’s the only way they will.” 

I blinked my eyes further, almost reminiscent of the moment my father asked me for the paycheck that would come with my job, and yet a part of me understood exactly what he meant.

So much so, I was thrown back to my biology lessons. And sure enough, the man knew what he was saying. 

“Now, you should run and see how your poor sister is feeling. The more you stand here, the further back your neck will be bent from craning to look up at me. 

I immediately straightened my posture, coming to be aware of the strain within my neck as it stiffened, my hand reflexively coming up to it and massaging the area there. 

“Fair enough.” I let out, giving the man a wave goodbye and then making my way down across the hall. 

I savoured all the quotes of wisdom that people gave me. They were living lessons, and rewards that came undeserved, all from the fruit of other’s experiences. 

In that moment, I painted a mental snapshot to save of all four walls that surrounded my house. The strings of flowers, the petals on the floor, the stickers of decorations and the incense burning. 

It was all breathtaking.

”Gawk at it any longer and you’ll become part of it, like a mannequin.”

My heart jumped out of my throat.

I flinched to my side and snapped my head to face the silent ninja, delivering a harsh and necessary slap to the side of my younger brother’s shoulder, watching as he recoiled back with a whine, rubbing the area I whacked. 

”You know I get scared easily…”

I let out in a means to justify myself, hand over heart as I worked to still the rapid beating. 

”Of course. That’s why I do it.”

The little troublemaker may have only been at the ripe year of 13, but for his age it seemed like he knew the weaknesses of all of us, whether combined or individually. 

“She’ll be happy, right?”

I stilled with fixing the tight gold bangles wrapped around my hand and instead stood still, the expression of content that was in my face dissolving as I came to see my brother’s pondering look. 

“No, she won’t.”

His eyes were filled with a dreaded disappointment and he focused hard, waiting for me to elaborate further on the subject at hand. 

”She won’t be fine because she has this dumb dumb of a brother attempting to manifest her plight. Stop thinking badly.”

I delivered another more light slap to the back of his head, resisting on the hurting and trying to engage the playfulness out of him. I watched the light curl form on his lip, feeling a sense of relief.  

When he was younger, he would sleep like a baby in my lap.

He was scared shitless of all the horror movies my sisters and I would watch in a row, and so when the rest taunted him for being a pathetic coward for turning away, I’d sneak up to his room at night where I knew he couldn’t sleep.

Instantaneous, in his 10 year old little face I could see the sheer relief as he would run up and grip me by my waist, wrapping himself around me in a tight grip as he sought comfort.

I was 15 then.

And yet, I couldn’t bear to sleep knowing my little brother was in fear. 

“Didi… don’t hit me.” Didi here is an affectionate term for an older sister, and he knew me more by that than he did my real name. If he ever did use my real name to address me, I think I’d kill him. 

“Only if you behave today. Don’t cry too hard in front of her, or she might think about not leaving.”

His eyes sunk down to his feet as they stayed flat on the ground, his arm bumping against mine absentmindedly, and I could tell he was fighting back the urge to release a tear or two.

”Oh dumbo, look at me.” I hooked his chin in my hand and was met with pussy dog eyes that could’ve made me tie her to a chair and keep her for him. The younger ones really do get doted on.

“She’s not leaving us. In distance? Yeah. In spirit and in communication? No. You know how she is… Prepare for a thousand calls in a day, Danyal.” 

The silence thickened between us as he regained his grin, inch by inch, letting me know he was ready to go when he straightened his back again.  

“Now will you go see her, or spend all your time whining about leaving her?” 

His decision came about a second later as his feet got to work, practically racing up the stairs to be able to get to my sister.

I knew she was doing her makeup in a fit of rage over all the mistakes and creased a little at the thought that my brother might make her emotional before she even got it done.

Mascara would likely go running. 

”Hey, idiot!” He halted himself at the middle of the stairs and peered through the railings, rolling his eyes at my insult and awaiting my words.

”If she cries, you’re dead.” 

-

Driving to the venue was something else.

I ended up pulling open the photos of it on my phone, sliding across my screen to view each one over and over, the acre of land regal as ever, a patio adorned in pearl white. 

The wind flitted through clusters of my hair and I fought with passion to tear the thick strands away from my glossed over lips, eventually reaching the conclusion that I would have to place the straightened locks into a tight ponytail to stop it. 

So much for window movie moments. 

“It’s pretty beautiful, we made the right choice.”

My mother stated, as though we hadn’t already been to the venue a total of 5 or more times, each situation being the exact same with my mother carrying a brand new complaint about the locality and quality of the area.

At least now she had shown she could put her problems to bed. 

I tilted my head, leaning towards the middle to be able to see through the front window of the car, and yet I could make only make out the ribbons tied over the car they had rented. 

How was she feeling in there? Was she going to be okay?

-

We were out and had spent a total of an hour stood with fixed smiles whilst the guests started pouring in.

Every one of them had something to point out about my sister and I found myself half wanting to trip them over and half wanting to report back the words to her. 

Who knew backhanded compliments could be so creative? 

The aunties had arrived, the ring leader stood centre at the front, eyeing the place with the same look in her eyes as my one mother upon inspection.

They all had a bad past with her, as she was the one who tried to convince my mother to spend less time with them.

She called them inconsiderate, and hurtful. 

To their faces… 

My mother blamed it on her period arriving and managed to save some face, and the story was never spoken about again. 

Regardless, they had showed up. If there was one thing that was backing my sister, it would have to be the person who she was getting married to. 

When she first introduced him to us, I was sceptical.

A white man with my sister?

I personally had no form of issue with him being white, and in fact I knew deep down from childhood that brown boys weren’t in her wish list.

Yet, i spent countless nights sat on stairs with Hanah, both of us listening as she fought for him, vice versa. 

And the only thing to get them to agree?

He had bank.

CEO of Howlett’s Tissue Roll company.

Now, it might not have sounded like the most admirable achievement to have on hand but that didn’t by any means mean it wasn’t. He had more money than all of us could muster up combined, and that was enough to turn my mother’s head around to face him and open her heart. 

Or her brain… 

And yet, the idea of that seemed to scare me more than anything.

What if all my parents did care about was money? What if that was how far I had to go to find my true- 

I lost all control, my sense of balance slipping from the shove.

My heels were slight seconds from breaking beneath me and bending my ankles from the sheer impact, leaving goosebumps trickling their up my body, my heart about to jump out from me.

I did an entire 180, the injustice of the situation filling my mind completely. My scarf on the other hand had somehow slipped halfway down the length of my back, revealing the openness, the breeze washing over my skin. 

Clearing my throat, I made sure to keep up with the depths and lengths of his arrogant, unshaken steps, my hand reaching out when I got close enough with the intent of latching on to his shoulder. I raised my hand up, cursing how tall he was, trying not to fa- 

“You want something?” His voice was deep enough to spook me, his hands crossing over his chest as she sighed and did a turn, meeting me with an indifferent look on his face. Like I was just being an obstacle. 

“Yes.” 

I waited, straightening my back and letting my hands fall down to rest at my hips. 

His eyes slid down to them, and then the exposure of my stomach, before rising up to meet my eyes yet again. 

“Well, what?”

The absolute nerve of this dude. 

What business did the jerk even have in this situation? I knew he wasn’t part of my sister’s friends, as he didn’t seem to aplead at any part of the guest list as I was making it. 

Unless his name was South Asian, Russian, Scandinavian or African. 

And this man was clearly East Asian. 

“To know what you’re doing here. I want to know why you’re here.” 

His eyes flitted from me and over above my head like I was just a plant in the background, towards the rest of the crowd who were congregating for the sake of the wedding. 

“And I’m answering to who?” 

“Um… duh… The bride’s sister.” I tilted my head higher at his words with the mention of the title , wondering how someone on Earth could sound so stuck up. Maybe there was something shoved inside of his a-

“And what does that mean to me?” 

“Well if you’re here for the wedding-“

”I’m not.” 

My resolve wavered ever so slightly, my bangles dangling down my arms as they removed themselves from my waist, my eyes landing up and down, over the length of his body. 

He was in a suit. 

He rolled his eyes at me, growing impatient of my lack of ability to respond quick, but there was something greater in the reasoning. 

This man was getting late for something. That stride wasn’t confidence. It was efficiency. 

“Now if you’re done-“

”You barged into me.”

I dangled an accusing finger backwards, towards my own shoulder, my expression of defiance stubborn as ever as I paused, pushing the point even further.

Again, my dupatta slid ever so slightly down my shoulder, threatening in the worst kind of a moment to reveal my cleavage. 

I tugged it back up, re-pointing my finger at myself. 

“What is wrong with-“ He stopped himself from proceeding the question any further, his fingers from one hand pinching at the bridge of his nose, acting all bothered like I was the nuisance between the both of us. 

“Just an apology. That’s all I want.” 

His eyes were devoid of any emotion but pure irritation towards me and my unwillingness to back down, posing as a direct challenge to whoever the hell he thought he was. 

He contemplated, and then in an anticlimactic piece, he side stepped me. 

I felt my chances to ‘win’ running out, and so I just blurted out whatever felt most truthful in my mind, turning yet again to face him as he continued on behind me, the same pace and the same purpose. 

”It didn’t hurt me. But if you bumped into someone else… It could’ve hurt them. They could’ve… been more vulnerable.”

His back was broad, and his build intimidating.

I had only really got to notice it when he halted himself, his head still faced towards the crowd.

But I had his attention.

I was left to stare at the back of his deep black, undercut and hair, and then down at his hidden hands as they fidgeted in his pockets, moving across inside of the fabric. 

“Vulnerability is being unable to look past a force you’ve faced and just pick yourself up. It’s seeking that retribution, when you’re the only one holding yourself back.” He tilted his head back, not even bothering to make eye contact with me, his gaze falling on to a plant at the side of us. 

“You’re vulnerable. Don’t separate yourself from that category with everyone else.” 

Chapter Text

I had tried to shrug off that insolent excuse of a man’s words but they had pierced themselves into my mind, shoving into the surface of the folds of my brain. 

What did he know about vulnerability?

And why did he make me out to be pompous when he was to barge into me?

I hadn’t even seemed to notice the way I was sat at a table in the far corner under the shelter, all until Danyal came up to me with an awkward glance, telling me to stop sitting like a 4 year old who was denied Roblox at a gathering. 

Peculiar interaction aside, I had found my gaze stolen entirely by the intricate details that my sister had sewed into the hanging curtains. Gold lined them and shimmered, expertly signalling the arrival of such a princess like herself. 

My eldest sister was the one I had admired most, out of all of my siblings.

I looked up for her since she held down the fort for the rest of us, and paved a way for us to have a greater chance with our parents.

Even if talking to them had sometimes felt like talking to a brick wall. 

Without her, Hanah wouldn’t be as bold.

Without her, I wouldn’t have fought as hard for what I wanted to do.

And without her, Danyal wouldn’t have a better role model than me or Hanah, two flawed ones to look up to. 

And the truth was, I didn’t want for us to be the ideal role models for him, or for our youngest. 

My eyes flutter down to the wine glass in front of me as it reflected my appearance in a shape of deep crimson, and all I could do in that moment was notice how every part of me seemed borrowed. 

I had rounded, doe like eyes that the boys at school used to point out.

To this day, I didn’t know if I should consider it as bullying or not.

They said I kept fishing for sympathy, when really I didn’t understand what they were talking about.

My nose on the other end had a slight hump in it, and growing up that had been the stem of my insecurities, but now I had come to realise how unnecessary it was to even consider it as a negative.

My lips weren’t the plumpest, but as I licked them in the reflection, I noticed how they casted a deep purple. That was one of my favourite features.

Natural, and yet it matched my complexity. 

I had Hanah’s lips, and my eldest sister’s eyes. Danyal and I shared the same nose, gifted from my father. And I carried all three traits with me like they were an honour, never to be underestimated.

I had hoped dearly that one day I could carry this honour somewhere, and become someone of a higher value. Perhaps I could be on news outlets one day, and have hoards of money like they showed on TV. And it would be for helping people. I could motivate and save people’s minds… 

Or was that a far stretch? 

-

“You join us today for the binding of Rumi Madhani, and Ethan Walker.” The priest was stood at the front of the stage, and for a second I came to doubt.

Rumi never voiced being Christian, and my parents likely wouldn’t have approved of th sudden switch either.

This was new.

It must’ve been Ethan’s beliefs then.

”All of us are witnesses to a contract which will forever hold them together by vows that cannot be broken in holy matrimony.” 

The way Rumi gulped at the side made my mind flicker back to a time of greater simplicities, when all we had to worry about was getting our homework done before our mother could take her final steps to reach the second floor and find us. 

“Hanah… you have to do your homework! I can’t…”

I recalled several times when my own older sister would practically break into my room, trespassing just to leave sheets of algebra on my desk.

I’d stare at them with a deep sense of dread.

Why? Because she knew exactly what she was doing by bringing them in front of my eyes. 

She was fuelling the fire. 

Soon enough, she unlocked the pattern that made me do all of her work, and that was the desire that overrode all else when it came to gathering knowledge. 

I needed to be able to know, and understand more. It was what I thrived off of.

Knowing. 

Whenever I had a puzzle in front of me I couldn’t crack by a split second glance, it pulled me in more than anything else.

To not be able to separate the parts and work out how they form the whole… It was a challenge waiting to be completed. 

As for Danyal, the little sod tried a few times, but it was useless. 

He would come begging after watching me do it for Hanah, constantly asking the same question over and over again without fail per visit to my room.

”Why her and not me?” 

And every time, I gave him the same, concise response. 

“Because I’m learning by doing it for her, and you’re not learning by me doing it for you.” 

Simple as.

“We will now begin with the vows.”

Holy shit, how had I practically day-dreamed through half of the words of a priest at my sister’s wedding? 

I sat forward as I shook myself out of the space of my own mind, straightening my posture out and forcing myself to become more alert in the situation.

I felt Danyal nudge me in acknowledgment of my sudden movements and I just dismissed it, telling him I was fine with a gesture. 

“Do you, Ethan Walker, take Rumi Madhani to be your wife?”

Silence scattered around the room as even aunties decided to lower their voices, just to listen.

I could tell they were waiting to feast like a pack of hyenas, sniffing the scent of last minute thoughts and trying to decipher if there was a case of cold feet. 

“Yes, I do.”

Minimal waves of talk, with only a couple pleased voices speaking out. A couple claps.

Expected. 

“And do you, Rumi Madhani, take Ethan Walker to be your husband?” 

I paid close attention to her, my breath stopping inside of my throat. 

My sister was wearing a wedding lehenga that she herself had specifically designed, offering samples of her own ideas with iPad sketched notes and collaborating with the designer.

Ethan after all had enough money for that.

She also had gold adorned on her that shone through the crowd, making her stand out in front of everyone else.

If she had even shifted, lights being reflected around the room would follow her, doing her bidding. 

Her bouquet was made from flowers that were harvested from gardens that grew only the rarest, under the best of conditions.

They were real, and well handled with before she had even been able to wrap her palms around the ribbon that secured them. 

Everything about her was perfect tonight, and despite all the murmurs in the crowd, no one could deny the truth that rang in their hearts.

Surely, they couldn’t be so blind with envy.

And yet still… I found my head shifting to the side as I caught Hanah’s eye, both of us knowing exactly what thoughts were running in our head.

She hesitated.

Rumi, our older sister who somehow always knew everything, for the first time in her life had hesitated before making a big decision. 

“I do,”

Do you, Rumi? 

I knew my sister like the back of my hand, and so did Hanah. We kept the eye contact with one another and in her eyes I saw an emotion that reflected my own. Doubt.

We delivered subtle nods, acknowledging.

Why would our eldest sister pick to hesitate now, out of all the possible moments over the course of her personal life?

Surely this is what she would’ve had to spend the most time thinking about…?

-

My mother was cursed busy, chattering away to a group of older women, all of them being labelled her closest friends and yet somehow the ones who had the snarkiest things to say.

I braved through anyways, grabbing her isolated hand and tugging her along with me, excusing the both of us to the small crowd that she had formed around her. 

“Sairah! Stop!”

The women were still a meters worth away in terms of distance, but their eyes had to fight severely more than anything to be able to pry themselves away from the conversation we were having, watching like a set of eagles and vultures, completely enamoured by us like we were pieces of meat. 

But then again, there was something juicy about the gossip they’d collect from us. 

“Does Rumi really like this guy?”

The question had sprawled out of my mouth before I could hesitate and reshape it into a perfect little bow for my mother to receive, and I watched as her once expression of relaxation shift to that of glaring at me in the eyes like I was a madwoman.

”Are you possessed? Why would she marry him so proudly if she didn’t like him? Pagal .”

I shook my head and ignored her accusations, lowering my voice after catching the continuous glances of the women towards one another, their faces screwing up in realisation as they took note of what I was saying.

“She hesitated, okay? Don’t call me crazy… You saw it. I saw it. Hanah saw it-“

”I’m not here to listen to your pathetic stupidity today, Sairah. I’m here to experience my first daughter’s wedding.”

“Oh my God, you’re clearly not hearing.”

One of the women cleared her throat out in a deliberately loud manner, taking a step forward like she owned the world and all of its riches.

Of course, it was Aunt Holly. It had to have been the brownest aunt with the whitest name.

How else could the story have gone?

She approached with casual movements in her gold lined sari, watching between the both of us with a not so well masked amusement.

“Now, now… don’t fight. What’s the issue?”

Over my dead body would I tell her.

”Excuse me Auntie, this is more personal.” I grabbed my mother’s hand and got ready to tug her elsewhere for further explanations but I was met with a firm resistance. 

I turned, facing her. 

”Sairah… this is embarrassing. Stop.”

I was about to respond, not giving two shits about embarrassment when the topic in consideration was my sister, when a much louder, grating noise came out of the pompous woman beside us.

Ugh, why couldn’t she just leave us the hell alone?

”Is it about your marriage, dear?”

“Excuse me?”

“Sairah! Manners…” My mother squeezed my wrist hard enough to feel like the pressure, warning me to not escalate the situation any further than I had already done.

But she just wasn’t leaving it the fuck alone.

“I’m just saying… you are getting a little… older now. You know?”

Gosh, who called in the pedophile?

I scoffed, failing terribly to hide the pure disbelief that came across on my features, the aunties glancing between one another more heavily now as they followed my behaviour shift.

“I’m 18.”

Come on Sairah, focus and get your mother. 

I tugged, and yet again, no movements.

Fuck, why did she keep on resisting? 

“18 is old enough… Or so, all the aunties think.” 

“Which is why I’m glad none of the aunties are me.”

Oh, fuck. 

I felt a goosebump ripple over as my body processed my words before my mind had come to.

I stiffened, my mother’s grip contorting to become so tight that I winced, prying her hand off of mine. 

I took a step back in my skirt, attempting not to trip in it as I came to see all of the elderly ladies’ changed faces, as if they’d just received the news of the century. 

”What did you say?” 

“I…” 

“Go. Go away. I don’t want to hear your stupid conspiracies anymore… You clearly have no sense of manners in you.”

I felt my blood rise up inside of me in the form of a deep, overwhelming embarrassment, moulded into a sense of anger as my blood boiled, rushing through me. 

“Oh please, you hate all these women. And you talk about manners?” 

”Sairah!”

Slap. 

The noise sounded loud enough to attract a domino effect of faces looking at the scene from all around us, about 100 different eyes searching for mine in the crowd.

All to see what was going on.

I pressed a hand to my face at the reddened section that she had hit without any form ofreluctance, the sting growing as I turned, meeting Rumi’s eyes in the crowd. 

‘What happened?!’ She mouthed, concern gripping her. 

I couldn’t do this shit anymore, I couldn’t.

It was too embarrassing. 

I left the groups of people, my aim for the front door, hearing Danyal get pulled back behind me, calling out my name. 

He was yelling at my mother, rage at watching me get hit. 

-

My feet carried me quicker through the grass than anything else could that day.

In a sense, it was something purely relieving to keep on going as your raging father chased after you through the thickets of the woods, unable to keep up from years of avoiding exercise like it was shameless adultery, his eyes darting away in the mere presence of a treadmill. 

Now I had the upper advantage. 

How fucked was I on a scale of 1-10? 100.

I, the very much egoistic person I had formed by the end of today, had run out on my sister’s wedding and now would be shamefully dragged back.

And that would be on their minds, any time anyone mentioned the wedding. 

I didn’t want to stop, to tell you the truth.

I knew if I did, there would be a greater issue in going back.

I’d be set up for months of hell coming from both of my parents, as well as forced to take up a medicine degree. This, was just the start. 

I was the most embarrassing thing about that family now, and it burned like hell. 

It burned how a 2 second decision came to define me.

All because Hanah and I saw something that seemingly no one else did. 

Even as she mouthed the words to me, I saw it on her face. She knew. We knew. 

So I ran.

I ran like hell.

I ran through the woods.

I ran through brambles and bushes.  

I ran through thick twigs and over branches.

I ran through a body. 

“Wait…”

My head twisted back, fear gripping me in a single second, the stench rising up as I halted, a metallic scent reaching my nose.

My father, was nowhere to be seen.

I had successfully outran him.

But now I ran into the greatest trap there was. 

“What the f-“ 

Chapter Text

Sun-Hyuk’s POV: 

It was meant to be simple.

Execute the mission and then come back in time.

I had everything set up according to how I wanted it, laid out before me on a desk in the underground bunker.

Knives, guns and of course bin bags.

It was meant to be one quick endeavour and then we would shift elsewhere and continue on with the next stage. 

Cairo piped up, speaking rubbish like he always did in my earpiece, going on about some sort of conspiracy to do with Black Corps.

But that wasn’t my focus at hand. 

The operator seemed to be on edge as he read out my mission on the comms, and I knew that had to mean something.

Whoever I was going to find today, would be someone who had no sort of positive value for the world.

Someone who would be easy to drown out the cries of…

Because no one would come looking.

But then again… when was it ever not easy for me? 

Since childhood I knew I was different from other people.

Not just academically.

I excelled, in seemingly anything I did.

That’s what placed me in the agency at first.

But what really captivated them was likely the way I could jam a knife into intestines, watch the specks of someone’s heated blood litter over my face and still twist the end in, lips tainted in dirty, useless crimson. 

And I’d keep them alive at the same time, just for the rest of the information, filtered amongst the screams of endless pain. 

I entered the agency at 16, and I was one of the first.

Of course, that gave me an advantage amongst all others in the hierarchy, but everyone could see it like it was water in an ocean, why every month I belonged up there on that leaderboard. 

But that’s besides the point. 

Fergio Hans.

He had his own developed political party, and yet somehow no one could seem to point out the amount of naked, trembling bodies he had lying down inside of another bunker that was local to our spot.

We hadn’t even known about it, the fucker hiding out a couple acres down.

He was a backbone-less, immoral sex trafficker, and yet the dumbass couldn’t even bother to get rid of his own pathetic, disgusting traces. 

It wasn’t by any means difficult to locate him.

If you followed carefully along the trail that smelt like alcohol and familial disappointment, and the shoe prints for a less than petite man, then you would come to find him, all stupidly placed out in the public. 

Ruling his little empire only at 5’2”, the insecurity at height must have given him a deep, fucked up thirst for women since he couldn’t earn them naturally. 

It was understandable… why they would never want him. He was ugly. He was morbidly obese. He was small. He had the voice of a pipsqueak. 

I made my way through the crowd at this ongoing wedding, cutting through to get straight to the bunker, holding thoughts of satisfaction in my head as I listened to them converse like nothing else.

A huge crowd of people was good.

As long as they all stayed here, and I killed him over there… then it would be fine.

They wouldn’t know, and I wouldn’t have to kill any of them either.

But then, she showed up.

And I bumped right into her.

And I thought ‘Whatever, she didn’t seem to see.’

I had to focus on the mission anyways.

But wait… what the fuck was that? 

I heard flimsy, sloppy footsteps attempting to scurry behind me on the length of the grass, making uneven, hurried crunches everywhere they stepped.

Surely she wasn’t trying to catch up to me in that length of a skirt.

God, she would trip before she even got close.

”You want something?”

I was unable to hold in my own thoughts, the scrunches and click clacks behind me becoming too exceedingly annoying.

How could someone be that offended?

It was just a light bump. 

Her black locks of hair ran down past her shoulders and covered the length of her torso, chopped up into neat layers.

Her eyes, I could’ve sworn that they weren’t real, darting between me and the atmosphere that hung around in the back, pupils all wide and tempered.

What the fuck? 

I settled in for a sharp and swiftly uncomfortable encounter, eventually t moving past and forcing myself to block her face out of my mind.

My only focus was the mission.

No one here could contaminate that.

I was very clear. 

-

Fergio never could disguise himself properly, but instead fell behind like a little boy who sucked at hide and seek, despite his height doing pretty much half the work for him.

Pressed up against a tree, I shot straight through it and let the scream tear in from the other side, crumbled down by the acres of forest land, keeping him to myself. 

“No one can hear you, dumbass.”

I wasn’t even trying to taunt him.

I was just stating the facts for what they were. 

“P-please… Please! I’ll give money. I’ll give women!” 

“I don’t need or want either of those.”

It was so typical for a busted sex offender to even bother trading in the woman like she was part of a card deck, and it made me want to grab the knife that was located behind my thigh, and do my work quicker.

Maybe I’d circumcise him. 

”M-men?” Oh come on Fergio, I’m not gay… but you are?

Bisexual pride, am I right? 

“No, Fergio. I don’t want a man either.”

”T-then what?” 

I let my footsteps lay heavy on the forest ground, breaking twigs as I came closer.

He was like a mutated, unappealing deer, stuck in headlights.

To me, those twigs resembled each meaningless bone that attempted to hold up his weak body, and when I was done breaking them, they wouldn’t have such an undeserving duty anymore. 

“W-what do you-“

”I’ve come to collect your soul, Fergio.”

Damn, I didn’t know the words would roll off like the Korean Grim Reaper, but here I was I guess.

I couldn’t take back what I said.

All I could do was cringe and move past it.

At least he was too petrified to realise, what with the whole, hole in the heart situation. 

That’s amusing. Whole, hole. 

“Cairo, I’m going in.” 

“W-who’s Cairo!?”

The fucker was being nosy.

I pressed the end of my knife up against his throat, leaning down to his pathetic height and watching him gulp, pressing his own self into it like an idiot.

Jeez, if you want to kill yourself then I guess that’s on you. 

“If you struggle any further, Hans, then you’ll come to feel how I spent all morning sharpening this blade, just for you.” 

“Wait… please!”

I hated when they begged.

You got caught for a reason.

Like, come on.

What did you expect?

I can’t even feel a whole lot of fucking things, and yet somehow I had more common sense then these pathetic excuse of  people.

“I want the location of every woman... and man… at that bunker.”

Cairo remained tuned in, and I could hear him trying to navigate it himself on the other end of the line.

But hey, it was nothing I couldn’t coax out. 

I had my ways. 

“Come on,” I urged, watching the life in his eyes begging to not be put out.

Here came the same internal battle they all go through. 

“They… they…” 

Fuck this. 

“I’ve got a knife pressed to your neck right now and you choose to stutter? My friend right here…”

I pressed with taps at my earpiece and made it visible to him, although it felt like talking to an imbecile of a child, what with me leaning down.

“He’s seconds away. Seconds, Fergio. And if he gets there before you, then you’ll get on to my kni-“

”God! East of here… It’s e-east of here!”

I met the unleashed, unbridled fear that coursed through his eyes in the form of crocodile tears and numbed out his face, his mouth left ajar as he stood there, petrified. 

I got up off the floor, dusting my knee caps and taking a breath to myself.

Another day, another mission successful. 

I let the knife cut through till it was stuck wedged inside of the tree, Fergio’s head on top and his body severed underneath, slumped down to the ground, blood spewing out in all sorts of places at the site of his fat neck. 

”Target has been disabled.” 

Snap.

My eyes shot up in an increased sense of awarenesss, landed in seconds on the location the noise came from, and I was met with a familiar, unfortunate figure.

But every part of me was filled with dread to see her.

She was crying out so bad tht the effortful wedding makeup she had done so nicely over her eyes dripped down on to her cheek, painting her face like a piece depicting the Great Depression.

Her steps were wonky and asymmetrical, every couple one finding herself about to fall back. 

I let myself approach her, slowly.

It’s not like she would’ve got any faster.

She was immobilised by fear. 

“Come here.” 

She didn’t say a word, but kept on pushing back with her eyes plastered on to me likeI was Satan himself, tear filled eyes dropping down every now and then to the bloodied knife I held. 

Disposing of two bodies was a fucking burden, and yet now I found myself in a slight predicament.

”Sun-Hyuk! There’s someone around you.” 

“Well done for pointing out the obvious, Cairo.” 

Her eyes flitted back up to my earpiece and then down again to my leg knife, the leather holder wrapped around my thigh.  

“L-let me go.” I wasn’t even holding her. 

“Come here. I just want to talk.”

What’s a little white lie? 

“N-no!”

Now she was yelling, and it was really beginning to mess with the strings in my head.

”Shut the fuck up.”

I didn’t know a face could sink even deeper in fear but clearly she had mastered such a capability, her steps increasing backwards in speed now, panic surging through her body as she realised I’m not Mr Patient. 

I paused, sighing to myself and watching, almost pitiful. 

It was merely a scramble out to grab something and a dip as she fell in, letting out a final yelp for help before the river running around us took her for a different course.

Human beings were interesting.

Merely seconds before she looked at me like I was the devil and now she stared like I was God, reaching her arm out for me to collect it.

I watched her black locks turn straight from getting wet by the water, and her hand continued to raise with those gold bangles attached to them, glimmering in the distance. 

With those currents, she wouldn’t make it. And she was out of my way. 

And yet… 

I turned back, undoing the buttons on my blazer. 

Chapter Text

I was back at base with Cairo typing away on his keyboard and the remains of Fergio’s dead body, stacked up in a bag in the corner.

The stench was a little wire poking in the back of my head, and made me want to throw him out through the back, but alas even his parts were more important than him as a person.

I waited, hand wrapped tight around the neat knot of the bin bag as I slid the other into my pocket.

Fumbling, I extracted a thin piece of crumpled paper and pulled it out, examining.

A receipt.

From the diner where I had bought my breakfast. 

“Can you take me next time?” I didn’t even have to lift my chin to shake my head at him and his look of desperation, instead choosing to accept listening to the  mumble that came out of him about how unfair of a team leader I was.

The kid was the newest addition. 

Cairo Bellami was a child to an average family living in Italy, in a neighbourhood that ranked at 5 from 1-10 in terms of danger.

I read through his report the first time I had heard he would be a part of my squad, and immediately I refused.

At age 16, he would be sloppy.

I didn’t need that on my team. 

The board however overruled my objection and shoved him under my nose, with the excuse that I could teach him all he needed to know. 

“Quit bothering him. It’s bad enough having to carry that scumbag in plastic.” 

That was Don.

Don was the heavy weightlifter of our group, and the backup I had in case I needed him. Unfortunately, I proved to be quite successful in most of my endeavours and hence I didn’t actually end up needing Don.

That’s when he became the cargo lifter and the mechanic around the team. 

As diverse as we were, Don was the most remote of us to our operations.

He lived his entire life in the US and was recruited as soon as he got out of the military, receiving an award for bringing home 5 injured men on his own from a war, despite being riddled with severe PTSD. 

“This guy stinks like shit.”

And that was Owen.

Owen was hired from the UK and he spent all of his day working within the base as our weapons source.

And by that, I mean that he built all of them himself or would get it from trades done with the branch of the company that had focused in on that area. 

I delivered Owen a nod of support for his words, wrapping the bag just a little tighter to not allow any further airflow. 

But man, he needed deodorant. 

In truth, I was mostly fine with the stench.

Yeah, I disliked it like anyone else would.

But with the amount of dead bodies I’ve bin bagged and kept hidden away in a corner, it was no surprise why I was able to forget about it. 

It was like raw meat before cooking to me now. 

“Damn, did he even shower or wh-“

”Cairo. You’re not the one holding the dead body. Go play on your PS5 or something.” 

It wasn’t that I didn’t think Cairo was capable. 

It was that I thought someone like him shouldn’t have even been here to see this shit. 

He left the room full of attitude with a changed demeanour, taking long, bored steps away.

There were things I was introduced to at 16 that would’ve affected Cairo far more than me.

This wasn’t just a hyper realistic video game.

He had to understand the way we worked, and I had to get him used to it.

The day he entered my car in the sizzling heat of that neighbourhood, the boy stepped out in flower shorts and I knew in my head that a lot would have to change since then. 

And it did.

He kept up with everything I asked of him with no sort of refusal or rejection, and yet I had always felt like he wasn’t ready. 

But that being said, I could still make him ready. 

-

The three of them ended up slouched like a heap on the cheap sofa we had bought, a screeching fan blasting towards their faces as noises of shooting and punching came out of Cairo’s Nintendo Switch.

Don pretended like he was completely uninterested by it but his eyes painted another story as he kept on flitting them over to watch with every second the device let out the noises of “Round Won!” 

“He’s always late.” 

Owen began to massage into his face wrinkles with his dirt coated fingers, leaning far forward so his elbows were propped up on his knees, letting out a grunt of impatience towards Florian’s constant lack of arrival. 

Florian Epine was a man who belonged in the hospital, and yet due to his record breaking skills in patching wounds and the level of respect he gathered in his field for completing low success rate surgeries, the agency had temporarily stolen him for the sake of how many infections we gathered, as well as the deaths of my comrades.

That ‘temporarily’ had turned out to be a lie in Florian’s case, as he ended up staying for much, much longer.

Don and Florian were the men I had come to know the most from years of training with them and being placed into the same units, and through that I came to know exactly what names to put down on the list when the agency wanted for me to build my own team.

We were a successful trio, and yet we began to grow to a group of five.

If I’d have known that group of 5 would mean we became the most respected within the agency and it delivered the most awards, I would’ve gone to a psychic and paid a penny for them to convey that to me far earlier in another dimension.

But speaking of the devil...

Florian burst through the door like no other, the coat of sweat dripping down from his forehead acting as a staple that we came to recognise as being part of the result of his quirks.

Owen’s hands were pried from his face in seconds and he delivered an unimpressed look, waiting to let the man could look up from his exhausted stance, panting like a dog from all the running he must have done to get here. 

”I weighed him. He’s around 58.”

Florian’s head shot up in seconds to look at me, still panting and I let him further gather himself, processing the information I just delivered. 

”Pounds?”

”Oh, I was using kilograms.”

He went back down in defeat with his hands placed on his knees, huffing like a dog, bent forwards just to deliver a thumbs up with an extended hand.  

I dropped the bag back down on to the floor and watched as Cairo’s face changed to one of cringing, the sight of the blood leaking out making him look queasy, despite his best attempts to hide it.

”Nevermind.”

I breathed out to myself, grabbing the container of gruesomeness again and then placing it down besides Florian, on the other end of the room. 

“If we’re going to dissect him and sell his parts, I’d rather we start now than later.” 

When he was fully able to breathe again and the sweat had been wiped off of his forehead, Florian placed down the wet tissue into the bin we had and straightened his back, massaging into it with a screwed up expression of confusion.

”And the girl?” 

Oh yeah, well shit.

The girl. 

Chapter Text

Sairah’s POV: 

I woke up, burdened with a pounding headache, groans slipping out of me as I winced, rolling around, whatever beneath me harder than usual. 

“Mum!”

No response.

Of course, she must have been knees deep in hoovering.

And why did I sweat so much? 

“Mum!” 

Again, no response. 

The light of the room had pierced through my eyelids, letting me see an orange like hue, causing me to shield away as though like that of a vampire. 

I finally decided to take matters into my own hands, my eyelids twitching and scrunching, all before I worked up the energy to open them and reveal my environment, bit by bit. 

“What the fuck!?”

I scrambled the second I processed the landscape before me, my eyes flickering between the different components of the room, not recognising a single thing before me.  

I was surrounded entirely in concrete, grey walls, stains littering at the sides, nothing else present in the room but that of a singular chair, propped up in the corner.

“Fuck!”

I groaned, my eyes tearing up from the sheer pain as I gripped away at my leg, regretting trying to yank myself out of the sorry excuse of a bed.

A chain?

A mother fucking chain tied to my ankle?

I let myself recover, wiping the tear away in  rushed action, mascara coming on to the back of my hand before I tugged again at the metal, , shuffling back on to the bed and then grabbing fiercely with both hands.

I yanked, hoping that the rowing of my whole body backwards would create a better force.

Alas, nothing shifted.

What good was it to bother trying when I was merely 45 kilograms, myself? 

But then that’s when my eyes seemed to finally direct themselves over to the rest of my body.

Oh, oh fuck no.

Where the fuck were my clothes?

Why was I dressed in fucking dude clothes? 

Then, a gasp slipped out from my throat, all fear seizing me as I stayed there, frozen, eyes widened as I felt sweat rise up on my back, growing more alarmed by the second.

The fucker stole my mother’s golden bangles. 

“Who the fuck!?”

I used the rage that had gathered in my body in a pit of despair, screeching out words of frustration, beginning to rattle the chain again with hopes that the Hulk-like anger would give me a boost of strength.

Express, just like in my drama classes.

Express, I did. Heavily. 

“Are you trying to break the chain or yourself?”

My natural response was to scoop myself up into the wall, colliding with it in a bruising manner as I scanned the room, confused to my core at the noise of a man, stopping only when I came to see that familiar figure, stood in the corner of the room closest to me, in complete silence.

His hands were shoved far into those pockets of his, a posture I was coming to associate now with only him, black joggers chosen with a grey shirt, contrasting that of the suit I had found him in earlier. 

Oh fuck, this man was a murderer. 

He took a single step away from the concrete wall, my hand still trying desperately with the chain, all despite my eyes being unable to waver away from his.

As he passed each reflective tile on the floor, the light began to illuminate his features even further, and my struggle became more useless by the second. 

Don’t be stupid. Don’t scream. They never hear when you scre-

Of course, sometimes you can’t fight the human instinct.

And fuck, he towered over me. 

I let out a screech that could’ve torn down glass houses, far more high pitched than when I found out i had lost the spelling bee at my school, this time making sure to let my voice reach its highest decibels, eager to let any living soul alive who could, know. 

That however lasted merely a second or so in a humiliating manner, all until I was forcefully pushed back down into the mattress, his hand smelling of nothing but that man’s blood as I fought the violent urge to gag, helpless as he kept on pressing down on my mouth until eventually I stopped producing any sound at all. 

In his eyes, I saw something inhumane.

My whole life, I had lived with the preconceived notion that you’d find even a shred of humanity in all sorts of people, but now I had come to learn that mindset was nothing but ignorance.

Pure ignorance.

I was in front of the devil himself, and now he was shushing me. 

He kept his filthy, large hand pressed against my mouth with complete ease, even as I fought by clawing him with my free fingers, attempting to get my long nails to pry off some of his skin so he could at least stop suffocating me. 

The attempts were nothing short of futile, as he had shown that he wasn’t even phased, going as far to ignore my desperations and instead pick up his ringing phone, pressing it to his ear, holding me there like I was a daily occurrence he went through. 

I didn’t even change his expression.

I didn’t make him struggle. 

“Yeah?… He’s cut up in a bag… No… I’m disposing of him by the shredder, not cremation.” 

As if by reflex, my eyes watered up again with sharp stings that I couldn’t control, tears spread down my face.

I felt the pain as my vision of him blurred, left to see nothing but the print of his hand pressed down on me and his stupid eyes narrowed down at me like I was a bug on his windshield, an insignificant inconvenience to deal with. 

My tears dropped down on to his skin, dissolving onto the surface. 

Eventually, I stopped prying aimlessly at his wrists and instead began to have a try at his fingers.

I felt the wetness of my cheeks build up as I attempted to push back at least one of them, yanking back with my nails.

His eyebrows furrowed at me, and he pulled the phone away from his ear, angling it down at his mouth. 

”Hang on.”

The phone cut seconds later and I felt a deep sense of regret, realising that his attention on me fully was like hell, and despite his hands releasing themselves and letting me breathe again, I had wished I’d stayed put till the end of the call. 

”Please… Please just let me-“

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” His hands had slid down to my neck as he squeezed significantly harder with every word, not bothered by the panic that surged through me, blinking rapidly in wonder if this would be the end of my lifeline. 

“Now will you shut up and let me finish my call?” 

His voice was more impatient than anything, and the stench of blood was too nauseating to bother protesting against him. 

I just needed some time. 

To really think about what the fuck I was going to do. 

I nodded my head the best I could, following his features with my eyes as he smoothed them down again and pressed the phone back up against his ear, his grip on me stilling a little, just enough to let me breathe. 

His entire hand could cover the whole surface of my neck, pinning me down. 

Fuck, I should’ve chose to be the laughing stock of the family. 

“No… we performed an autopsy but… no substances. None of the FD2 was found in his body either.” 

What the fuck were these terms? 

I listened with intent on keeping all the words in my memory, although in my head a hundred thousand other thoughts were begging to be heard amidst his casual, calm voice.

What if my family never sees me again?

What if I die?

What if I ruined the marriage?

What if he puts me into a fucking shredder-

“Was that so fucking hard?”

I blinked, my eyes still widened, eyebrows close to knitting together as I remained almost lifeless underneath him, mouth screwed shut, looking up at him as he kept going, pissed. 

“Was it?” 

“Was it really that fucking hard to just sit there and not claw at me like some fucking animal?” 

I blinked again, another tear sliding down my cheek, landing against his finger yet again. 

Finally, he let go of me completely and wiped his hand on his shirt, standing off the bed, allowing me to crawl back into the corner, against the wall, as far away from him as I could possibly get. 

I was counting the seconds in my head as I physically recovered from all the strain, his attention lowered back to the phone in his hand as he didn’t even give the time of day to acknowledge me, instead choosing to leave me in the dark, sending texts to somebody.

”W-where are the bangles?”

Fuck, Sairah. Now?

He lifted his head up and I watched his phone turn off simultaneously, the illuminating glow disappearing as his arms folded, the man stood over me, watching.

He knew damn well he was the one with power right now, and I hated it.

I knew there was something fucking wrong with this dude. 

“What bangles?”

I couldn’t tell if he was faking his lack of a clue or not, but then again would he have ever said he did know?

Those were worth fucking thousands… and if he was a murderer it was likely he didn’t even have a penny bank. 

“Oh so the fairy just took them off my wrist?”

I bit my lip back as soon as the words came out, disappearing deeper into the corner as if physics could just make me slip through it. 

Calm down, Sairah. You are talking to a murderer. 

His expression shifted, a mix of surprise as he grew more intolerable of me, his gaze raised up to the sky, letting out a breath that spoke volumes of his wanting to kill me.

”I saved your life.”

And took another's…

But then again… why save my life?

Why not just let the river take me?

Unless… he just wanted to be sure I was dead. 

“Oh yeah, I bet you did.”

I crossed my arms over all defiantly, cursing myself internally for choosing to have such a stubborn nature, pulling strands of hair out of my face and rubbing my cheeks vigorously in attempts to get rid of the wet patches there of tears and snot. 

He moulded his facial expressions to change to that of bewilderment at me like I was the definition of stupid, his mouth coming to open up in shock. 

“Are you fucking dumb? Obviously I fucking saved you, otherwise how would you even be here? How would you be talking like this shitty smartass?”

“Because you’re sadistic!” He pulled back from me with a step, turning around in a swift movement and giving a second to compose himself, hands rubbing over his face, acting like I was the one being inconvenient here.

But fuck, it wasn’t like I was locked up in chains by a murderer. 

Way to point out the obvious, I guess.

”Oh and now you’re going to go on about how I’m some sort of devil too, right?” 

“Yes.” 

He continued to stare at me like I was fucking unbelievable, as if I was being irrational or insane. 

But hey, it’s not every day you see someone’s head separate from their body.

My gaze flitted down again to the white shirt that was wrapped around me, and I crumpled up a part of it in my hands, yanking it in a gesture to drag his attention towards it. 

”Who did this?” 

No response.

He just kept watching me with rolled eyes before going back on his phone, not willing to spare even a second longer towards me. 

“Can you just put the fucking phone down?”

Oh God, he was actually doing it. 

Oh God, I was going to die because I played ‘mum at dinner wanting to socialise’ with a fucking murderer. 

Oh fuck, he looked pissed. 

I let out a whimper of protest as his hand latched around in a firm grip, yanking me by my foot off the wall, forcing me to lie there in front of him on the end of the bed.

Oh God, he’s a murderer that wants to get on top of me. 

Even fucking worse… 

“If you speak one more fucking time, I will use this…”

He pulled out the same knife from his back pocket, glinting it at me, waiting for my reaction of pure fear as a signs for him to keep going.

“To cut off each of your fingers individually. And then I will make you sew them back on yourself. Then I’ll cut off your whole hand. And we’ll repeat the full process, until you bleed so much your body gives up and dies. Okay?” 

I nodded, and yet I felt the pounding in my brain return again, praying to God that he would let go of my foot any second now, and at least back away. 

But oh fuck. 

I leaned forward and got ready, practically hyperventilating, feeling it rise up in my throat. 

Oh… fuck.

I opened up my mouth, feeling my insides pour out of me, noises sounding as I heard it splatter on the floor, my eyes only opening to see that I had a horrific aim. 

”Did you just fucking throw up on me?” 

Chapter Text

Sun-Hyuk’s POV:

I should’ve let that fucking river run its course.

Now I was stood in front of this absolute liability, with vomit layered all over my chest and seeping into my skin.

Her hands were on me like I was some fucking pole for her to lean on, and I could do nothing but glare down at her with nothing but pure resentment in that moment.

”Did you just fucking throw up on me?” 

She finally lifted her head up and I cringed at the sight before me, my cheeks rising as I looked away in disgust.

If it wasn’t bad enough to get a glimpse of her under-eyes painted black by the makeup that had dripped on to her cheeks, I felt like I was staring at the world’s most grotesque mess.

I could see the liquified food dripping down her chin and it irked me to see how fucking clueless she looked. 

“You just fucking threw up on me.”

I didn’t even know what the point of repeating it was, since clearly all she was going to do was look up at me with those eyes, nothing but her chest moving up and down in pure fear, her hands growing all weak and shaky on my knees. 

“I-I… You made me throw up.”

Oh right, like I’m some sort of fucking houdini.

I’m the one that went inside of her fucking throat and miraculously lifted the food out.

”You know what? Sit in your fucking throw up.” 

I yanked off my shirt and pulled it over the top of my head, throwing it at her, the fabric landing on to her own face.

She grimaced as the vomit stained her and her chest, deflecting it beside her and then sitting back with a look at me like I was the one who had the audacity. 

What kind of fucking survival instincts? 

”I should've let God take you on the course you were fucking destined for… but no. Now I’m covered in your digested food.” 

I didn’t know what rattled had my skin more.

The fact that she was just sat there blinking and not even saying a word, choosing now out of all times to follow my orders.

Or the fact that she could sit there and look all innocent, like she didn’t just projectile at me and land her shots, painting me in her shitty fucking toxins. 

“Y-you…” 

“Shut up. Not a single fucking word more. Now fucking sleep in that.”

I pointed a finger at my damp shirt, signalling for her to sit there and think for some time about what she did, like directing a clueless fucking child. 

God, she was a burden. 

She kept repeating the word “please,” as I turned around, panic hitting her as she realised I was her only human contact, the chains heard tugging behind me. 

I paid no further attention, slamming the door shut behind me, fucked up into a sour mood, twisting the key in the slot. 

Then, I turned, facing the rest of the bunker. 

All of them were staring at me.

”What?” 

As if mentally dispersing, they went back to their individual tasks, only one of them having the guts to say a word. 

Don was the first to speak, his finger pointed at the door. 

“She uh… she vomited on you?”

God if the torment could be even worse. 

“Yes, she did fucking vomit on me.” 

Owen was next.

He nodded his head at the stinking mess I was, and then looked at my exposed upper half, his mouth opening to speak as he inhaled the air.

Everyone glanced at him, waiting. 

“You should take a shower. I can uh… I can smell the uh… the food she had.” 

Are you fucking kidding me? 

“All of you are grown men who have seen me covered in blood. And you can’t handle vomit?” 

This time even Florian pressed a hand to his nose, and I thought that I had to have been growing crazy for sure. I was trapped in a room full of imbeciles. 

How is a doctor grossed out by any sort of body fluid? 

“All of you need to man up. It’s not chemical poison. It’s vomit.”

I left the room with those final words, letting out the deepest held breath I could, attempting to find peace in the sanctity of a long, long shower. 

-

By the time I had come back out of the steaming room, I was met with faces that kept making eye contact with me and then back and forth between each other, over and over again, as if they were all too shy now to communicate. 

Regardless, I maintained my composure and decided to ignore the obvious elephant in the room.

We weren’t going to discuss the girl.

We were going to discuss-

“Boss what do we do with her?”

Oh for the love of God, Cairo.

“Yeah… we can’t just hold her there locked up forever.”

Like I don’t know that Don.

“And… no one told me she was British. She sounded British.”

Now isn’t the time for a national representation, Owen.

I couldn’t have given less of a fuck about her being British. 

”If she’s vomiting, perhaps we’re being too harsh.”

Harsh?

Harsh, Florian?

You watch me torture people every single fucking day. 

“Can all of you choose to fucking gather yourselves for even a second?”

They glanced down at themselves in a moment of embarrassment at my scoldings, catching how distilled they sounded for such a minor case. 

We were a group of fucking agents. 

”She’s a girl. Not a missile.” 

“But… if headquarters finds her here…” 

“Okay, I’ll kill her by tomorrow.”

I paused. 

Typically, the words had left my mouth will full confidence and truth, and yet this time I found myself simmering into the silence, the image flashing before my mind. 

To see the light leave her eyes…

What the fuck made it so different? 

“She’s… innocent.” Cairo’s eyes had grown so large that I had to look away from them to avoid smacking him for showing that level of empathy, and instead I ended up trying to piece together what to do in my head.

”Okay, we drop her off in Slovakia.”

They blinked at one another, uneasy. 

“Does anyone else have a better plan?”

Ahh, my favourite.

Silence. 

How telling. 

“If not, then I suggest we… we should just keep her here for the time being.” 

Even I found myself fumbling over what decision was best to make. 

What the hell did someone do with a teenage girl they kidnapped?

If not fuck tons of horrible shit? 

I was a man that grew up knowing things that a lot of humans never end up experiencing.

Diffusing a bomb, learning about the value behind which people in a situation to save, solving maths equations at a level even university students couldn’t… I didn’t want to sit there and brag but it would be lowering myself to say that I didn’t have more adequate problem solving skills than most. 

Of course, my agency had to have seen the potential for those features when they scouted me, and in turn they helped me develop.

I did fail, at points.

But for every failure I would succeed at the same task, and do it even better than others the next time.

But this girl?

If only she hadn’t run into the fucking woods.

I mean honestly, who the fuck is stupid enough to do that? 

“Are we going to feed her?”

Everyone turned to Cairo as he said it and then back to me like a herd of sheep, seemingly all losing sense of logic, and it was in this moment I felt the uncontrollable urge to slap a hand to my face in shock at how stupid my members could be at times.

“Do you think we’ll feed her?”

I shifted my stance, crossing my arms over as I straightened my back, addressing all of them now in the question. 

Guess it was time for a team lesson. 

“Y-yes?” 

“That’s great. Then we’ll feed her… You wanna know why?” 

Now they were all hooked on and with each second I found myself wondering if we were completely doomed, for once.

”Because… you can’t keep something alive without fucking feeding it.”

Chapter Text

Getting rid of Fergio was nothing but the first step.

There was still far more to come, and yet so little time.

I knew that rationally my team and I could do it, but I found an internal doubt over if any setbacks could rise up. 

On his dead body was a tattoo, faded but I was sure as ever over the connection. 

A praying mantis with a lotus flower underneath it. 

As someone who used to belong in the sniper field, I found myself eliminating many people who had harboured the same tattoo, landing with their arms uncovered, displaying it proudly even in their final moments.

I then decided to ask my superiors what it signified, but I was left to myself when they reported that the reason why they had asked me to focus in on those people, is that they themselves were not sure what it could mean. 

“It’s a way of branding them.”

Cairo on the other hand knew a lot about online and offline cultist behaviour, and it was all down to his overexposure to the dark web before he could even solve algebra.

He knew almost everything you could think off from A to Z, involving that of online laundering accounts and red rooms. 

“Could you find it?”

I watched that smug expression on his face shape into an expression that conveyed confidence in his well developed skills, all as he put on a wide grin, sitting back in the gaming chair I bought him after his incessant pleading and cracking his knuckles.

”Already did.” 

The Lotus Mantis.

A group of criminals who had banded together in a twisted and fucked up alliance to create the largest market, indulging in all sorts of acts for the sake of generating an income that everyone dreamed of, religiously. 

Almost every person on the watchlist for my agency for online suspicious activity had dealt with them, leaving behind traces. 

Cairo had explained to me how the typical hacker would’ve never noticed the suspiciousness of the page, and that instead he had to go through deep security just to be able to see past the veil. 

His address had even been sought out, merely milliseconds after being able to break through, but luckily we had precautions set up in place.

Thank God for security sponsors. 

Scrolling through, I let my palm rest on the back of his chair as he showed me through the different sections.

Sex trafficking, gore, rape, banned and illegal drugs, poisons, torture machines, terrorist activities…

I found myself rendered unable to say that they weren’t skilled.

They were.

”Sex trafficking isn’t even the most popular here.” I glanced at the numbers listed under each heading.

Sure enough, he was right. 

‘Creating Fun Girls’ was the heading, if that wasn’t pungent enough, the views under it was minimal at only 4 billion. The greatest visited part of that site was something that made me stand fully upright, and I knew I had to place a call when my eyes laid on it. 

-

Cairo followed me through into the empty room down in the bunker, and we could still hear the laughs coming from Don repeatedly beating Owen in a rigged game of Blackjack.

And yet, nothing had seemed to be fine anymore. 

“Please select the number for the extension.“

I skipped the listed out offices and went straight for a 6, the beep sounding in a high pitched manner as Cairo stood, biting his nails till they were dipped under the tip of his finger beside me, all as we both waited. 

I needed my superior to pick up quickly so that I could convey the news and someone at headquarters could begin to actually file a case on this. 

How could it have gone unnoticed for so long? 

“Agent S1.” 

“Haddock.” 

I could hear her silence on the other end of the line and I waited, but when I knew she wouldn’t speak up, I proceeded. 

“I need you to note down what I’m saying.” 

The shift of a book, and the clicking open of a pen. 

“Lotus Mantis. Heavily protected…” 

I hesitated for a second, glancing over at Cairo’s wide eyed, child like expression and then back at the table in front of me.

”Nuclear Weapons.” 

I heard the pen stop, dropping to the side as she processed over the phone, taking it all in. 

“Haddock?” 

“How bad?” I glanced over at Cairo for a better understanding, watching as he shook his head at me, not able to use his fingers to convey. 

“Level 5 threat.” 

“I’ll report it.” 

I stayed on the line and for what seemed like the longest amount of time all I could hear was the shuffling of papers and the whisperings behind the phone, from worker to worker as they scrambled together. 

How could something so important slip under? 

How could no one know it was even a site in development? 

Cairo gasped out a breath and my eyes snapped towards him instantly.

Hands failing to not to shake, he stiffly turned the phone he was holding towards me.

The Peru Incident.

Half a million civilians dead, and it was passed off as a missile shot during the war present at the time there.

And yet, the opposing country kept denying shooting a missile that powered.

Even the president came out with a speech standing against the use, and the rest of the world just decided to call him a liar.

Since then, that country had been strictly supervised and others began to place their hold on the land. 

“Cairo, what country was that again?”

He looked to me, and at a loss, he shrugged his shoulders.

Whatever, that wasn’t the most important thing right now. 

They threw a missile in, during the height of a war… all for the sake of testing it out.

And what was the trigger? Likes placed on a live stream.

”Listen to me now.” 

My head faced the phone again as I pressed it up against my ear, hearing the cacophony of noises in the room on the other end simmer down as my superior began to speak up. 

“I need you to find out what they’re planning towards. Keep your focus online, on the website. This seems to be very crucial” 

“Haddock, they…” 

My mind blanked, a realisation flicking through. 

“Yes?” 

In that moment, Cairo looked at me and waited.

But years of experience taught me something crucial. 

You had to know when to hold back.

”Nevermind.” 

“You sure?” 

Cairo prompted me in a direct whisper, his eyebrows shifting together as he looked at me with an uncertainty.

”I’m sure.” 

And with that, the phone cut. 

-

Merely minutes later I had the entire team gathered in front of me.

I let all of them quieten down in their own discussions about our discoveries, and instead I chose to formulate my words during that time period. 

My hands came to rest on the table behind me and I felt the medical sheets that Florian had laid down, the fabric sifting under my fingers.

“I have a concern.”

Owen shifted at my words and shifted his position as he sat, hand holding his head, glancing at everyone else before turning back to me.

”And… it revolves around our agency.” 

Don took a step forward, his jaw coming open as it hesitated, words finally formulating. 

“A problem in the agency?” 

My mind flickered back to the conversation.

And this had just pieced it together.

”Yes.” 

Florian continued to wipe down his equipment as if it was a coping mechanism, taking a few seconds to glance up every now and then, waiting for me to continue on and elaborate further. 

“I never told Haddock they operate online, let alone that it was a website.”

Now they were really stiffening.

I didn’t like liars.

Nor did I like listening to and obeying liars.

Something that I had seem to have done for years now.

Reporting to the same person who seemingly has been betraying us.  

“They could’ve found them at the same point as you guys.”

Owen bothered to excuse, but in his eyes I saw refusal.

The same one that struck me in that moment. 

Denial.

”They don’t have Cairo. They don’t even have someone of Cairo’s level.” 

The kid took a moment to grin to himself for a second at my light praise, and I rolled my eyes, the curl disappearing as he straightened his lips out, clearing his throat. 

“But… Haddock is one of the highest in the agency. A senior. We’ve been reporting to Haddock for years.” 

“I… I know.” 

“Wait.”

I faced Cairo again as he called over everyone’s attention, making moves as he got up and hurried over to his computer. 

“Look… I don’t want you guys to be mad at me, okay?” 

I tilted my head at him in a warning, preparing for him to spew more bullshit to me, gesturing to let him know he should tread carefully. 

“No… listen.” 

“I am, but you’re not speaking.” 

He shook his head, pausing at my words all before finally focusing, eyes on the task at hand.

”When I first joined this agency… I needed to know what side you were on. So… I kinda did end up… hacking some of the higher up’s accounts. And there was something different about Haddock’s in comparison to the rest.” 

I stopped leaning on the medical table behind me, taking slow steps towards his computer as a thousand different files popped up, one by one.

I wouldve smacked him, but my antyention was elsewhere,

All of them were filled to the brim, containing classified information that none of us had seen before. 

“Cairo, what is this?” 

“Haddock never had her recommendation filled out. Every agent was recommended and supported by someone, but Haddock wasn’t. Like she was a bug that passed into the system and managed to get in by luck. And… I’m assuming none of you could see who anyone was recommended by. What with anonymity and shit. Well… since then I’ve had doubts on Haddock.” 

Well shit, kid. 

“I know you told me to report every single thing we came across to Haddock. To send files and evidence. But… there were certain pieces I never could. They… they felt wrong to send over.” 

Owen seemed to jolt up from the chair, speeding to the computer, a vibrant expression appearing on him as his lip curled up into a smile of hope, ruffling away at Cairo’s hair in an attempt to showcase his satisfaction with him. 

“And she doesn’t know about any of this?” 

He nodded his head in a firm motion, turning back to face me. 

It was moments like these, that I was thankful that the board had recommended Cairo. Despite all of his klutz acts, he had provided us with an advantage that couldn’t be taken away. 

“Hey, do me a favour, Cairo. Tell me everything that she knows. And then tell me everything that she doesn’t know.” 

Chapter Text

Sairah’s POV:

How could I sleep?

The vomit stained t-shirt landed advantageously on the other side of the room after I threw it, smearing down on the cement walls and leaving one hell of a disgusting abstract painting. 

There was a countdown to my life, and I could feel it tick with every second.

This man slit someone’s throat.

I watched him.

I saw it all happen before my eyes.

I could see the satisfaction that he didn’t even bother to mask.

It was the textbook definition of a murderer, and yet somehow he still spoke to me as though I didn’t have the reason to be completely traumatised by absolutely everything he had done. 

But the biryani mixture of vomit wasn’t the worst of my concerns right now. 

Where was he holding me?

Were we alone?

How far was I?

Was I in another country? 

Question upon question flooded my mind and I was left defenseless to my own anxieties, my knee bouncing up and down as I felt my teeth chatter together from the cold.

It turned out that dried cement for walls wasn’t exactly insulating. 

If I had known all of this would happen, I would’ve never even run away like that.

It was stupid too.

I mean, come on.

It was never that deep to run like my life depended on it.

Now I ran into the one thing that was making me depend on something for my life to exist. 

The guilt had struck me like a sly snake more than anything.

I could picture Danyal’s bleak face as he would question the police insistently, again and again, with no updates whatsoever found.

I mean come on, judging by my surroundings and the only glimpse of light being through iron bars at the tip of the ceiling, I wasn’t exactly in the most detectable of a location. 

And now, I could end up dying here. 

Before seeing any of them again. 

Before rectifying anything. 

My mother and I had arguably had many moments in our lives where we both assumed one could never come to understand the other.

That included my journey into all the schools I went to as well, alongside moving.

Often times, I’d hear from my grandmother and other elderly people that we looked similar, and yet acted as pole opposites to one another. Growing up, I didn’t want to look too similar to her. So I believed I didn’t… 

But now, I let the evidence of my pain run down along the length of my cheeks and wash away my face. 

There wasn’t a single moment where the skin on my face could testify that it was dry.

So much for being strong, I guess. 

-

Hours later, I retracted into the furthest part of the wall from the door, covering my legs up with the white shirt as I held my knees, my eyes coming to close, and yet sleep never finding me. 

Then, a screech sounded. 

I watched as a slit appeared between the door and the wall, all as he came inside.

Black joggers, and a white shirt.

I felt my heart thump erratically, his features captured again for my mind, the only thought that could be replay being that of the second he jammed the knife in, twisting, decapitating and then coming after me. 

He shut the door and my prayers had started up again as I felt my hands shake absentmindedly, a panic attack fighting to rise up and out of my throat. 

I was praying for the most absurd of things. 

A volcano to erupt on him, or a meteor to drop. 

Whatever got rid of him the quickest, was fair. 

Our eyes met in an accident from my end, and then I came to notice something within his hand. 

A knife? A weapon? 

“Food.” 

My eyes locked on to the meal and I felt myself salivate, my stomach erupting into a need to eat. 

I didn’t say a single word, instead wondering if this was a sadistic game he was playing with me.

Did he get satisfaction seeing me want something? Did it turn the fucker on?

Then I would just have to show him I wasn’t hungry at all. 

“I guess not then.” 

“Wait.”

Oh for fucks sake, why did my stomach have to rumble so loudly? 

He paused in his steps, his hands retracting from the door in another chance as he leaned back against the wall, watching me with that same look in his eyes, like I was a dog in a shelter that he was trying to train.  

“Is it poisoned?” 

He scoffed, the noise echoing around the walls, his back coming off of them as he approached me again, extending the bowl out.  

I braced myself, folding my fingers into two fists as he got even closer, my anxiety malfunctioning by the second, torn. 

”Yes.” 

“I don’t want it then.”

The words came out in seconds in response to him, and I felt a thick lump form in my throat.

Even my own body detested me.

It wanted me to shove whatever that was down, at least to keep the constant shaking at bay. 

Being stuck in fight or flight for hours clearly was no fun. 

I kept a good eye on him as he shifted back from me again, his patience running thin, making his way to the door with a breath released, about to leave with no other thought to it. 

Then, the raging demon in my stomach growled. I forced a hand over it, pissed the fuck off that it chose now to be insufferable. 

And yet he paused. 

There was a silence, a tension formed like coils in the air.

He didn’t seem like the type to even acknowledge that kind of noise if it wasn’t blood curdling screams, and yet he paused.

“Did you know that when the body doesn’t eat, the death is a lot worse than five minutes tolerating a stabbing?” 

I gulped, and he removed his hand from the door. He turned to me and took slow steps, coming forward again, and all I could wonder was how many times he would torture me like so, not leaving fully, unable to commit at the end. 

“Now I’m not saying you can’t go on for a while. You can.” His tone in the last words spoke like a false hope, a mockery attempt to reassure me. 

“But then you don’t have any glycogen left in your body to break down. So what do you move on to? Lipids… And those… those only last for a good bit of time.”

He placed the bowl back down in front of me, stepping away and crossing his arms over as he watched me like a hawk.

”After lipids? Proteins. You don’t want to reach proteins, but I’ll give you a hint of what comes next.” 

He pointed at his heart.

He knew that I knew, and that he didn’t have to explain. 

This was all just a fear tactic.

”And if I die from poisoning?” 

I inquired, fingers tightening around the bedsheets underneath me as I sat there, on my knees. 

“Another five minute death. Arguably ten times better than starvation.” 

He had a point.

If I had to succumb to one of those things, I’d rather not be on an empty stomach.

Realistically I didn’t know what this man was capable of, nor how well he covered his own tracks. 

I reached for the fork that laid lazily at the side with a weak, shaky hand, leaning forward.

He watched, monitoring everything I did like the psycho he was. 

It was gravy, and mashed potatoes.

Seemingly fresh out of a can. 

But it was something.

I scooped it up on the fork and coated it in the gravy, bringing it up to my face. 

Just inhaling it produced enough saliva in my mouth for an ocean. 

My lips parted with a reluctance I could get over, my mind convincing them to open up.

I had to eat.

I was entering a shut down mode, and it had only been merely a day. 

I brought the fork inside of my mouth and let the cold metal touchmy tongue.

Glanced up once just to see if he was still watching, and sure as hell his eyes were glued to me.

I wasn’t going to be able to eat in privacy. 

I closed my mouth to get rid of the uneasy feeling and let the mash move along my tongue, as it collected up the nutrients. 

Then, I began to chew. 

But swallowing was harder. 

Anyone would find it hard to swallow when a murderer was staring at you.

Maybe it was just his fetish to watch his victims eat before they died.

But my body needed it, and who was I to deny my body in such a situation? 

It went down my throat like a lump, and I felt a little pissed that out of everything he could’ve lazily made, he offered me cold lumps of mashed potatoes. 

Regardless, I kept chewing and collecting more on my fork. 

A full five minutes had passed before he said an ‘mhmm’ of confirmation, causing my eyes to dart back up at him. 

“Are you dead?” 

The question caught me off guard and I swallowed the mash that had been burrowed into my mouth, letting it empty before I spoke up. 

”H-huh?” 

“It’s really not rocket science. Are you dead?” 

My head felt rusty as I shook it in that awkwardness, with as little enthusiasm as I could.

God, he was making me feel dumb, and I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. 

“Then stop saying stupid shit. Finish it.” 

And with that, he left the room. 

Chapter Text

In the times alone I had, ( which was practically most of the time ) all I could do was to sit and wonder how he could have it inside of him to be so dismissive and cold. 

The room still reeked violently of vomit and having to eat inside of it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience either, but at least for now I knew the shaking of my hands wasn’t for the depletions I had faced.

And yet, I was still left completely gutted.

Why the hell was I here? 

If he was going to kill me then surely he would’ve just gotten the ordeal done by now with choosing to just shoot me in the head or something? 

Regardless, I stayed pressed up against the wall like it had become my new home, mind whizzing over the horrendous luck I had accumulated within the experiences of my life that eventually would’ve had to lead to the imminent moment. 

It was unfair. 

The worst part of it all was to absentmindedly hear the victim begging for his life, with seemingly no phase on the man. 

There was no hesitation, nor any switch in his mind that told him that perhaps he should reconsider his actions. 

The kill was always in his plans.

It was just his words that had delayed it, and even that was in his plans as well. 

I would be next on the list, and keeping me hear locked up like an animal was just another form of that preparation, and eventually I’d be delivered straight to the slaughter. 

The mattress underneath me on the other hand was no better either.

Likely filled with to the brim with rocks, my back had grown to ache tremendously in just one singular day, all at the result of such a cheap, worthless installation. 

And I was sweaty as fuck.

Sweaty and unwashed.

This was the least feminine I’d felt and smelt in years, and the least put together in my life as well. 

I didn’t know how he could bear coming into the room just to offer things to me when I practically smelt like a crowded train on a hot day and a pregnant woman’s bathroom in the early stage mornings. 

-

Sun-Hyuk’s POV:

Her eyes were more expressive than any others I’d dealt with.

She gave herself away for every emotion she felt within seconds, and soon I was playing a subtle game of guessing what was running through her mind with each hesitation she made while sat in front of me, choiceless but acting otherwise. 

And yet, I couldn’t sit there and pretend like it was all coming from a place of irrationality. 

At the end of the day, she was locked in a room with nothing to interact with but herself, the last memories she had being that of her own sister’s wedding, now stranded all alone, left with the ‘bad guy’. 

But what was I meant to do?

She had pissed me the fuck off. 

If she would’ve just stayed with that diverse family of hers and remained huddled with them in Princess Land, then she would’ve never ran into the harsher parts of life and discovered reality.

It was her fault. 

That wasn’t even the most important of my concerns anyway.

Nuclear weapons were being made in a facility we had no clue even existed, let alone its location.

But we did know that we had uncovered a breach in our own system, at the hierarchy.

A mole. 

It had only made it so much worse that Haddock was the only superior I had contact with and I ended up pinching the bridge of my nose every time I was reminded of it, complete frustration for my actions performed for her my whole life, recalling how easily I had accepted when she said she wanted to become my method of communication. 

I should’ve just went for the stuck up dude on the left with the open zipper, but now I was forced to report everything back to a woman pushing 75 who somehow was involved in such a horrific trade.

”You okay?”

Owen had entered into the room and caught me in that same position of immense regret, my other hand pressed against the desk behind me as I leaned against it, stuck with a pensive facial expression.

He waited beside the door regardless, dumping down a new gun he had just made for the sake of having better options to pick from in future tasks, as if the ones we got traded from the company could be rigged. 

As he got even closer and tried to lean on to the desk beside me, I felt the entire contraption shift back from his clumsiness, a screech sounding before he stood up, acting like he wasn’t just seconds away from falling and cracking his back. 

”I’m okay, are you okay?”

He took a single glance at me and then diverted his eyes like the question came off condescending, and to be fair part of it was.

But that kind of talk was just in my nature. 

Fixed. 

“I’m fine.”

He replied eventually, pulling away at the mangled straps of his glove, undoing them while proceeding to speak.

“Haddock was the last person I expected.”

He said what we were all thinking on the inside, and I knew he also hoped she would’ve at least showed one more obvious sign of betrayal. 

I knew all of them had wished so.

If it took us this many years to figure her out, then what if there were even more moles present, just lurking around a corporation that was meant to be impenetrable? 

”I don’t think anyone could’ve.”

I was answering in a truthful manner, my hand coming upwards to cross my arms over and be able to further indulge in this conversation with him.

We could hear the not no quiet whisperings in the other room and it wouldn’t be my team if I didn’t know exactly what they were all huddled, talking about.

”They’re scared.”

I had only stated it, but Owen was the one to support it, nodding his head with noises of agreement, letting out a single sigh at the end. 

”They are.”

I already knew, but hearing it come out of his mouth had just confirmed the worst of my worries. 

“Then they’re not fit for this mission.”

His head shot up as he faced me, taking a pause at my side before stepping forward so he was in my front view, all I could see. 

”Then I’m not fit either.”

I know. 

“We’ve dealt with nuclear weapons before.” 

“Yeah, the ones where we knew exactly where they were being fired from. The ones we had all the intel on. With this, we only have a website, some guys in masks who are operating it, the ability to like or dislike the livestreams and every now and then they tease the time till doomsday hits and people who are innocent are completely wiped out.” 

His voice had become a rushed and panicked mess by the end of his little dialogue, and I could tell even he was losing sense of what the fuck to do. 

All of us were. 

“And worst of fucking all, we’ve kidnapped a civilian.”

My head snapped up now to make direct eye contact with him, watching as his frustrations simmered down a little, glancing away from me as I eyed him, irritation coursing through me. 

“Out of everything, the girl is your biggest concern?” 

He faced the door where she was being held inside and all I could do was watch him shudder, before turning back to me. 

“The smell of vomit is reaching inside of here. Maybe you’re just insensitive to it but… we can smell it. Cairo complains every night, before he sleeps.” 

“Cairo complains about anything, he’s a child.” 

“Well I’m complaining too… you should… do something about it.” 

Chapter Text

Sairah’s POV:

”Get up.”

The suddenness of his voice jolted me awake, my body stiffening as I opened up my eyes, the light piercing straight through them.

I fell asleep. 

I didn’t even know I was capable. 

My sight landed first on to a neatly folded bundle of fabrics, his hand holding on to it carelessly, more focused towards the task of getting me awake enough to even be able to respond. 

”You’re going to shower.”

I mean, what could I have expected?

I knew I stank heavily of bile and complete deprivation of any hygiene, but even I had to raise doubt over his claim, questioning what exactly he had in mind when it came to the much ambiguous idea of a ‘shower’. 

How?

With him watching?

Where?

When? 

I took a glance away from him as I felt exhaustion leave my body in a painstakingly slow manner, my eyes instead landing on the open door, before reverting back to his face.

He was daring me with that unamused look of his, riddled with the way he always kept that neutral stare, coming off as unbothered as anything. 

”How?”

I had to inquire. 

He wasn’t exactly the most detailed in these situations. 

His eyes rolled back into his head at me as if I was being unreasonable, the sheet of clothing landing beside me on the bed with a thud, my eyes flitting over to them as I examined, cautiously. 

All black, again? 

I shifted back in discomfort towards the wall, aware that he still didn’t answer my question, seeming to avoid it on purpose.

I didn’t want to know why he was doing so, or I might not ever want to shower again. 

“God, you need one.”

He said in a confessing release under his breath, avoiding facing me directly as he leaned in, his hand landing down beside me on the bed, directed towards my ankle.

I flinched, cursed afraid by his coming closer, all before his hands made contact with the metal that latched uncomfortably around it, working away at the thick band without care for my incessant squirming. 

I watched him click open the padlock with no form of hesitation, as if it was obvious to everyone that someone like me didn’t exactly classify as a threat, unwrapping the length of the chain till for once I felt a lost sense of freedom again, my ankle belonging to myself. 

I could run for it. If I tried maybe I would- 

“I have a friend.”

His words shook the momentary plan out of my mind and I stopped levitating off the mattress to shift past him and bolt, instead choosing to sit back down obediently and let him continue with his unwrapping of the chain.

”His name is Gun. You’ve met him before.”

He backed it out of his belt, and that was all it took for me to stop thinking in terms of escape again, and instead back towards the idea of survival.

”Please… no…”

The words became automatic to me now, as if I needed to constantly beg just to tweak something in his mind that could let me stay alive.

But my pleas fell on deaf ears, and the ears had grown tired. 

His hand clutched over my mouth, effectively stopping any noise leaving it.

He silenced me physically, and yet still cruelly forced me to maintain my eye contact with him through those piercing, non-merciful eyes.

”Gun will shoot if you don’t listen. So listen.”

I hated the way he spoke down to me.

I hated how entitled he felt in this moment with his hand wrapped around my ankle, the other paying homage to my mouth, all in attempts to hold me there, completely bound up by him. 

My gaze instead fell defeatedly, landing instead on yet another problem whereby the thought hadn’t even popped up in my mind. 

My foot. 

I winced just looking at the marks, and yet still he didn’t retract his hand.

He continued to aggravatingly twist my foot around like it was a fucking rotisserie chicken, a pretzel for him to bend right then and there, surveying me as if with a doctor’s degree. 

The skin there on the other had was a deep, dried up crimson, and there were small scratches and cuts, the stain of red spreading through them all messily. 

It also happened to look as swollen as ever, and every time I flinched there was this burning sensation warning me to hold still instead, like all the wounds could reopen just from a tap. 

“You’ll be fine.”

Oh right as if that reassured me.

How amazing of a news.

”Now get up.”

I eyed him, tempted to furrow my brows but not willing to lose my life over such a meaningless reason. 

How the fuck was I meant to just get up? 

I instead could only stare up at him all blank, praying to God that he would take heed of my quizzical expression and instead work around it, giving me this pass, just for then. 

There was no way on Earth that I would be able to move around with a foot all mangled up like that.

Not now, not ever. 

“Do you not speak English anymore? You did it well a few days ago when you were berating me.”

I scoffed, playing it off into a cough, his head tilting in another warning. 

Oh come on, now is seriously not the time. 

“I don’t know how you expect me to get up after seeing my foot like that.” 

He let out a laugh from his throat that was so abrupt and loud I had to flinch at it, degraded to that of a wuss just from someone’s evil cackle. 

I was left embarrassed, only able to pull my hands up my knees and hold myself, sat like an egg in the corner despite his constant orders for me to do otherwise, l avoiding those judging eyes of his. 

“You can get up.”

Right because he’s some sort of omnipotent being who can just make me walk off a practically broken foot.

It hurt too bad, I couldn’t.

”No, I can’t.”

He glanced around the four walls that held up the room now, as if avoiding eye contact with me for the sake of keeping his criticisms on the inside for once, practising attempts to be gentler. 

But his agitation shone on him, and he wore it too proud. 

“Get up.” 

He was impatient. 

“No.”

The words left my mouth before I could halt them and consider the consequences, instead coming off firm and stubborn in their nature of tone. 

God Sairah, he was a murderer, and you were a stupid brown girl.

Just obey… 

“If you think I won’t make you get up, then you’re heavily wrong.”

He was trying to pull the cord.

The cord that could only be known as the defence that was woven everywhere through my personality. 

But alas, I had to learn to turn that request down.

I had greater issues to deal with at hand. 

“It hurts.” 

Now he was really not giving a fuck.

There was a single moment more between us of pure silence before he delivered the threat within seconds, fighting back the urge to laugh down at me harder than anything else. 

“I’ve watched people with no toenails and cut achilles heels learn how to crawl because I told them to. You think I can’t get you to walk?” 

Just merely the thought itself of having my achilles heels sliced made me cringe in fear and a volatile disgust, and I clasped a hand to my throat before I could cause another accident on the both of us. 

“Don’t throw up again.”

Right, as if I could bottle it down and keep it in, locked up inside of me.

-

Before I knew it, I could feel every part of my body rejecting at my mind’s pleas to hold still, instead practically vibrating with fear, giving away the stench of how petrified I was, all as I felt him merely an inch away from me.

I couldn’t see for shit.

He had tied a thick ribbon over the expanse of my eyes, and before I knew it I was held completely blindfolded before him, left to navigate the way he had wanted me to, when he wanted me to, my own sense gone. 

At first, the pressure of the knot he tied was enough to make me feel like my entire cranium was being squeezed on purpose, and I could only come to realise he didn’t have the social skills to recognise so, even with my expressed grunts and groans, skipping past them with ease. 

Nor did he seem to carry the sympathy.

But for the first time since waking up, there was an epiphany. 

I had touched the floor again. 

The contact itself was enough to make my bones feel like they were grinding away as they adjusted to being stood up, and I felt my cheek twitch in a sting as I reached out with flailing hands, attempting to lean on something. 

I didn’t even want to see how fucked up my soles had become. 

“Go.”

The floor on the other hand was covered in specks of dust, and I could feel it all as I made my way across the floor, having no choice to pick otherwise.

He was guiding me with what little effort he could use, a hand on my shoulder, as it felt a little as though death’s shadow itself was leading me meticulously to my own demise.

”Door.”

Bang.

I let out a deep groan at the impact and my hands landed on my forehead instantly, massaging the throbbing skin there as I felt a sensation spark. The hit left me recoiling back but I could feel the rigidness of his chest, like a wall as it steadied me.

”Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Well thank the fucking universe for that. 

He graviously had allowed me some semblance of time to recover but that ended unsurprisingly shortly before he continued to shove me along with that iron grip, sending me back on my feet.

My bones weren’t in the slightest prepared and I winced at the suddenness of the harsh movements, the severe change in pressure causing my entire leg to want to buckle.

”To your right.”

I found myself wanting to turn around, take off the blindfold and offer him a tight slap across his nonchalant expression of a face.

How horrendously idiotic did someone have to be to offer such vague instructions and expect someone to make their way across like they unlocked a third eye?

“Ow!”

There was a demon that released out of me in that word, my voice lowering close enough to replicate some form of a satanic growl, body wanting nothing more than to rip him apart and claw at him for being the world’s worst guider, painting me in bruises all over my body.

But this wasn’t like being given a less-than-average teammate in a puzzle game.

This was a matter of life or death, played with someone you couldn’t even compromise with. 

But that didn’t mean I lost all choice. 

I decided I had enough and shrugged off his large hand off my shoulder, walking with a newfound sense of feigned confidence, not even caring what I would lose my two front teeth in another collision to.

That was the thing about having an unbridled fury from the complete audacity of a situation burst out of you.

It made you feel for seconds like for once you had control and you were on top of the world, somewhat like an override system.

And yet, it was the most dangerous kind of asset you could choose to rely-

“Stupid.”

His word came out firm and deliberate as ever, all before he latched on hard to the exposed side of my neck, shifting the whole of me completely in my steps, causing me to stumble a little as I found myself propelled to the right. 

I could practically feel him gripping and pulling me up in areas no one ever even touched before, and for once I realised that I never wanted to turn out blind.

I couldn’t even exercise my rights here, forced to be a mindless, blind slave. 

I mean, what even were rights to him? 

“In.”

He didn’t have to command me.

I could already smell the faint scent of dried up blood masked in a poor manner with heaps of herbal essences and lemon.

It felt like being inside of the mind of someone with a psychological disorder that was being masked, surrounded by fragrances that did nothing to support one another and instead made me feel a deep sense of dread, my stomach doing laps. 

Tiled floors.

My feet would dip in between the cracks and that’s how I could tell, that and the way the chances of slipping and cracking my head open had seemed to increase by 1000 times, the glossiness not helping much at all. 

Despite the predicament of a situation I was forced into, I paid careful attention to what counted as my surroundings, and for the first time I was somewhat thankful for the presence of a blindfold.

It had allowed me to better map out the landscape and be able to manoeuvre myself, and hopefully this time I could avoid more of his relentless taunts, a lot of them revealed merely by the expression that would rise on to his face.

I flinched.

The door had slammed shut, and I heard a click.

Was he gone?

It was dead silent. 

Surely he was gone. 

I made work on the blindfold almost instantly, undoing it.

It was a simple knot, but he didn’t need some military level one to be able to stop me.

I was ashamed to admit that a shoelace tie could’ve done the job. 

If I even stepped in the wrong way, I would be taken care of before he even had the chance to.  

I squinted my eyes, the light testing my tolerance as the ribbon fell down elegantly from my face, my eyes landed immediately on a mirror that presented in front of me. 

There was no way in Hell. 

My eyes widened further involuntarily as I began pressing into the features on my face, disgusted deeply by what I saw, arguably even worse than my middle school years.

My under-bags had risen out and darkened even further, forcing me to resemble the Sadako ghost that came out of the Ring movie, pigments of a deep black and mixes of a shade of brown smeared across the length of my face.  

I got to work in immediate seconds, scrambling to grab the tissue on the side of the sink, wetting it under the water for several seconds.

I then began to rub harsh circles over my eyes, not stopping until I could see the depths of the shapes again. 

And then, that’s when I noticed it.

My hair was back to being wavy over the course of merely a day, with thin strands of curls popping out to introduce themselves to me, as if they knew I had been blindfolded the entirety of the time. 

So much for the hour I spent straightening it, and now the damaged ends didn’t even seem to matter anymore. 

“Fuck… I look like shit.”

I breathed the realisation out to myself, and yet as I finally saw my bare face for the first time in days, I noticed that my skin care had still somehow been working over time to protect my skin well enough till this moment. 

Then, I peered down with a sniff to what I was wearing.

My gagging was activated the second I caught the sight of the yellow stains that plastered themselves on my shirt, actualising the idea that the mess was dripping down me, and had in fact been real. 

So much for having Daal at a wedding. 

I crumpled up the bottom of the fabric into my hands and got to work instantly, yanking it all over my head, no hesitation in that, 

I was thankful.

Despite everything, he never made attempts to take my bra off.

That was the one thing I could at least appreciate. 

I reached behind in desperate attempts and located the thick strap behind me, clawing away at it with my fingers, latching on to either side and attempting to pull them apart.

If there was one thing I needed now more than anything, it was relief from the band that was practically having a go at suffocating my rib cage. 

And yet, even this proved I was a failure.

Fingers fumbled and I ashamedly carried on with groans, kissing my teeth every time I missed, determined as ever as if my life had depended on it.

”You missed it. You had your finger on it.”

”What the fu-“

Chapter Text

Sun-Hyuk’s POV:

She stared at me with wide eyes of bewilderment like I was a mad man for existing within that room, and before I knew it she was covering up the length of her cleavage and stepping back, her previously limping feet seeming to work perfectly within that moment.

I mean seriously, I should’ve just let her succumb to nature, breathing and existing was like watching a deer who constantly placed herself in headlights. 

She hadn’t even had the inclination to look around her before starting to undress. 

Her face however did seem exceedingly better without all the muck on it though, and I found there was something amusing about watching how she finally took notice of how much of a mess she was, taking some effort to fix herself before me, eyebrows all furrowed before she got the dirt off. 

“W-why the hell are you in here?”

Because it’s my bathroom, duh. 

I decided to stop with leaving her stood there all alone with a thick step off the wall and walked up to her body, contained in her arms with crossed arms, getting closer till she started backing away in her own realisations that I wasn’t going to stop. 

Eventually though, I changed course and did, seeing as if I went any longer she would’ve had to succumb to the wall behind herself, back against the cold tiling.

I wasn’t that torturous of a person. 

“You can’t shower alone.”

I made sure to be as clear as possible, tired of her constant turning and glancing at me like I was some sort of a prophet and she was just following my orders.

All my instructions had been direct so far.

And yet still, she looked at me like with every one like I handed her an AK-47 and told her to kill all the single mothers within a room. 

”W-why not?”

God, I hated that.

I hated how much she stuttered.

For once, she was the only person I wanted to not be intimidated or scared by me, and it was for the sole purpose by which she could actually get her flimsy sentences across without making unnecessary, useless breaks. 

And yet here she stood still frozen like a pack of fish, hands clasped over herself as she folded her legs over, practically squeezing her limbs together and staying locked away to herself on the other end of the room. 

“I can’t guarantee if you’ll try something.”

And I was exactly in my right to be  concerned so. 

Scissors locked up away beside the sink, window places high up on the wall, access to the chemicals in the mini cupboard that was placed under the sink, heaps of acids and slippery floors.

God, it was like a hazardous scene waiting to happen. 

I’d dealt with so many dead bodies that I seemed to forget at points what could easily end the life of a living one. 

There was no way I was leaving this idiot in here, and letting her compromise the rest of us. 

“I won’t.”

Her words were short and mumbled, but I didn’t have to do any further convincing. 

She was already getting to work, sliding the length of the joggers I had given her down her legs. 

My clothes were somewhat amusing to look at on her body, substantially larger than the entire length of her, and I’d only just noticed in the swift glances I got in as she slipped past me, my eyes darting away seconds later out of something that came close to the idea of respect. 

I didn’t have any interest in that sort of thing, and I was only here for one specific purpose.

Get her clean.

Put her back in.

Shut Owen and the team up. 

Soon enough, it seemed her body finally made itself function, all as I heard the clattering of the fabric she wore as the pieces hit the floor, kicked to the side, scooping up into the far corner of the room. 

She then stood before me, and through my peripheral I could notice that she was in her underwear only. 

“I… I don’t want to do all of it.”

She was shaking, and out of every time she looked at me, this time she pleaded the most was with those pupils in this singular situation, and I was convinced that soon enough she’d get wrinkles just from knitting her eyebrows together absentmindedly, all in fear. 

Typically, I wouldn’t give a shit and just convince her to continue on. 

Who knows what weapons a bra could be turned into? 

I wasn’t going to look at her anyways. 

But this time, I knew there were issues involved with practicality as well.

I didn’t have another set of underwear for her.

I wasn’t the kind of guy to keep them stored up inside of a desk in a bunker, and in all fairness I’d never encountered a situation like this before. 

I wasn’t exactly like Fergio Hans, who now was turned into what meaningless words on a paper became after meeting a specific kind of machine. 

I’d tortured women, and men alike.

I’d watched them beg for mercy repeatedly in their higher pitched voices, and yet it disappointed me to see women think I’d give them a pass solely for their gender.

The people I killed were bad people.

I killed then for valid reasons, and in turn the greater good was uplifted. 

“Hello?”

I snapped back from my thoughts and met her eyes again, only to see her stood completely still, hesitating before continuing to speak directly to me, her mouth landing ajar before she formulated words. 

”Can I keep it on?”

I only had to slip one glance down at her body and I could tell it unnerved her.

She gripped her shoulder to herself like nothing else and I watched the skin around that area squish underneath the pressure of her hands locked over it, her cleavage pressing together. 

Whatever.

It wasn’t my cold underwear.

She could deal with the discomfort after. 

”Just get in.” 

For a second, I saw a glimmer of an emotion pass through the both of her eyes, resembling that of gratitude.

If it was, that would’ve been a hell of an irony.

She just stood there against the bath, her eyes darting up to the shower head and then back down at me.

Did no one teach her how to turn a tap? 

I had enough of her simplemindedness and made my way over in swift movements, her body clearing out the space in seconds, moving behind me with both hands pressed together, disappearing into the back like a decoration to place beside the wall as she fidgeted with her skin there. 

Finally getting a hold on the tap and twisting it to the hottest setting, I took a step back when I knew I was over with my job, inconvenienced suddenly by the presence of a firm bump.

I managed to collide right into her, kissing my teeth and then glancing back. 

She blinked up, and then avoided eye contact. 

Why the hell was she even so close to me in the first place? 

The water sprang out just like I had expected within a couple delayed seconds and began to shoot down at the floor as well, my hands working to angle it furthest away from the rest of the room as possible, so that the trickle would only land on her. 

“Get in.” 

I turned to face her and her hands were out of their locked hold, surpring me as I came to reckon if they were permanent in some form, but now she was staring up at the shower like it was some form of a puzzle that she couldn’t exactly solve. 

I wasn’t going to repeat myself. 

If she wanted to run out of time, she could do that by being aloof.

I’d place her next to the bins outside instead, and the smell wouldn’t be as bothering to everyone.

“Is… is it warm?”

I shrugged my shoulders at her, continuing to lean back against the wall, effectively choosing to remain silent and watch her in her own mindless struggle.

If she wanted anything else, she’d have to figure it out for herself.

I didn’t owe her jack shit to be doing any of that for her.

She hesitated, before moving.

Her careful steps aimed towards the tub.

The floor was still wet from Florian’s previous shower, and so I watched as she tiptoed to miss out any pre-existing wet spots. 

If she slipped and cracked her head now, that would’ve been one more dead body to clean up, and I wasn’t particular eager for that kind of a scene. 

I was too tired. 

I watched her rise, slipping into the length of the tub as she slipped herself under the pour of water.

She flinched. 

Within seconds she was pulling herself out again and glancing back at me, expecting me to come all the way over there and fix it. 

Sorry princess, but over here we take cold showers, and hot for us is lukewarm. 

Don’t look at me, you’re on your own. 

Now she lowered her head under the spray again in a second attempt and I could only watch as the coolness of the water hit the top of her hair, dripping down by every side and adding weight to her strands, dragging them down by their waves. 

Now she looked more like the day when she berated me. 

All straightened hair, clean body. 

Then, I was fixated as she reached up with the palm of her hand, cupping the water into it till it overflowed and spilled out.

Clearly, it was a good enough temperature because now she was directly placed underneath it, letting every helpful drop glaze over the length of her body, from head to toe. 

I averted my eyes to the wall, and my attention was directed straight to the poster that Cairo hung up on the wall in attempts to make the place we would all stay in just a little more homely. 

It was a dentistry ad, and he found it funny in particular to remind everyone how they brushed their teeth.

He said the faces people made in the ads kept him laughing.

I would’ve taken it down but I needed something on my wall to remind me that some people are less developed in humour than others, and hence we should be appreciative of the palate we have. 

In other words, he was shit at making jokes-

Drop.

My eyes flickered back to her with noise of the loud thud, immediately alert but it seemed my eyes had dragged over to the spectacle in front of me at too bad a time.

She bent down mindlessly and her panties rode up, wet as it clung to her and rolled up, and now I only felt an irritation rise up into my throat.

For someone so reluctant and closed off, I was confused how she managed to be so unknowing and revealing at the same time. 

She’d grabbed the bottle off of the floor and now lathered a hefty, thick amount of the substance into her hand.

Huh? Wait… Fuck’s sake. 

”That’s mine.”

I made attempt to reach her over the torrential downpour of the water, but alas she was as dead as she was brainless.

She continued to coat her hair in the substance, leaving me helpless to only make attempts to repeat myself louder, causing her to turn around in a brisk realisation midst the suds dripping down into the length of her hair.

“H-huh?” 

“That’s my shampoo.”

She blinked down at the remnants of bubbles that appeared on to her palms, and I watched her fingers still as she lowered them down, glancing at me with small looks like she was a child found out for being guilty over stealing candy. 

“I didn’t know…”

Why touch without asking then? 

Half her body was already covered merely in the shampoo itself, the amount she lathered in purely irrational.

Yet at the same time it made complete sense. 

She had absorbed up all the vomit, and had to counteract all of that. 

Everyone would want to be clean enough to reflect images off their surface of skin after that kind of an experience. 

So I just swallowed my complaints up and turned my gaze away from her to prevent rising my blood pressure, remaining stood beside to the door, not shifting at any point. 

The rest of the team on the other hand were right outside, and I could tell they were convening about the mess of what they had just saw.

I explicitly ordered them to remain dead silent as she was walking past, not giving off any hints that they were even present, watching her step all wonky around the place, ribbon over eyes. 

I wasn’t going to reveal the identity of my team members as well.

It was bad enough she’d lived this long after seeing me. 

They had only just took a few glances at her before looking away, pretending like she was some sort of a furniture that could shift, returning back to their silent works.

For once, my team was respectful. 

And yet somehow, it made doubts gather within me.

This wasn’t some sort of regal princess.

She was someone we kidnap-

“Oh fuck!”

Her entire body had slipped back and I felt goosebumps trickle through me to react, already making moves as I stepped from A to B, landing at her side.

Her arms were flailing again like a chicken,  reaching out for the cord in failed attempts as she hadn’t even had the length of arm to make it. 

My hands collided with her wet back to prevent her head from smashing into the porcelain of the tub, the water from the shower and her hair beginning to directly drop on to her face, and then mine. 

She used my hands in attempts to steady herself, fingers clasping over with eyes closed as she fought to get up, clearing her face of the water continuously before it could suffocate her any longer.

She was being practically drowned in it, in the most puny way possible. 

How could someone almost waterboard themselves? 

In that moment, my patience slipped down from a 10 out of 100 to a -100, surpassing 0 the second I heard an ‘oh fuck’ come out of her.

I turned off the tap, letting her learn how to breathe again, taking that as the obvious sign that it was time to leave. 

My hands had hooked themselves under her thighs and lifted her weight up, and to my surprise I found no retaliations.

That was good.

We’d get shit done easier this way.

She was light.

Lighter than anything I’d ever held, and I’d lifted up various kinds of men after slicing through them.

But this time, the body wasn’t cold or silent. 

It was loud, breathing, beating and warm, and still somehow having the nerve to shift as time passed on, in my fingers.

”Stay still.”

Her hands eventually grasped a clue and wrapped around me for extra support as her gaze fell down onto the ground to land there in front of me, and then back once at my face, head all tilted up. 

When close, she was different from far away. 

But then again, no shit Sherlock. 

I could see each individual eyelash.

I could recognise that there was a faint blush that lingered onto her cheeks, even without the presence of artificial pigment, like a natural print.

The purple hues embedded within her lips.

None of the people I’d tortured before could ever dream to have a face like this.

It was different.

It was… innocent. 

Her attraction show of eyes had drifted off of me as she cleared her throat.

I could feel her hands start to shake, wavering back into an anxiety, after just moments of peace.

Ah, the beauty of just remembering I was a murderer. 

How irritating.

”A-am I done?”

I nodded my head in a curt nod, choosing to not use sarcasm with her any longer, my shirt turning damper by the second from letting her wet body cling on to me, her hands still locked on to me.  

I grabbed her by the hips and put her down, not even realising I was lifting her up the entire time. 

She avoided eye contact even more with me now as she let go of my chest and stopped tip toeing, instead turning around to face the door that was bolted shut.  

Her new sets of clothes came on, and then she was dressed again in threads of my own shit, looking like some kind of a fucking teddy bear in human clothes. 

I made moves to come close to the door, beckoning her over with my hand. 

“Stand here.”

She did as told with some reluctance, but eventually she was exactly where I had said, her hands holding each other as she fidgeted and stood quietly. 

Then, I let her be blindfolded again, and I took her out. 

Chapter Text

As we reached the room at the other end of the bunker, still carrying the slightest scent of the bile but far better in comparison to before, I bolted the door shut behind me, causing her to jolt up.

The doors were rusty, but I wasn’t going to do anything to change that.

They didn’t affect us, nor the way we worked. 

And some girl not preparing each time wouldn’t become an issue. 

I rid her of the blindfold over her eyes, my fingers running across her wet streaks of hair, watching as she rubbed her eyes in her hands the second light hit her, quiet as ever. 

I dropped the towel I was holding down into her hand when it came to her sides, her head tilting down as she acknowledged it, turning it over in her hands and rolling the material out. 

Droplets from her had begun reaching the floor and I pointed at them in seconds from behind, her entire demeanour completely shifting from analysing the fabric to letting her gaze wash over where the direction of my finger landed.

”Dry your hair if you want to sleep in a clean room.”

I didn’t need to say that.

That wouldn’t have affected me in any way either.

Her head came to nod at me stiffly in confirmation, as though it was mimicking a rusty door hinge and then her hands engulfed her strands in the towel, collecting all the water that her locks had to offer. 

Her face was clean and for once I could actually make out her personal features, not clouded up by random smudges.

Those eyes.

There was something about those eyes that could’ve scored me a million if I sold them on the market.  

They were constantly whizzing, and unlike other people you could tell that there was a thousand thoughts that accompanied them. 

From the wedding, her hair was pin straight, but now as I watched her dry it in aggressive rubs, these wavy strands poked out like nothing else and lined the upper half of her body.

She got to work on them all silently, and every time she pulled at them with the towel they’d bounced right back up. 

“Can I…?”

She paused, her throat shifting upward as she gulped at me, waiting. 

Fuck, I’d been staring too long.

Now she even had the gall to speak without being spoken to. 

I didn’t change my expression, not knowing whether I wanted her to proceed or to shut up.

Instead, I stood there, eyeing her features.

“Can I ask you what you were even doing at the wedding?” 

Of course, I’d forgotten about the first circumstances by which we met, her sole purpose at the start like an underpaid security guard, making my life harder as I tried to move along.

But then again, I couldn’t blame her.

She was now locked inside of a bunker in a location she couldn’t know, receiving a meal or so per day. 

“I told you. I wasn’t at the wedding.” 

“You walked right past my family.” 

She was quick to defend her case, and throw accusations my way, her voice growing more certain by the minute. 

“I wasn’t attending. I just happened to be here.” 

“That’s what I mean though…”

She dropped the towel down to her collarbone now and began rubbing it in, the beads of water on her neck fading as she wiped over them, her focus still attached onto me.

”You… did you want to murder him? Specifically him… I mean.”

The sheer curiosity within her eyes made me feel like she was hanging off the edge of a tightrope just to know, determination striking her soft features as the towel stilled in her hands and she waited, clutching it with the silence engulfing the both of us. 

”Do you think I did?”

The question felt natural, and for once I wanted to know.

Just as another form of amusement extracted from her, that’s all. 

Nothing more. 

“Y-yes…”

Atta girl.

I didn’t bother to confirm or deny her suspicions, instead nodding more in a sense of taking in her opinion, keeping the beliefs about them to myself. 

My hands came down to my side, reaching inside of my pockets, my gaze still on her neck. 

Her collarbones stuck out a lot. 

“W-was it?”

There wasn’t just cautious fear mixed in her words.

No, there was something else.

Curiosity, of course.

Anyone could smell it off her from a mile away.

But no, she was… hopeful. 

“Why do you want to know?” 

She took a second more to gather her words and just for moments I could hear the pipes inside of the walls.

Both of us could.

The gushing liquid clanged against them, draining out somewhere to the side of us, interrupting the tension that somewhat plagued the room.

An interview between a murderer and an innocent, but I wasn’t handcuffed.

She was, in my domain.

The towel dropped down beside her all flimsily on to the mattress, and so did herself as she defeatedly sat down, creating some sense of space between us.

“It helps me to realise how likely it is you’ll kill me by the end of this.” 

There it was.

She came out fresh with it, choosing to be honest with herself. 

But it wasn’t up to me to entertain this shit.

I didn’t have to answer to no one. 

I retracted my footsteps, making my way over to the open door, hand rising in preparation to lock it up again, and leave her in the light by herself. 

I paid her one final look, my eyes landing on those desperate and yet disappointed eyes, and for the first time, I hesitated. 

”What age are you?”

Her head shot up to look at me, blinking, hands pressed into the sides of the mattress as she waited, her locks dropping liquid down on to the bed. 

“18.”

That changed things.

Many things.

Regardless, I could only nod my head in acknowledgment, hand landing on the handle, delivering her a final look. 

“I’m not interested. In killing you.” 

-

Haddock wouldn’t stop calling.

It was frequent, and that wasn’t to say we stopped picking up.

We did, just as much as we used to.

I gathered from the intel Cairo showed me that Haddock didn’t even know about any of the numbers, locations and the discoveries of multiple different things like smaller gangs within the Lotus Mantis and sex trafficking rings we broke. 

But then again, we were running on the hopes that she wasn’t getting that type of classified information somewhere else. 

Owen on the other hand was rubbing the spiked up strands of his buzz-cut far more often now.

He ran his fingers through it as he watched Cairo type in series of letters into the computer, acting like his fate depended on it.

But then again, masses of humanity had depended on it. 

”The next live stream is in 2 weeks time from now.”

I delivered a firm nod. 

”They’re all bomb killings?”

”Every single video, except the first.” 

“What was the first?”

He turned around and looked at me, allowing his fingers a minimal break from the keyboard, unimpressed as he spoke the next words. 

”A stupid intro video.”

Of course, as expected.

It was typical of these people online.

They thrived off of such acts, and sure enough at the end of the day they still belonged to the internet.

And what is segments of the internet without an intro? 

“Haddock keeps begging us for updates and it’s only been a day or two since we even found out she was a mole.”

Owen voiced out to the group, acting as if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end of all of those calls. 

I knew that more than anyone. 

I agreed with him regardless, hoping his persistent worries would die down over time so that we could put in more effort to thinking about what to do.

To finding a solution. 

“She’s not asking for the updates.”

I delivered, coming to shake my head at the mere idea. 

I stood up straight and stopped my habit of leaning on the desk, approaching with steps forward, eyes still glued to Cairo’s work plastered out on the computer.

”Whoever is controlling her is. And it’s because… whoever is controlling her knows that there’s something we can find out. And hence, that’s something we need to find out…” 

Haddock was determined as ever, but she would come to learn the hard way that so were we.

If there was dirt to be dug, we’d reach it.

I ordered Cairo in a swift command to dig deeper, running an in depth check with all that expensive software of his.

All of us on the other hand remained silent in the back, retreating to our own tasks, but our minds were locked elsewhere. 

Ding. 

We snapped our heads back, all eager to see. 

Only one item had popped up and even Don and Florian who had been chattering away came from the back just to be able to better see it.

Florian made it first with the experience of those hurried steps and let out a loud gasp, whereas Don on the other hand groaned out in denial. 

“Yo, what the fuck?” Cairo muttered under his breath, and for once I wasn’t entirely pissed at the use of swearing. 

”Don’t open it.” 

I kept reading the link name over and over again in my mind, and yet I could have no clue what to think of it.

’President Assassination. US.’

”W-we need to tell a superior.”

Owen was seconds from balding at the rate of his hands stirring friction over his head, and all I could do was raise a hand to silence him, instead encouraging for them all to calm the fuck down. 

”No… we don’t know how far this mole situation runs.” 

I instead faced Cairo again who was perplexed himself, and he met my eyes with doubts as his eyes faltered towards the link.

Seemed like it was finally clicking to him that this shit was a big deal. 

“Click on it if you know we’re protected.” 

He paused, disappearing into a space within his own head, all before returning into reality again. 

He typed away and all the open tabs on his computer shut down, the screen fading to black before it returned, a green tick animated at the centre of the illuminated screen. 

”Safe.” 

“Then go ahead.” 

He clicked it, and we all watched, silent as ever. 

It was a college.

Montages of women being raped came up.

Men shoving their genitals rough and violent into bleeding, torn hymens, as high pitched screams begged for mercy.

Then it switched to another group of the women being murdered.

This time, the acts were much more related to the gender itself.

They would cut off their nipples and see cleavage together, conduct female genitalia mutilation, perform breast reduction surgeries, plastic surgeries and then force all women to stare at themselves in the end in front of a series of mirrors, handing them a gun and giving them a choice to commit suicide. 

In the worst cases, I saw a video of a woman who had a whole penis stitched on to her, and she was forced to penetrate into another woman. 

“Fuck… these people are sick.”

Florian exclaimed, the bucket coming to lay beside his feet as he eyed it all nervously, likely seconds away from puking out, the sweat gleaming off of his forehead every time he glanced down at it. 

Finally, the fuck loads of the demonic slideshows were over and it cut as casual as ever to a blown out, big formed version of the title.

All of that was a fucking intro?

Everyone seemed to remain silent, not even bothering to react yet, anticipating. 

Seconds later, the screen glitched out and a masked man appeared before us, surrounded in black as he began to speak, delivering a nod to the camera. 

“Whores have reigned far too long. Why should they have power over us? They were made to be raped and mutilated, like the good girls they could be. That’s why, here at the LM, we believe that lack of order must be wiped out.”

The voice came out distorted, low pitched as ever, animated claps sounding at the background as the slide changed. 

A picture of the president had popped up.

It was deep faked to present her as completely naked and on her knees, giving head to a men who pissing right into her mouth, a defiant look painted in her eyes.

”We will eliminate her. And then every woman in the branch of the US government. After that, we will send our believers into different areas across the world and command them to kill every woman they see.” 

The claps sounded again and another grotesque image had popped up of disfigured bodies placed in heaps on the ground, naked with some of them even skinned, watching the sky with no soul behind their eyes, left to rot like wheat in a field. 

“Eliminate if not accepting to be raped.” 

With that, the message ended and a single text popped up on the screen, glitching out.

‘Join us, or be eliminated.’

And just like that, the entire website closed down, the computer itself shutting down merely seconds later.

“I’m going to be sick.”

In what seemed like lightning reflexes from past experiences, I grabbed at the bucket off the floor and pressed it to Cairo’s chest,  taking a step back as if that would help me see the situation better. 

“And yet he fucked up.” 

The rest but Cairo who was gagging away in fear had now paid their attention to me, and just like that the spotlight shifted.

Yet I couldn’t help but feel my lip curl on the side as I smirked, internally thanking all the times I was trained to recognise the smallest of things within a video, over and over again in a series of almost 400 trials. 

”What kind of an idiot manages to eradicate all else but keeps a restaurant ring on his finger?” 

They all blinked, and then glanced back at the computer, seemingly forgetting that it had been shut down, eyes then landing back on to me again. 

”That too, the restaurant that could only be found in New York.” 

Constellations And Cravings. 

Oh, how I loved a good dessert. 

Chapter Text

Sairah’s POV:

I stayed up the entirety of what felt like the night just contemplating what he had said to me in that final interaction.

Did that mean he didn’t murder everyone he came across?

But then… what would he do with me?

If not kill me?

Why was I still here?

Would he lock me up forever? 

Was he just a loner? 

Then, the morning had come to roll around with every one of my somewhat idiotic questions taking up the space of my mind, and I had come to learn about an even bigger shock, dropped on to me with no sort of afore-mentioning. 

”I’m taking you elsewhere.”

He said it as casual as ever as if it was every day news, stood against the doorframe, letting the door itself hang behind him as slits of the room behind formed, giving me some more of an insight into where the hell I was being contained in the first place. 

But that’s just the thing. 

It wasn’t every day news. 

Every day news was a cat getting stuck up in a tree and firefighters bringing it down, or a nice discount in the local cafe.

Every day news was new job applications opening up in a paper, but this? 

Why was he transporting me around like I was goods to be taken from A to B?

“Where?”

And yet, I had to wonder to myself if inquiry was even worth it at this point.

It was stupid to even think about asking the question.

In what world could he ever come to say where?

He shifted off the door frame, peering behind him before taking a single step to the side, leaving a gap in the other. 

”Come outside the room.” 

What? 

I was almost too perplexed to make a move, wondering if he had slipped up and given me the wrong order, but the more time he spent not budging, the more I realised it wasn’t a mistake. 

I scrambled to my feet, his body not shifting once to deter me at any point, just following my footsteps with eyes, silent as ever to the side like always. 

This must’ve been some form of a dream, either that or I was just hallucinating.

Or he had already murdered me in my sleep and I didn’t even know, and God was showing me some form of an alternative route. 

Either way, nothing could ever prepare me for the way my body was propelled to that door for the taste of freedom, following behind him as he stepped off and began walking, myself following with a newfound eagerness.

I could still feel the soreness that had built up in my feet, but at least he hadn’t been tying me up to the chains anymore.

It was better than worse.

And now for the first time, I could finally come to see what was lurking behind the door, another section of the same area I had been confined in.  

I gulped, scanning the room.

The lights were barely on, the place dim as ever with a dark green reflecting off of the concrete walls. They were made out of a mixture of rock and steel, as if we were stuck inside some makeshift World War 2 bunker, a shitty attempt at a history project by a student trying to score for the extra credit. 

But that wasn’t what made thick goosebumps trickle up my arm, paralysing me to the spot. 

I was stood in front of four other men.

“Cairo.”

My eyes simmered back over to the one I was most familiar with, his voice coming off as bored as ever, quite obviously not motivated to speak up. 

He had a finger pointed up at the first person in the line and my eyes travelled across to meet the stare of a boy who didn’t seem to be much older than me at all.

In fact, I reckoned we could’ve been the same age.

He shot a hand up and waved vigorously with a passion, and I didn’t know whether I was more alarmed or comforted to see a form of personality in this place.

The murderer didn’t exactly know how to crack a joke or two.

But this guy, he looked like he could. 

He had some streetwear style clothing on, and wore an orange beanie over the top of his head, blonde curls tousled as they leaked out a little from underneath, his features reflective of a Moroccan descent. 

”Owen.”

The next man stood in line was of a larger stature to Cairo, and now I was looking at someone who had a more mature face as well.

He had a buzz cut, with his hair painted in bright streaks of a light red.

Khaki pants, a vest and a dog tag around his neck. A military man supporting a murderer? 

To be fair they weren’t all that different.

“Florian.”

This person seemed to sweat a lot more than the others, gleaming with every move, and out of them all he seemed the most timid.

He extended a hand towards me and my feet naturally told me to accept the shake, but the second we were going to make contact, I felt a tug back down on my arm.

I was yanked, this man clearly unwilling to approve. 

”No contact.”

As if I was a dog with rabies.

Florian on the other hand was much sweeter and apologised to me almost profusely, delivering an empathetic look, disappearing back into the line to stand alongside the rest.

He was older than the others, and yet even that said, he only seemed to be in his mid 30s at best. 

”Don.”

My eyes flickered along with the final name called out.

This man was the burliest in comparison to the rest.

He had more muscle than that of a whale could, and out of them all he was second most to intimidate me, towering.

He must’ve noticed as he offered a smile with a full set of white teeth coming out, and a part of me had come to feel at least somewhat grateful that he had attempted to make me comfortable.

A select few others wouldn’t exactly try. 

He took a step back into the line and now all of them were before my eyes, their own pupils flicking to me and then random objects within the room, mimicking what looked like a clumsy attempt to try and be respectful. 

I gulped, my eyes landing back on the obvious ring leader. 

”You will travel with us.” 

The mere words were as ambiguous as ever, leaving everything up to interpretation in my head. 

What was he playing at by choosing to be so completely unwilling to disclose anything properly? 

The answer had remained unknown to me, folded back into my mind in a box and stowed away, but regardless I couldn’t just stand there all limp with no sort of reaction. 

My hand found my arm naturally and squeezed around my other elbow as I worked in a meek attempt to hold myself, words coming out of me in a volume loud enough to get my point across with some clustered stutters. 

“W-where?” 

He scowled at me like I committed a crime by asking, his expression reading that of wanting to just abandon me instead for how I was questioning him. 

”I thought my lack of response made things clear earlier.” 

I swallowed down my words again, but it was futile. 

I was too curious. 

”Can I not know where I’m being taken?” 

My voice raised louder than I had wanted for it to, but it was too late to retract my words. 

The men shifted all nervously, and the youngest of them caught my eyes as he began to trail along to a computer behind him, slipping into the chair and glancing away.

I’d insulted their leader, it appeared.

All just by using a little bit of attitude in my tone. 

Would he develop a worse urge to kill me now? 

I stood there all awkwardly, hand still clutched around my elbow, waiting as he eyed me down like I was a problem, an expression reflecting bewilderment on his face. 

Then, I heard the keyboard clicking sound behind him, Cairo turning to the side as he clicked at the enter button. 

Before I knew it, I was tugged by the arm to the computer by said ring leader, my head tilted down by his fingers placed under my jaw, bringing me close to the brightness of the glow and making me face a map, squinting to tackle the intensity of the light. 

“There.” 

Fucking hell… New york?

Sun-Hyuk’s POV:

I had come to learn a lot about our little ‘victim’ within the next two hours I spent preparing for an unexpected trip to New York.

It was like listening to a poor attempt at a background podcast, but really it was just Cairo sat lazily in a suit that didn’t quite fit him, legs brought up in his gaming chair as he scrolled through the list of her socials.

“Activist. For women’s rights. Valedictorian. Top in both American and London schools-”

”That explains the accent. I was wondering how she could sound like one of us…”

Owen had slipped himself in from the darker corners of the bunker and paid attention with me now, both of us sat on the sofa together and wearing our own suits, fixing up the ties and doing the cufflinks.

“She used to do poetry. She’s posted nothing about it on her own accounts but competitions have all posted her face before. Oh and… she has a boyfriend too.” 

Cairo bent his head to the right of the screen so that both Owen and I could take a glance, and I felt a small sense of satisfaction rise over me. 

“That’s a gay man, Cairo. They’re hugging because he’s gay.” 

He squinted his eyes and leaned so far forward into his computer I suspected he’d fall in, but instead he managed to catch himself in time and sit back.

”How do you know?” 

“No straight man presses his cheek against a woman’s and looks up at the sky with a pout.” 

Honestly, sometimes I wondered how Cairo operated, being smart in one division and pathetic in the other.

He would’ve been horrible in suspect analysis if sexuality was involved.

God forbid we ever had a lesbian terrorist involved.

He’d rather have called her Lebanese. 

“She… she’s a…”

Sensing Cairo couldn’t quite bottle up what she was into a sentence, I decided to speak up and offer some light to the matter myself, offering my own opinions. 

”She’s a socialite for her own schools. She’s an academically rigorous person. She’s a middle child. She’s a darling little old daughter. She’s just another girl trying to escape the clutches of brown parents. Basic upon basic upon-“ 

The door clicked open in a sudden mover t and I paused at my words, taking a glance back, the atmosphere of the room shifting.  

A foot had slipped out, adorned in the red bottom heels I picked out.

Then slipped the legs, wrapped around by the black thread of tights.

The fabric looked presentable enough on the rack as I brought it out, but on those legs they could’ve sold for much more than they were worth. 

My gaze flittered upwards as I caught on to fingers slipping around the corner, painted in a deep crimson to match the look our artist had prepped for her from the services.

Then, came her face, red lips getting chewed away at, wide eyes lined with liner blinking back down and finding my face in the midst of it all. 

Sairah Madhani’s POV: 

How a murderer and his crew could have the time to find red nail polish, a black dress, lipstick, mascara, eyeliner and red bottom heels, I could never come to know.

Was he gay?

How could he have found such a beautiful match? 

I had a best friend like that, but trouble had come to trouble and we ended up falling out rather horrendously. He told half the school that I was a skank, and that I slept with 18 guys.

I only slept with 0. 

What was the reasoning may you ask?

I happened to be the one his crush had a crush on.

Well my fucking bad for appearing appealing to one person for once, as if I could choose who.

Now I was stood there looking not like a kidnapped victim but rather like someone who belonged tied to a man’s arm like an accessory, a hand wrapped around my waist as he presented me everywhere. 

In other words, I looked like a fashionable gold digger.

But in a way, as I turned around and faced the pocket size mirror he had given me to adapt to, I looked like the highest price gold digger I’d be willing to pay for.

He had left the door unlocked, for the first time seemingly ever.

I had kept it shut for the time being, letting myself for a second separate from the world on the other side of the room versus the small section of it I had to myself right now in this moment. 

If I was going to die at the hands of this man, at least I’d be apparently going to one of the richest restaurants in all of New York, wearing a pretty dress and finally being able to have a breath of the outside air.

I needed it from being cooped up like hell, after the several days I had spent in there, locked up like a frozen piece of meat in the bottom of a freezer.

I pressed the final coats of my lipstick on, seizing the handle of the door and then twisting. 

Dead silence.

I could’ve sworn they were talking merely seconds ago, but about what I couldn’t give you a clue.

Everything was muffled. 

Thinking perhaps they all shifted to another room instead, I had decided to sneak a peek around and see if they were gone. 

I set a foot out first.

No response.

Perhaps they were gone.

Then I gripped the handle of the door with a confidence a yanked at it, pulling it open and letting my eyes gain access to the rest of the room. 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Five sets of eyes were played right onto me, and seemingly two of them hadn’t even been in the room but they paused mid passing the threshold, fixated on me.

I mean come on, what were they?

Weeping angels? 

I had come to know them by the names of Florian and Don, and Florian swallowed.

Cairo on the other hand was always the one who has carried the most expression.

His eyes had widened up at me as he uncrossed his legs, setting them down on the ground and sitting up in his gaming chair, a creak sounding from the movement. 

Then my gaze had fallen on to the two on the sofa.

The man I had come to know of as Owen was similar to that of Cairo, but at least his mouth didn’t fall open all obviously.

A blonde buzz cut and a suit was questionable, but he was lucky he had a fairly good looking face. 

Then finally, the set of eyes I had avoided the most with all good reason.

We made eye contact and I felt my throat begging to gulp down, and yet I couldn’t succumb just yet.

He had a look in his eyes that I couldn’t quite categorise into any sort of group. 

He hadn’t looked at me like that before. 

Nothing was an option.

Maybe that’s what it was.

The look of nothing.

And yet for some reason, I could’ve sworn that somewhere in the depths of my mind, for once I had perhaps felt just a little… doused out. 

“I’m ready.”

I kept my eyes on him with the mention, straightening out my dress with my arms, taking a step forward and coming into full view for them. 

He had responded with a voice like he didn’t seem to care much, leaving me feeling even more cringed out by the second with my attempts to communicate with them.

”Okay.”

I instead had ended up featuring to the door again, ready to leave and shrivel up in ‘my room’, which seemed better than being watched by 5 men, unsure what the hell they were thinking about it. 

Did I look silly?

Whatever. 

I turned, ready as ever to slip back and leave. 

”Wait.”

Wait?

What was this?

The hospital?

Where the fuck was I supposed to wait?

I gave a second and hoped he would bother to enlighten me, but of course I was being a wishful thinker. I instead had turned on my heel again and continued to make a move, walking away to walk back to those four familiar walls. 

Then, God decided I shouldn’t be so wishful in His books. 

”Not there. Here.”

My eyes flickered, glancing around the room, avoiding all 5 of them and instead letting my eyes fall on the empty sofa. 

It was fine, all fine.

Until I remembered.

They must’ve all seen me vomit covered, walking through this bunker while I was blindfolded like a naive duck.

I could imagine the looks of disgust on their faces and the attempts to hide their gags, and all of a sudden the elegance I had felt alone left me and now I was just a woman who was playing dress up again. 

I slumped down on to the sofa as I reached it, wanting nothing more to sink in, his eyes narrowed down at me.

What could I possibly have done wrong this time?

Florian and Don finally shuffled into the room from the threshold of the door, time starting up for them again as they defrosted, coming into the centre where everyone else was present.

They had decided in hesitation to sit on the sofa that Owen and my kidnapper were on, and I watched as both of them shifted uncomfortably, all four of them connected by arms.

”What’s wrong with that sofa?” My kidnapper sounded as though he was losing his patience with every interaction, irked by his own ‘comrades’.

It was then, I started to realise that maybe the issue wasn’t always something I did wrong. 

It was in him to criticise. 

“Yeah.. it’s open, you know?“

Both Florian and Don had turned away from Owen who put in his own two cents and instead faced me, gulping back their words and then turning their heads back around again.

Like I was some sort of disease.

”What about the lady-“ 

“Oh, for the love of God.”

The way he emphasised it could have come to humour me in another situation, and to be fair it did even now, but I had to mask how I felt about it.

How could someone mention God as a murderer? 

As if hearing all of my inner thoughts, he had got up the second later and stalked over to me. I braced myself, irrational thoughts now surging through my mind as he got closer with every step, my eyes trailing down his black suit, a white shirt peeking from underneath.

My gaze never left him as he came the full length over, and his eyes never seemed to leave mine.

Goosebumps had trickled up me now as he got close enough to strangle, prepping himself to lean in and put an end to me.

 But then, all fear left my body in a flood of relief, keeping me sane enough for just the moment. 

I felt the sofa shift down beside me under the added weight of himself.

My eyes had shifted ever so slightly to the side of me, landing on his irritated look. There was a good chunk of space between us, and yet it had felt so intimate.

The prey sitting next to the predator.

In what universe? 

God, I’m not a murderer. So please… help me. 

Chapter Text

Hey guys, I hate to be one of those authors but you already know we have to have a little chat. 

I don’t know whether I should consider continuing or not, as I am not sure this is quite captivating to people.

So please, holla at your girl if you’re here and let me know. 

Just let me know some feedbacks too, or what you’d like to see from me. Just a couple words of if you want this to keep going would do just fine.

Thank you, beautiful ladies and gents. 

Chapter Text

Awkward silence didn’t exactly exist within everyone’s forte. 

They had instead all just remained sat down on the sofa, some of them in slumps and others straightened back, having nothing to say now that I had entered myself into the room, dissolving the previous atmosphere and creating a new, soppy, stale one. 

But then, I had become mentally saved. 

It was merely a gruelling few minutes of light torture contemplating what the hell was going on in my life up until now before the youngest, Cairo, had made the first move.

“You wanna try aim for higher than me?” 

Nerves were still running in high inside of my body as blood gushed through, a sweat starting to trickle up my own back from the sheer heat of the room, but surprisingly enough that gaming chair of his was undoubtably cushiony and expensive. 

It was no doubt why he always sat inside of it. 

“You’re actually doing fairly okay.” 

He murmured. 

I had somehow managed to build up the ability to let my guard down for a more than a few seconds and even lean back, my exposed skin hitting the coolness of the leather-like fabric that was behind me, fingers working in a full concentration on the same 4 keys on the board, a snake moving in various directions before us to collect sets of apples.

It turned out, Snake had suddenly become the sole purpose of my life now, in this room.

My eyes remained heavily fixated on the screen, avoiding all four surrounding barriers that would try to knock me down, all in hope that I could at least make it past the score at the top of the board, a large three digit number intimidating me every time my eyes flickered up towards it. 

My score was nowhere near that. 

I hadn’t even left the 2 digits yet, and I’d been playing a while now. 

But then again, maybe when you’re kidnapped, time moves slower than it should.

”Almost there…”

His hand had latched around the back of the chair in anticipation, leaned in to see the screen better, the blazer sleeves of that suit of his colliding with my shoulders every now and then. 

They really couldn’t find him his own size? 

I panicked, jamming my finger on the button that appeared to be stuck, but it was to no avail whatsoever. 

I watched as the blue, googly eyed slither of a thin snake had crashed straight into the wall after what felt like impending doom, its entire body smashing in, folding up like a paper origami, the lower pitched noise of losing the game sounding, mocking me as my score showed up on the screen.

110. 

Then, I was whipped back into the harshness of my reality, the slight scent of men and metal inhaled through my nostrils again, all as I sat up in the chair, hands laid out on to my lap. 

“Tough luck.” 

Cairo had taken the opportunity and clicked out of the game, exerting control over the mouse as he switched off the computer, twisting around the chair to now face me to the rest of the room. 

They were all watching us, waiting. 

I gulped, about to get up and free him his spot to go find somewhere else, perhaps where there wasn’t seemingly a thousand eyes on me, when all of a sudden I felt a  palm come down to still me.

”It’s fine, you sit here.”

Cairo had offered, a grin landing down on his face, opening up in an attempt to appear kind and friendly, and be the first to deliver me somewhat of a nice experience.

”You sure?” 

He nodded his head the second after, his eyes then falling off of me and on to the rest of his ‘team members’, who were all waiting for us to quieten down so that they could begin, one of them a lot less patiently in comparison to the rest of the others. 

He leaned in from where he was sat on the sofa, directly across from me almost on purpose like another way to intimidate, lowering down a map from his hand, flattening it out before everyone on the wood table that stayed in the centre between them all. 

They had all taken a moment and leaned in themselves, curious as ever as the expression wrote itself on their faces, whilst I had felt no need whatsoever to even bend forward or squint my eyes. 

I was the kidnapped in this case, what good was a map to me if I couldn’t exactly go anywhere I wanted anyways? 

“Constellations and Cravings is here.” 

His index finger had landed right on to a symbol of a coffee cup that was drawn above an expanse of a building, the ratio of it’s rectangled, summed up grey surface seeming to be much larger than the accompanying shapes that stacked up beside it. 

Alright, maybe I was a little interested. 

Who didn’t want to be in the loop?

”We come in from here.” 

His finger shifted from one end to the other with a precision and no sense of need for redirection, as if he had the layout printed out in his mind from the first glance. 

It was the absolute end of the road at the far corner of the map now, half of it cut off, leaving me with no sense of how the rest of our journey would’ve looked like. 

It wasn’t like we were in New York. 

“Whereabouts are we in comparison?” 

I thanked my lucky stars for the existence of Cairo, tilting my head up to now look at him as he still remained behind my chair, hands still clutching on to the outline of it. 

But of course, his leader was an absolute ass, who had spent more of his time wanting to sit there and be mysterious. 

“About 11 hours away.” 

I felt my head snap back towards him before I could stop the swift movement, his eyes not even flinching towards the idea of meeting my own, my protests dissolving at the lack of reaction before I even had the chance to express how I felt about it all. 

I wasn’t a person up for negotiating in this conversation. 

I wasn’t even a part of this conversation to begin with.

I was just the victim, given orders to dress up all fancy and presentable. 

Like a dog tied to a leash to follow, that not anyone had a clue what to actually do with. 

Cairo nodded his head from above me, delivering a single hum of agreement, although it was obvious he had felt a certain way himself about the length of the journey. 

Anyone could see that. 

“We’ll go now. We find the fucker and we just have a conversation with him, that’s all And then, we disable him.” 

I’d heard those same exact words before. 

At the river, right after he slaughtered that man into two separated pieces. 

I got goosebumps all over my skin just from the casual re-use of it, as if it was accessible in his daily terminology. 

That should not have been someone’s daily terminology. 

Alarm rose inside of me, faintly. 

Within seconds, all of them had begun rising and standing at full height before me, shifting out of their spaces like pieces of a puzzle moving along in clockwork, harmoniously getting to where they needed to be at different corners of the room. 

I on the other hand had just awkwardly sat there, eyes flickering between each focused man, awaiting for at least one of them to cast an eye over and acknowledge that I was sat functionless like a bag of potatoes, not having ever done anything with these people before. 

So I waited. 

Like an oaf. 

‘Don’ had started pulling shipments of cargo out of the room and taking it elsewhere through a desolate hallway, the first to abandon the rest, set on a job he seemed to know far too well for my own liking. 

Cairo clicked and clacked on those keys behind me like it all came naturally to him, and my eyes had landed on the screen to see that he was pulling up specific coordinates and transferring it to the GPS system within a vehicle, likely the one we would have to all fit inside after. 

How in hell was I meant to embark on a mystical journey with 5 men I had no sort of valid evidence for to even trust an ounce? 

One of them quite literally being a kill-

“You. Get up.” 

I quit berating them as the critic I was in my thoughts, half not wanting for anyone to catch a glimpse of my judgment and the other half in shock that the first to come to talk to me was the man who looked to be the least pleased with my existence out of them all. 

My legs abided without much complaint at all against him, the warmth of the chair disappearing from underneath me like a warning as I stood at full height myself now, the breeze of the overworked fan landing on the bare lower half of my legs. 

I didn’t even realise that Cairo’s chair had a seat warmer installed in it. 

The room was boiling. 

“Go to the car with Owen.”

He instructed me with little patience in his tone, his head nodding once in direction of Owen, the man with the blonde buzzcut who also wore a suit and was stood patiently at the side, awaiting me with a curled grin of his own. 

It would’ve been a lot more welcoming of a gesture had it not been for the grenades he was holding in heaps within his hands, cradled like babies. 

Although, maybe they were that precious to him. 

I nodded my head once back at Mr. Murderer who seemed unappeased by the gesture, eyes still devoid as ever as he stared down at me, observing until I shifted from being frozen like a pack of sardines in one spot and had headed to Owen in the other. 

My steps were alarmingly loud for my own liking, and I had come to wonder if Mr Murderer would regret the choice that he himself had picked out, my entrance and the direction of the path I walked being announced everywhere, quite involuntarily. 

“Don’t mind him. He always looks a little sour.” 

The words had come out in a slither of a whisper and with a tone of humour behind them that was somewhat relieving, his buzzcut close to view now as he leaned down to me, cautious as ever to not let the words reach the wrong ears. 

I could see the outline of faint, lighter X’s, painted the whole lengthways of his head, like a print he had stamped on at every empty spot. 

“Nice hair.” 

The words had tumbled out of my mouth like spilled alphabet soup before my brain could come to inform me that I was still talking to the accomplice of a murderer, and the dread within my stomach only grew in taunting depth as he looked surprisingly joyed with my mistake of a compliment. 

Great. 

“Thanks. Nice look.” 

His words back to me were as genuine as ever, the curl on his lips only seeming to expand as he spoke to me, his hands ridding themselves of the stack of grenades as he piled them up, one by one into a black cart. 

“I agree, very chic.” 

Florian had offered his two cents, squinting at it with his glasses pressed up against the length of his nose, more appreciative than ever. 

I was stuck in a situation I had never envisioned myself before, and so I succumbed to the most obvious answer. 

“Thanks, both of you.” 

Fucking idiot! Who says thanks to killers-

“I’m sorry, were my orders unclear?” 

I stepped to the side in a single step and turned to face him, all three of us now  stood with sewn mouths and forced silent by the intrusion, only able to watch him with no excuse like 3 guilty people caught red handed in the act. 

Not even his comrades could get a say in, but something told me they likely never even tried. 

“Car. Now.” 

He used his head again as a lazy guidance, nodding in the direction of where both Cairo and Don had now taken off, down the hallway, towards where I assumed the outside world would have to be, waiting for me. 

“Now.” 

Confused, I tilted my head to the side. 

Where the hell did Florian and Owen go? 

Fucking hell…

They took off like a bunch of traitors. 

I scurried off, following behind to see their silhouettes in the distance down the hallway, mentally cursing them out for leaving me in the same room as that man. 

Chapter Text

They stood outside in a straight, horizontal, single formation line, side by side with one another as they waited in patience, eyes focused on the horizon of the skyline before us all. 

For what? I couldn’t seem to tell. 

If it was for him, that was worse. 

I didn't know a human could have it in him to be so stuck up and horrific to force his comrades to stand out there in the blistering cold, awaiting patiently as a selfish man like him took his sweet time inside of the warm inside. 

I sighed out for them all, a gesture mainly kept to myself by making it as quiet as possible, then choosing to join beside them at the space in the end, feeling the texture of rough gravel on an uneven surface beneath my feet as I waddled over in the heels. 

Fresh air that didn’t carry the scent of men’s cologne nor my own mixed up chemicals of vomit had now smelt sweet to me in a drastic form of a change, as if my nose had been conditioned to the previous fragrances that were permanently occurring within the air of that bunker.

The sun on the other hand had made it’s delightful appearance within the sky but for some reason refused to join us in our formation at the ground, a chilling gust of air landing on my exposed skin every now and then, my body forcing itself to not release shivers that spoke of my vulnerability. 

The van parked up in front of us had been packed to the brim with the items they had delivered in, with space only reserved for a few sets of cushions in the back, an alarmingly low amount of space between each one. 

In theory, I could’ve made the hopeful attempt to run. 

My feet had even teetered back and forth between the decision of trying to attempt such a thing and the other of remaining completely still, and yet in my mind my choice was always clear. 

I wasn’t stupid. 

Running from 4 overpowering men was a one way ticket towards my own impending doom. 

“What?” 

I was snapped out of my meaningless contemplating by the noise of his sharp voice raising over the low whistles of the wind, a snap that was directed towards the whole of us.

His eyes had landed personally on each and every one who was stood before him, facial features screwing up in confusion less and less subtly the further along he went in the line with that look. 

And then, he landed on me.

My eyes had attempted poorly to shift off of him but it was merely seconds before I was drawn back like a moth to a light, his glare appearing as permanent as ever. 

He had paused for what seemed like a fair bit of time, and then with no pre-disclaimer, his fingers had reached up to pinch at that nose bridge of his with an unnecessary passion, eyes screwed shut as if keeping a thousand words bottled up inside. 

So much for team morale. 

He had quite obviously carved his team into a load of pleasers, cowering horribly before the sight of a cruel man like him-

“She’s not going to bite you. She’s just a girl.” 

What? 

Me? 

Now you hang on here. 

His words had come out in the form of a lesson for the deaf, slow and enunciated as ever, narrowed eyes landing back on each and every one of his men, the patience dripping out of his voice with every thought that they continued to remain standing there, not taking the hint.

“M-Me?” 

I hadn’t even realised that I had said the words out loud in such disbelief rather than in the safe comfort of my own mind, his pupils next landing on me next like a silent threat, warning me to keep my lips shut. 

And that I did. 

Then, I watched Florian’s eyes fall on to me himself from the change of focus, himself being dead silent in a single pause before he released out a heavy breath, his composure entirely dissolving as his shoulders slacked. 

“But… We’ll bump into her on the ride and… and she’ll feel uncomfortable with a group of men in the ba-“ 

“Will you?” 

I was so captured in the act of listening to Florian’s surprisingly heartfelt stumbled explanation that I hadn’t the slightest of an inkling that Mr Murderer had turned himself towards me, dismissing the excuses before they could unfold any longer and seeking proof from the source mentioned itself. 

I gulped. 

His eyes were really fucking intimidating. 

“N-No…” 

I shook my head as if it was missing a screw, loose as ever to accompany the splurted out answer I gave, as if not enough of an expression of my own opinion would instead come to earn me my own scolding from him. 

And I didn’t want him directing that fire towards me. 

“Good. Then everyone gets in.” 

They dissipated like bees following the orders of the Queen from that formation as quick as they had worked to build it, entering the van in what appeared to be their usual spots, marked by their ‘tools’ all being placed beside them. 

But that wasn’t the only thing I seemed to notice. 

There was no cushion placed for me. 

Just the hard floor that was in the centre of those cushions. 

I swallowed in, my body as reluctant as eve with it’s stiffness, having to force myself to break out of that feminine discomfort before stepping towards the opening of the vehicle in my heels. 

I would’ve made it too, somehow, before I felt a strong hand grip at the back of my dress and yank me like a dog pulled by it’s collar, alarmingly surprised that I didn’t stumble and land on the floor from the unexpected contact, but left pissed as ever from the aggression that was used. 

“I changed my mind.” 

My head tilted back as I glanced up to face him, as perplexed as ever by the sudden switch in his instructions. 

But what good was my placing in of an opinion? 

Clearly not worth much at all. 

He let go of me, the brief tension slipping from my neck as I regained my balance, brushing myself off with my eyes seared into his back. 

Then, I took a glance back inside of the van. 

Their eyes shifted away in split seconds, becoming conveniently encapsulated by the same tools that they’d likely seen for the greater lengths of their time in that bunker, a measly attempt to make me feel less humiliated by how I was just forced out. 

I could’ve let out a scoff at that but it was practically worthless. 

I just held it in to myself, slipping past them with not any other thought, observing the floor cautiously as I made the moves in hopes of not getting my heel stuck within a hole in the ground. 

Then, I let my red tip painted fingers land on the smooth surface of the white handle that was now in front of me, reeling my hand back in with a solid grip, the door opening up only to leave me to deal with another unexpected situation. 

“Uh… If you… don’t mind.” 

Owen appeared behind me with a gentle tone, and yet still a spook had struck the core of my heart, my mind still not able to separate all of these men from the ideas of them being my kidnappers, with me having no clue what they were actually capable of. 

“Get in.” 

I blinked as my eyes wavered around the space that was in front of me, an arguably far smaller compartment than I would’ve wanted for the sake of my own self, and reeking horribly of danger. 

To be specific… 

I would have to sit next to the murderer. 

“It’s either you get in, or Owen shoves you in.” 

Owen took in a sharp breath within seconds as if to prepare to reject the idea, but then Mr Murderer’s meticulous eyes flickered behind me like that of a vulture, landing narrowed onto the poor soul and stilling his need to correct that sentence. 

He seemed to be able to do that with everybody around here. 

But I didn’t need pushing.

I wasn’t going to bother rebelling. 

I prepped myself the best that I could in that tightness of a dress, one foot laid flat on the bottom of the van with the other still on the ground beneath me, both hands holding on to the insides for dear life, hesitating while preparing myself mentally for the idea of being hoisted up. 

“Boss, should I just help-“ 

I felt two familiar large hands grab me without any form of permission or principle around my waist, careless as if transporting cargo with both limbs rough handling me just like when my shower finished, hoisting me up off the floor and into the car within seconds, finishing the job that would’ve taken much more effort from myself.

There was no way in hell I just let a murderer lift me up into a van. 

And yet, it seemed I was in hell myself. 

God, if Hanah could hear the shit that I was getting into. 

He returned almost effortlessly into the driver’s seat, the space between his and the other unveiling itself before me, a makeshift cushion popping out distinctly from in between, welcoming in all of it’s ironically tethered appearance. 

Just fucking great. 

Just like riding on Aladdin’s magic carpet. 

I slithered in beside him with no choice, hiding away the grotesque expression that had creeped up on my face from the feel of my thigh unwillingly pressed up against his, the situation seemingly only worsened as Owen placed himself into the car afterwards, shutting the door behind him and leaving all three of us trapped in the claustrophobia. 

Good golly fuck. 

“Alright. I’ll start driving now.” He announced, his voice far more aggravating from the perspective of being sat side by side with him, unable to channel the drone in his tone out successfully. 

And just like that, with his foot pressed down on to the accelerator, we were on the road. 

Chapter Text

You could cut through the tension with a knife and it would still come out connected, a thin line present halfway to indicate that it was now just two solid blocks instead of one. 

In other words, it was pretty fucking present, and not seconds close to dissipating into the air. 

The road ahead of us was filled with nothing but an abundance of just green scenery on the side consisting of that of overbearing trees, shrubs and long stems of grass. 

In front? 

The empty, barren, deserted excuse of a road. 

Not a single human being nor animal to come past for so long it felt like I was hallucinating them not being there, as opposed to the much more expected opposite. 

I’d quite literally ended up treating it as though it was a game, peering my eyes out of the front window in particular for signs of life, left more and more puzzled by the lack of it to come. 

The bumps beneath us were subtle when we would pass over the smallest of rocks, and yet with every time we had actually passed, the van made sure to notify us with raging, screeching noises, alarming as ever inside of my mind as I wondered what could’ve damaged it so. 

Age? Attacks? 

Who could’ve known?

“That’s not fair!” 

Cairo’s sulking had captured my attention as I tuned out the cacophony of vehicle noises and instead traded them for his constant expressions of how unfair the game they had been playing was. 

Inference told me it was Go Fish from the constant muffle of questions, and yet the incessant swearing was working its way into convincing me that really they were playing Bullshit. 

I hated to say it, but sat in the front between two rocks had made me feel an immense FOMO for the noises that were erupting constantly within the back. 

I felt an itch under the skin of my elbow, temporarily retreating my focus there as I scratched it, delivering a short lived satisfaction. 

“I like your nails.” 

I shot my head up from the acknowledgement, tilting it to face the right where Owen had been sat with his head against the back of the seat, blue eyes faltered down to the movements of my fingers rubbing back and forth over the flesh of my arms. 

I stilled them in response, drawing them back to the centre of my lap again and taking my eyes off of him before it grew out of place. 

“Thank you.” 

In truth, my nails were one of my prides. 

I used to get somewhat bullied for them when I was younger in my old British school, people asking like rabid news reporters every time they caught glimpses of it how I could let them grow to such a length when it was deemed unhealthy to leave them unattended that long. 

Some even took to saying that I had wanted to be a witch, and that I wasn’t too far off. 

But my nails were well kept. 

They maintained a whitish, almost clear form of a colour, never breaking back or snapping at any point, and when glossed over with some pigments, they thrived. 

My fingers themselves were also unbelievably slender to the point of needing rings that were custom made, one size or simply not stocked up in shops, although there wasn’t much weight to me in general if I’m being honest, courtesy of a fast metabolism inherited from that of my father. 

“It’s nice you like my nails.” 

I hid them into a folded curl whereby the tips of them had ended up grazing the middle of my palm, not a single glimpse of red to show up at any point. 

“I think it’s nice you have them to even begin. They’re natural right?”

I mean, they would have to be.

He’d already seen the bareness of them before I had been able to decorate across the long lengths, and that too the worst of me in a state of being covered by vomit without a shower.

I cringed internally at the mere thought, my eyes flicking over once to Mr Murderer who had been dead silent this entire time as if he didn’t exist, sharp and purposeful eyes not willing to meander anywhere away from the winding road in front of us. 

His jawline was acknowledgeable.

From one glance, I was sure that the slither of the line at the bottom of his face could cut paper if slid across it, a direct show of his care towards himself.

As much as I hated his guts for how he delivered me into this fate, I had to admit that he was overwhelmingly healthy looking, and he had the muscles present all over him like proof to back the thought up.

“Yeah, they’re natural.” 

I was so lost in the carved out features of his face that existed so entirely naturally and yet so well fitted, I completely had forgot that the person to the right side of me was even speaking up, even so waiting for an answer to arise out of me with full patience.

His eyes were always narrowed or tensed. 

It was like he couldn’t bother to open them up once and view the world that way, instead choosing willingly to plaster a permanent look of discontent over the cast of his face, only enabling the deep distill inside of him. 

And yet, he was undoubtably beautiful. 

If I hadn’t bumped into him at the wedding, I likely would’ve been planning our own inside of my mind, courtesy of a teenager’s ambitious thoughts running wild paired with all the sentiment going on around her. 

“You do look very pretty, you know?” 

I cast my glance back over to Owen with a polite smile, repeating his words like a tape recorder and hearing the words echo in the confines of my own mind, allowing myself some time more to process what he actually said to me before being able to even generate a response of my own. 

“Ah, thank you… Honestly. That’s so kind.” 

I’d had people compliment my looks before. 

Well, that was a flat out lie.

I’d had girls and women alike compliment my looks before.

But a man? 

Such a rare occurrence that I just told people I didn’t attract their attention at all.

When prompted, of course.

I pulled the skirt of my dress further down till the fabric covered my knees, leaning over in the makeshift excuse of a seat with care to not flash anything, a burst of energy coming through me as I aimed my fingers for the radio that was in front of all three of us. 

It might’ve been the only thing to chill my nerves. 

My fingers had almost made it on their journey as well, mere touches away from being able to taste victory and sweet success itself, all before a hand clasped around mine like a vicious reflex, shoving the outstretched limb back into my lap with no remorse, his palm then coming to lightly push me back by my collarbone into the pillow behind the seat, retracting any efforts I had even bothered to make. 

It was obvious. 

How could I remotely even try? 

“Come on…”

Owen protested, letting out a breath of empathy as he angled his head off of the seat, gathering a full view of Mr Murderer in order to express his ‘argument’.

“No.” 

The noise was low, flat out and direct, his eyes still not wavering from the length of the road as he kept them fixated there, choosing of course to indulge in a greater preference for being so boring over the idea of entering a conversation with his comrade or doing something as simple as letting some music into the car. 

How could someone have it in them to be so unbearable? 

I mean come on, did he even get any women at this rate? 

“We’re going to be in this car for hours, we may as well…”

He flashed his first look over at Owen, delivered as nothing less than a deep threat. 

It would’ve shut me right up. 

I knew that for sure.

”Please-“

He was ready enough to drone out the word and feign something similar to begging, hands clasping over one another in an attempt to act more dramatic before he was quite rudely interrupted, the voice coming through even more stubborn than before.

”We’re not here to entertain the victim.” 

He said it with such technicalities as if it was written down in bold red pen in a rule book, picking to wistfully ignore all the parts where I had already spoken to all of them, and even had the chance to play a game with one. 

Thankfully, he was losing his touch. 

I wasn’t exactly a victim anymore. 

I took in a deep breath, my lips parting now more than ever, all as I found the courage to share my thoughts for the first time in a long time. 

The air staled.

”Not a single word.” 

I sewed my mouth shut till both my lips pressed down hard on one another, almost coming to internally laugh out of the sheer humour of how I could sit there and genuinely for a second believe that I had a say in anything. 

“What is she meant to do this entire time?”

Owen inquired, curiosity evident in his tone as he sat there beside me, most of his body now off the back of the seat, leaning forward to get a good enough view.

”Breathe, and think about how lucky she is to breathe.” 

It was almost egotistical for him to believe that I didn’t do that with every second I was even awake, forced back into the bitter reality that I had no clue where I really was, with men who could do anything to me. 

Well, I had hoped not… anything. 

“Or sleep. Either one.” 

-

The night was treacherously closing in on us as we passed thickets and towering forest trees, and yet I could only watch him in a state close enough to awe but not quite as appreciative, wondering to myself how a human could display the same look on their face for that many hours. 

It was like he would remain in his own world, contained inside of his own thoughts, all until the point of us actually reaching New York.

I hadn’t heeded his advice very well. 

Eyes drifting, drawn deep into the landscape before us, my lids still as propped up as ever, I was merely in a state close enough to bliss. 

You’d be surprised how hours in a car with a murderer sat in the front seat beside you with no sort of conversation generated could force your mental panic attacks to subside and fizzle out, your heart’s beat unable to do anything but slow itself down. 

That, and hearing laughter combined with friendly conversation merely a metre at best behind you, coming from a group of people you could’ve easily imagined to be normal 

I cast another glance over at him. 

His features were still so tensed, as if they didn’t know what it meant to relax.

It caused me to wonder, had he ever experienced the sensation? 

Why didn’t he join in on their laughter? 

Did he have to always be so rigid? 

I blinked, the mascara I had worn hours ago now solidified, clumping as my lashes touched the underneath of my eyes, reminding me in the most niche way that I was still dressed like this, wearing the exact same thing I was hours ago. 

Except now, I didn’t feel pretty. 

I felt like a girl at the front of the vehicle, just waiting painstakingly for the journey before her to come to a needed end. 

I was going to become carsick at this rate-

“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to stare?” 

Fuck. 

I cranked my head away in an instant, blood rushing through the upper half of my body as I closed my hands around myself in a tight hold, leaning back in the sorry excuse of a seat as if I could come to disintegrate into it. 

“I- I wasn’t…”

He let out a more than heard scoff, his face being freed from that frozen look of concentration into something entirely unconvinced, almost intrigued by my ability to… lie.

”Right, and I’m not Korean.” 

The curl in his lip had faded away like clouds over the sun with the words that had released themselves from his mouth, hand shifting it’s grip on the steering wheel, tightening ever so slightly around the thick rubber. 

Bingo. 

“You’re Korean?” 

It was like watching someone’s social battery drain its life out before you, his disinterest almost pungent just by how direct it was. 

“It doesn’t matter-“ 

“I’m Bengali… and… Indian.” 

There was nothing to lose. 

He’d already had situations of me curled up in my own vomit to sleep, as well as knowing how I showered, and more so the way I’d looked in absolute fear, when my life was on a line. 

The colour of my skin was already most of the giveaway, if not all. 

The words seemed to slip into one of his ears and out the other, more unfazed by my confession than any other thing I had managed to tell him. 

I swallowed down the possible conversation that could’ve occurred between us, the very taint of a smile that had crept on to me wavering, collapsing with my hopes as I turned to face a comfortable, sleeping Owen, snoring as profusely as ever in the other seat.

The sky was nothing but pitch black, shadows haunting the woods in slithers and silhouettes, the wind whistling along grand speeches in hopes that someone would listen and decipher.

I wished I could decipher.

I understood how lonely the wind was-

“South Asian weddings are intense.”

My head snapped back to face him. 

Looks wise, I hadn’t expected anything, and that was exactly what I got. 

His eyes only wavered once from the road to the scenic visuals on the side as did mine, and then back towards the never ending painted white lines on tarmac that laid out forever before the both of us, almost like a hell of an optical illusion. 

“They are…” 

I stretched my feet out in an impulse move on the floor in-front of me, feeling the light stiffness inside of my heels and lower legs drizzle out, taking advantage of the solid barrier between us melting just enough so that I could place myself into a more natural position. 

Straight backed and hands on thighs taking up as little space as possible didn’t seem to do absolute wonders for my body. 

“I like them. They’re really joyful and… and loud… and it’s nice to know the people you love have found someone.” 

God, how sappy could I sound? 

I picked at my crimson coated nails like a careless wreck, eyes drifted off of him and instead on to my fidgeting fingers, mind flashing back in a snap to the dream of that experience, all before I ran. 

It had only been two days or so in total, and yet it had felt so far now. 

Did they even send out missing person posters for me? 

“Your father ran into me too at one point.” 

His thumb began rubbing at the steering wheel now, hand still clasped around it as he kept driving, letting out so much and yet so little at the same time. 

“Yeah? What did you do?” 

I was fixated, and I felt something like gears clicking within my chest, the sight of the side of his lip threatening to curl upward leaving lights flashing in my mind as a form of acknowledgment.

“You say it like I would've kidnapped him too.”  

A breath of laughter came out of me before I could stop it, the muscles on the lower half of my face clenching, a grin slipping on to my features as I imagined the thought. 

“My father wouldn’t run into the woods like that.”

His thumb began rubbing again at that, back and forth, a rhythm somewhat forming against the wheel. 

“You ran in?” 

I recalled it, with every single second. 

The twigs underneath my feet snapping. 

The shouts he bellowed over to me. 

The sheer rage in his voice.

The noises of parts of my dress stretching and ripping. 

Grass and leaves alike crunching, bombarding my eardrums. 

“Yeah, I did.” 

Again, a silence had seemed to dwindle like normality between us. 

It became a regular routine of ours now, to gather what we would say next. 

Although, I was confidently certain that I didn't know more than 5% of what he was thinking, what with how much he seemed to retreat back into his own mind, and what little came out as a result. 

“Why?”

His eyes flickered down to me and I met them, taking hint of the shape that they were, and the faintest of colour I could see highlighted out with the passing street lights shining down on them. 

They could trap people. 

“Why did you kill him?”

His adam’s apple had shifted up and then down inside of his throat, the spotlight leaving me stranded as it positioned itself back on to the road, and all of a sudden I could feel the icy cold of the atmosphere, the barrier reformed thicker than before now. 

“Go to sleep, or stay an insomniac.” 

Right. 

Chapter Text

My eyelids grew thick slits alongside the wavering of noise that was seeping into my head, the sheer light forcing itself into my pupils, intolerable as I pulled a hand up over my face in some form of a weak defence, blocking out the illuminated force of gleaming brightness. 

“And she wakes.” 

Owen’s raspy voice after a lengthy, tiresome nap was not something I would’ve anticipated to be the first thing I’d hear after sleep stole me. 

It was still teetering at the night that I ended up drowsing away to, except now there were shades of orange staining the sky, and the numbers on the radio had worked to deliver me puzzled in my assumptions. 

It was 4AM. 

I straightened my back out in response and stretched out my stiff limbs, coming to realise that I’d separated my lazy head from its previous contact with something hard and firm, tilting my head to the side in order to investigate as to what could be so soft. 

My eyes widened as if I’d seen my own grave, and my heart stilled as if it’d never come to beat again.

”W-why didn’t you say something?” 

He flitted his eyes down to me as though I was an insignificant distraction to his driving, his gaze landing onto the side of my head before he removed what could’ve become a stare, taking in a sharp breath of irritation and adjusting his shoulder as it embellished its freedom from my trappings. 

“You’re far easier to deal with dead asleep.”

I had a feeling that the word ‘asleep’ didn’t need to be added. 

My mouth came slightly ajar with that confession like a door with broken, creaking hinges, a look of pure disbelief blatantly written on the length of my face, the audacity of this constantly riled up excuse of a man to profess such rude claims.

”I had to weigh in my options and make a dreaded decision.” 

“Well if you wanted me to remain quiet, you could’ve just-“

”We’re here.” 

My mouth snapped shut as my head cranked its positioning towards the front window of the car, silenced only to glance upon the view before us. 

Sure enough, we’d entered.

-

“Pay attention. I’ll only explain once.” 

In absolute truth, there was no reason for me to be sat there amongst them, all of us neatly arranged in a tight circle like a bunch of spiritual people performing a ritual in front of a ouija board, leaned in as if the next dialogue to come out of him would even concern me. 

But what would I have done perched at the front of the van? 

I took my chances and quietly followed like a mouse, the second he had parked outside of the elaborate building and clicked open that door, not a single word spoken to me.

Wasn’t he in the slightest frightened that I’d make a run for it and report them all? 

But then again, I was more the idiot to not even think of the idea till now, forced inside of the makeshift seance with them, Cairo offering me an apologetically awkward attempt of a smile as he shifted himself into another position with every time his knees made contact with mine, dreadfully respectful. 

“We go in separately. Groups which I’ve already assigned, due to specific reasons.”

Knowing what little of him I did, I had to shoo away the reoccurring pest of a thought that he’d likely put me all alone, as if I’d be a detriment to his stupid mission with his mates. 

“That ring is only handed to people who come daily to receive that level of membership, so I have no doubt we’ll run into little Misogynist Dickhead any time soon.” 

I swallowed at his emphasis, blinking my eyes as I tuned out from the rest of his lengthy words, a bunch of non-stop yap about technical stuff and a long list of gadgets that I had no clue about. 

Rich for someone like him to be on about misogynist dickheads… 

He was more than halfway there.

I mean honestly, what did he even classify as a kidnapping? 

Or was it only different when he did it? 

“Cairo will upload the security cameras and help us to locate him quicker if we have troubles, and Don you can go with him to prevent any altercations with guards…” 

I mean come on, here I was sat here like a mess in a red dress, dried up drool likely down the side of my face, looking like I’d slept in what I was wearing the whole day. 

Oh… wait. 

Maybe because I did due to a certain outrageously inhumane, detestable, horrible someone.

”Florian, I’m inquisitive of if you can somehow get him to ingest a sleeping pill of some sort or slip a drug into his drink so that taking him out is easier. I don’t want to have to deal with that coward flailing. And Owen, you can assist Florian and stay on standby to alert everyone else of when I get in. I booked an invite for myself so we should be good, I’m sure I can get us all in…”

I mean seriously, I didn’t even catch wind of a single thing that had come out of his untrustworthy mouth, too deathly afraid that I myself would end up with my boredom seeping out of me, eyes rolling and sighs being released before I could hold back either one. 

“And chances are that when I take her inside there, the pervert as he is will be drawn to the bait and introduce himself to me like a half-wit, therefore helping our plan transform into something much more efficient.” 

I mean come on, he’s just as atrociously bad as whatever pathetic bastard he was rambling on about.

Talking about manipulatively using an innocent, sweet, poor lady as bai-

“What?!” 

My voice rose higher than that of his, dispelling the compacted atmosphere of pure focus he had created between nodding men, all those heads instead shifting in their broken gazes to land on the little interruption that was me, my face strongly contorted into that of a harsh disagreement. 

In other words, what the fuck did he just say? 

“Is there some sort of an iss-“

Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. 

“The issue,” 

I stood my ground firmer than I ever did, goosebumps trickling down my exposed shoulders as I felt everyone’s stares stiffen around me, dead silent like petrified mannequins as I directly challenged their ‘leader’.

“Is that you think it’s okay to use me as bait to lure some disgusting pervert in… and that’s why you dressed me up like this fricking sorry excuse of a barbie doll and forced me to come here after that gruellingly mundane van ride of 13-ish hours.”

I gulped, the silence from the lack of my shouts dawning as the last slithers echoed inside of the walls of the van, leaving me in a daunting state of realisation over the ominous anticipation I’d left behind for him to respond.

”And I haven’t fucking peed.” 

I added, although for what reason I couldn’t tell you. 

Now, I was sure I was going to die.

And the look on all their faces, alongside the thick glare of his towards my outspoken ‘audacity’ had told me the same in a prophecy. 

“You’re going to get out this van.” 

His voice was unmistakably lowered, direct and even more non-negotiable now than ever, his head raised up till his chin angled straight, addressing me in front of everyone sat there as if delivering a casual death sentence of some sort. 

But he was the executioner, and I knew it. 

“You’re going to latch that hand around my arm.” 

I hadn’t even noticed the way my nails were tearing away at the dried up paint on top of them until he had chosen to acknowledge it with his eyes landing on them, the glossy shine of my own pinkish hue revealed now in small dents underneath the matte. 

“You’re going to walk in there with me.” 

The idea was a cruel, sharp pain in the ass to even conjure up an imagination of, but that was the least of my petty concerns for now. 

Any more ‘interruptions’ and I had a feeling he himself would subject me to far worse than I was imagining that unknown pervert I was being baited to could do.

”You’re going to follow me into where we need to go.” 

It was shocking how long he could come to maintain that chilling tone, sending the hairs on my skin turning erect as I felt the sudden frozen air in the van, desiring nothing more than to hold myself in a form of protection, his sentences peeling me back with just the threats hidden within them waiting to pounce out. 

“And then, you can ‘fucking pee’. But only on my ‘fucking’ terms.” 

I nodded, gulping with nothing to say against that, all of my arguments melted into a pool of dissolved fear before me. 

Everyone had shifted. 

“Good.” 

-

His arm was firm. 

As much as I absolutely hated having to keep my hands around those muscles of his, even I had to admit in my darkest times that someone like him didn’t work out for no reason. 

The results showed. 

“Fix your face. You look like you detest me.” 

I didn’t realise we were pointing out the obvious.

But then again, he wasn’t exactly wrong. 

Throughout making our way inside, several women had already taken to raising their eyebrows up and delivering me concerned expressions at how obviously tensed I was with the flat line of my lips, delivering threats to bend further into a frown with every step we took together into the publicity of the environment. 

There were people everywhere. 

All it took was a single subtle poke, and then a light gesture with my fingers behind my back, and sure enough at least one of the groups would alert someone that they had their suspicions raised on the both of us. 

That they thought I was in danger.

I was in danger. 

I curled my lip upwards at the sides, eyes creased as I tilted my head up to him, his features surveying once over my face before he locked my hand in tighter around his arm, releasing a breath of defeat and walking ahead with me. 

“It’s no point. You just look constipated.” 

I scoffed at the drag of his remark, adjusting my fingers consciously around the swell of his bicep, making idle eye contact with the people around us, my brain whizzing into an unnecessary detective mode. 

“So, which one do you think is our pervert?” 

In truth, I couldn’t tell you what made me bother to ask that question to the brick beside me, other than the fact that I knew I couldn’t just stand there all quietly and not say anything at all.

I was born an extrovert.

He took his sweet time in answering, eyes glazing over every face in the room, as if they had an inbuilt detector for finding the ‘pathetic coward’ he had such an internal irritation towards. 

Little Mr Vigilante, to some twisted extent.

”This isn’t a game. This man is seriously fucked up.” 

He warned against the playfulness that emerged within my voice, his tone coming out with an edge, passionate in describing the severity of the situation that fell upon us. 

Well, me quite unwillingly and unintentionally. 

“What, and kidnapping isn-” 

The yank was harsh, and it left my heels clicking on the floor in loud clashes that alerted a few of the people around us, all as I fought hard in the moment to maintain my balance against him, spun around with a force to face his distilled expression down at me. 

“I thought I told you to behave.”

He highlighted the last word out to me as if I was a stupid, rabid dog, not following orders as if dumb enough to chase after the punishment to come. 

But I wasn’t.

I was a pissed off human being. 

I didn’t deserve any of this, and we both knew it at surface level. 

“No, actually. You told me to come in here with you. I believe now is the part where you finally let me ‘fucking pee.’ 

I exaggerated my own words back to him almost mockingly, unsure of whether to be pleased or not by the way he let go of my wrist after, extracting his hand away like I was a problem to avoid, his head tilting once in a gesture towards the direction of the women’s toilets.

”Run, and I’ll find you and kill you.”

I paused once in my needed walk away to deliver my own response back to him, tilting my head back once, just enough to catch his eyes still lingering on me with that laser like glare.

“Thought you had no interest in killing me.”

I listened, everyone else’s voices fading into the background, his coming into the forefront. 

“Interests can change over time.” 

-

I sat on the toilet with an assortment of tissues placed underneath me to prevent the seat touching my ass, not surprised to find the unwelcoming presence of a bloody tampon sticking out of the bin beside me in the cubicle, lacking the courage to bother to poke it back in.

My head was in my hands, my makeup surely smudged by this point. 

I had already pissed out my liquid contents a minute or so before, choosing myself to rot away on this toilet, unsure if I could ever find the energy to drag myself out and end up right back to him where my death would lie ahead.

And yet, sitting here would only guarantee myself a quicker death by the time he’d come in and find me, breaking down the door and doing God knows what. 

I mustered up what little energy I had left deep within me, my entire body dragged down by the weight of how disappointed I became day by day, hopeless with every passing second over the idea of me making it out with someone like him. 

Was it just fantasy? 

Was I destined to die in this fate?

Did I pick my own horrible ending? 

Would he not keep his word and choose to mercilessly kill me and end my short lived life anyw-

My internal monologue ceased as it was brutally interrupted by the slamming open of the metal toilet door beside me, my entire body flinching harsh at the startling noises of commotion, only to then calm myself and freeze, holding my breath as I made attempts to steady my heart, listening enhanced as I paid attention to the hasty movements. 

A single ring, and then a phone picked up. 

“Dimitri needs to be fucking patient.” 

The woman’s voice was raspy with each word and far deeper than mine, her words delivered direct with the thickness of an obvious slavic accent. 

“He’s draining me of my fucking abilities! I mean come on… How many shots of 10-14s could a man want in a week? Every fucking… Come on… How are his joints not broken by now?”

I stilled, and then my hand clasped over my ajar mouth, petrified.

The puzzle pieces had begun to come together within the confines of my mind.

10-14s. Old man. Joints. Pervert. 

”Right. I’m coming over to him right now. I’ll grab the little bitch too and hand it to him, that’ll silence the old bastard for a while, his new asset… it’s been bothering me. It keeps on stumbling about some fuck ass… more of them. For me to not… take out any more of them. The whiny whore.” 

She delivered the last words with a personal hatred, her voice resembling that of a crooked, nasty witch by the end. 

Something kicked in me.

I heard the toilet door wrench open to signify her desperate leave, and then slam shut behind her in the same thoughtless, loud manner. 

And then, I pictured my siblings,

I pictured that girl.

I opened up the handle, and took a step forward. 

My eyes landed on the door. 

And I made my way. 

Chapter Text

Sun-Hyuk’s POV:

The audacity on her was somewhat applaudable to an extent, and I would’ve acknowledged that if it wasn’t for the way my blood was reaching to claw out from my skin, pressure rising. 

That unnecessary, grinding noise of a strut as she stormed off in those annoyingly pointed heels, arm flared out like a sorry excuse of a pelican at her sides as if she’d grab the next waiter she saw and strangle him herself, a compromise for being unable to get her hands on to me, was only some form of an idiotic challenge. 

She slipped out of sight in an instant through those crimson double doors and I could only watch stood still where I was as they oscillated back and forth, subjected to the meaningless violence of her own pathetic lashing outs. 

She was getting too confident, and too snappy. 

I should’ve just left her to sink and wail in that river, the little sly vixen she came out to be, finding the need to reply back to me as if she was all intelligent like that. 

Whatever. 

At least the bunker wouldn’t end up reeking of piss. 

“Hey… Boss?” 

My arm shot up to tap once at the device that vibrated within my ear, the sounds of Cairo’s uncertain tone reaching me in seconds through the static, the subtle noises of keys clicking distinct within the background. 

“Yeah?” 

The noises paused, and I heard a clean slide, as if the keyboard itself had shifted downwards on whatever desk he was sat at with Don. 

“You’re good to go. He’s inside one of the… private sectors. In some form of a heated phone call. He keeps flailing his hands up and then dropping them down to his side, pulling the caller away from his ear and then pacing to the other end of the room, back and forth.” 

He was watching it as we were speaking. 

That was better for me.

That meant I knew the insolent fucker would be exactly where I’d expect him to. 

And then, we could get this over and done with much quicker than anyone could come to reckon. 

“Right. I’ll collect the girl and go.” 

My eyes had already shot to the toilet with a purpose, and yet I felt a thick, deeply avoided unease stir inside of me, my hands dropping down in sheer disbelief from the device attached to my ear, eyes instead landing on the doors that were oscillating back and forth in front of me once more. 

She really was a fucking challenge. 

“Cairo.” 

There was a slight muffling of his hands pressing up once again against the mic, all before his attentive voice cleared out before me, ready as ever to hear my next words. 

“Yeah, boss?” 

The doors kept oscillating, back and forth.

And yet, not a single glimpse of brown skin slipped out from them, not a single wave from her strands, nor the outline of a tight black dress, nor those pointed fucking heels. 

“Where the fuck did the girl go?” 

-

Sairah’s POV: 

My heart was about to participate in an obviously unprepared for sprint, and if I didn’t make it to the finish line first before the rest of my body, then I was sure it would be the line to end me instead and I’d end up in a fainted heap of scared human on the floor. 

The contractions thudded repeatedly with pointless series of warnings within the chambers of my own chest, the upper torso of my dress tightening around me in its fabric with every very much needed inhale. 

If I didn’t absorb the air within these perfumed, violet walled halls, I’d end up sobering in my own immense fear enough to realise that I wasn’t fit at all to take on whatever I’d heard on that malevolent horror of a phone call. 

That I was no less a girl myself, and that whoever that other 14 year old was, I wasn’t enough to call my own shots and make the drastic, idiotic attempts to save her. 

I wasn’t Superman. 

Heck, I wasn’t even close to Clark Kent.

”Yes, yes. I will hand deliver it to you myself.” 

To speak about a human being like that, let alone a child. 

It made my fingers curl up absentmindedly into my hand, shaping a fist that wanted to speak for something, the swallowing in my throat like a coaxing of my body towards my mind, ready to interject and defend whoever it was she was insisting on selling off. 

It was difficult enough to come to terms with the fact that this was actually happening before me.

But it was worse to grasp that it was a woman before me doing all of this. 

Arranging another woman’s nightmare. 

My heels rhythmically click-clacked behind her into the background aa the echoed down the hall and yet I was certain she was so engrossed in the unfathomable details of her casual phone call that she wouldn’t even come to realise. 

Or maybe she did sense it, but she saw me as too insignificant to rat her out or put a stop to what she was doing. 

Either way, she was wrong. 

I was going to go get that girl. 

I didn’t care. 

Luckily, Mr Kidnapper also registered me as being entirely insignificant in his mind because I wasn’t even given the mics and transmitters everyone else had, left alone all to myself as I walked with insanity into a trap of impending doom. 

I paused. 

My head shot to the abstract form of a painting on the side, my hands crossed over my upper torso, all as she tilted her own at me, delivering a single criticising glance up and down the length of my body, before confirming to herself I wasn’t a threat. 

The golden handle she stood beside was grasped in an instant, twisted anti-clockwise, the looming door in front of both of us clicking at it’s sides, curiosity itching away at the back of my neck to deliver a turn and see what was lurking on the inside. 

I snuck a look, my inquisitiveness getting the better of me, a habit that I was needing to die hard. 

She was still stood there like a statue with no sound, my body threatening to jolt at the display as I locked on to those slits in her eyes, watching me. 

But now, there was a sly, ominous grin that crept it’s way up on her face. 

“Are you one of the girls he ordered?” 

The way she slithered the words to me spoke of a conversation she was used to. 

She’d been in this world a hundred times.

She was just assessing to see if the case was the same for me.

I swallowed down the lack of words that built up in my throat and replaced them at a lightning speed that was fuelled by worry for my life, my brain whirring as I got on to cooking up an excuse, or any form of believable justification.

”No. My service is for someone else.”

My throat cracked at one point, and she delivered a subtle reaction towards it, tilting her head even further. 

Then, she nodded. 

“I’d like to add you to my collection of girls. You have that look on you. The innocence, the thinness, that brown skin. They like the ethnic kind of look nowadays, it sells unbelievably well on the market.” 

A part of me wanted to throw up in her face at how she spoke about me. 

Her descriptions of me like that of an object came out in full confidence and undeserved authority too, and I wondered how many times another helpless woman had been assessed in the same damaging way, cowering before her with nothing to do but sit there and listen, fearing for their own futures. 

“Is that so?” 

Her expression strengthened. 

It was turning into that of seeing something out of routine, and I was giving up my momentarily created identity by the second, needing a quick save to convince her.

Fuck, what should I have said? 

Should I have not asked at all? 

“You’re a real curious one. After the amount of beating and breaking you’d think that a doll like you would learn to not really speak to her superiors at all. Where’s your resentment for us?”

This was all nothing but overloads of new information to me. 

It was like someone had plunged me deep into those documentaries on sex trafficking rings, a cursed experience that I was trying with desperation to claw myself out from.

I slid open my mouth with its slight shakiness, growing ready to respond with each thought I was conjuring, when all of a sudden the both of us were interrupted in our tensions. 

A slither of a shadow had showed up in the slit of the door, and then I watched as she fully emerged, eyes all wide and passing between the both of us.

She was 14.

And she was thinner than even me, her ribcage defined as ever.

I could see the pointedness of her elbows, and the way her under eyes caved in. 

A mockery of what looked to be mimicking makeup was painted thick on to her face, her lips a daunting bright pink and her eyes surrounded in black as if to give off a smoked effect. 

She licked her lips once with anxiety as my eyes fell down to them, and I watched it smudge like cream. 

“See this… this is a girl we’ve recently trained. Just like you. But she’s silent. The only time she’s vocal is when the man wants her to be.” 

My eyes were threatening to sting as I was forced to observe her own produce a reflective glossiness, begging for my help inside of the safety of her own torn mind, unable to utter a single word out loud in the presence of the witch before the both of us.

“S-She’s only 14.” 

I croaked out, the words coming through in a poor attempt of a  whisper that seemed to in turn only acknowledge the breaking down everything I knew.

Our women weren’t protected. 

It was all a facade. 

The enemy was far closer than anyone could come to think. 

And now, I was forced to face the result of that, cowering before me. 

“Were you not much younger when you joined? 8? 9? You look like they carved you out young to perfection… I’m sure you were younger.” 

My eyes rose upwards, landing on the one who owned the crooked finger that was latched on to the poor girl’s shoulders as she introduced her to me, not a single glimpse of regret or remorse anywhere within those pupils. 

Not even a crease in her eyes. 

“You stand here and hold her for me. I doubt your guy will be finished any time soon. I’m pretty sure he’s got a bitch choking on his cock right now. Meanwhile, I’ll fetch the man for her.” 

She emphasised it on purpose to drive the fear out of her and into the open space that was between us all, her small quivers now becoming more audible by the second as if like a ribbon undoing on those ‘years of training’, body shaking as she stood there as a doe contained in a bear trap, knowing of her end to come. 

How many times had she gone through this before? 

The woman’s claw like hands released her shoulder and I watched as she giggled in response, the girl still tensed up in pure silence as if her wicked grip had never subsided, too traumatised to react with calmness. 

Then, she slipped into the room. 

I took the opportunity, and I reached down and clutched her wrist. 

“Come on. Let’s go. You have a chance…” 

I already began to rush myself down with a timer appearing over my head, her steps carrying resistance at first behind me, all before picking up the pace as she came to understand my motives for pulling her away. 

I was not the enemy. 

I was going to help her.

“W-why?” 

I responded almost half mindlessly, turning insane by the minute as I came to realise that I abducted an underage victim from prostitution, pissing off people who’s powers I couldn’t even come to estimate 

“Because you don’t deserve this…” 

I almost tripped like a fool on the set of stairs in front of us, scurrying her across the best I could, shielded as she made her way down them, approaching her escape closer and closer. 

“Almost there… You’re doing well.” 

I took the chance to praise her, my eyes slipping down to her bruised up ankle as she fought with hope relentlessly, continuing on downwards without a single break in the rhythm. 

Then, I felt my heart seize. 

A hand had yanked me back from my actions, forcing me up against the railing till I felt the bang of my spine from meeting the metal rods to the side of me, her broke footsteps stilling in front of me as she began to whimper, shaking her head. 

I opened up my eyes, a tear escaping from them, speaking of my own acceptance of defeat. 

Then, my vision cleared.

”What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

He held the same expression as the day I first ever came to know of him, that look as if I was only going to be a bother if I didn’t die right then and there by the river, keeping his little secret to myself forever. 

Now, I didn’t care. 

He was my best shot. 

“I-I…I had to get her…” I removed my hand without hesitation from his wrist that was holding me up against the side and instead pointed a sharp finger towards the cowering girl that stood at the side of both of us, his glaring eyes falling off of me to get rid of the laser burn from them temporarily, instead landing on her as she stood there, sobbing with her tears getting rid of the pigments on her cheeks. 

“What?” 

The word came out in a single pissed snap, formulated back towards me, his eyes as narrow as ever as his head leaned inward. 

I caught the scent of mint in his mouth. 

“T-the guy that… that you were talking about… He was going to… He wanted to…” 

I just kept pointing at her, unable to further proceed with my sentence, a wail of some form fighting to release from her throat, coming out inside as a high pitched whine, breaking down before me.

”They’re coming…” 

Hands shaking profusely, I clutched at his tensed wrist, meeting his devil like eyes head on, both of us locked into a stare that lasted for seconds. 

I couldn’t read anything in it but the rage he was showing me, although sure enough, I saw leeway towards the end. 

He released me, and I felt my body shake, weakened without him holding me up. 

It was a humbling thought, and all I could do was stand there and watch him as if he was some form of a saviour for the both of us.

”Go. Cairo’s at the bottom. Take her, and leave.” 

Chapter Text

Sun-Hyuk’s POV: 

( song: boss bitch - doja cat ) 

If I had sent her a single minute later, she’d end up seeing the beauty of a bloodbath of pathetics that I could leave behind.

And yet, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted her to. 

On the one hand, it would end up teaching her a hell of a lesson about letting herself go off her leash like that without permission from me, but on the other… 

She’d only get in the way of my work, panicking around like that. 

And I couldn’t have that sort of a mess with a canvas to paint like this. 

I let out a scoff. 

The first sorry excuse of a man came bursting out of the before closed door into the side of the stairs, body hurled out towards me like a rabid dog infected with rabies, a foolish mockery of an attempt to intimidate as he rushed his steps down to me with a lengthened form of a battle cry, fist raised up for my face. 

I could’ve picked to spare him, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood after that entire commotion. 

I was still pissed, and I wanted to vent. 

His arm was latched on to with precision as it projected itself towards me, one hand positioned in a grip at his elbow with the other wrapped firm around his wrist, using opposite forces at either end to raise his hands upwards past it’s capability, the length delivering a harsh crack till I could see his bone peek out at me from his lower arm, his entire mortified figure coming to stumble back in a state of horrified shock. 

Blood splattered down on to the floor and I had to take a single step backward, avoiding the sprinkler-like spurts that came out of him. 

I liked this suit. 

And I was hoping to keep it as clean as possible. 

The second was another charging excuse of an idiot, his eyes darting down once to his ‘co-worker’ wailing out with his bone out on display, and yet still he decided to position himself in the role of a dumbass.

I gave him the benefit of the doubt to make his own choice and to my dismay he picked, rushing down the stairs with a knife backed out of his belt, slicing through the air in attempts to get me. 

To my absolute luck, he had about as much accuracy as that of a headless chicken. 

At one point, I had to hold back a deep sense of amusement as I watched it slash across into the wall laid out beside me, cutting into a wood plank there and wedging itself stuck, a look of terror slithering on to his sober face as he realised he was inevitably fucked. 

It was as bright as day to me that he needed help. 

I’d be kind for once. 

I clutched my hand around the black handle and pulled back with ease, the sound of a sword being unsheathed like a harmony coursing within my ears, only to then be brutally halted as it burrowed deep into the welcoming warmth of his neck, single croaks slipping out as he joined his soon-to-be corpse on the floor, landing beside and squirming around in the same manner like a pack of sardines. 

The metallic scent was working it’s way into overpowering the strong fragrance of cheap perfume that slid in from everywhere, a putrid attempt to cover up the reality of the dirt and grime that went on inside of those filthy rooms. 

“You! You… fucking… I’ll get you killed. You and those fucking sluts!” 

Her accent was almost indecipherably thick and distinctly Russian if I’d ever heard it, between every word being the mention of ‘fucking’ and ‘bitch’, a not so polite plea to get me to stop ending her little hoards of minions. 

But the more that came at me without their brains intact to thick for once, the greater a drive I had to stop them all from delivering annother breath to complete natural selection myself. 

One from behind me. 

I slipped the gun he was barely holding with shaking, puny fingers out from his clutch and twisted it around, 3 holes shot deep into his lurching stomach, the splatters painting an array of fireworks on the wall, finishing off in another man’s regrettably open, whining mouth. 

That’s a kink if I’d ever known one.

“Give it up, Russian bitch.”

I thought it best to acknowledge in her own language, her face contorting into that of being all wide eyed and screwed. 

Of course.

“You’re only eliminating a meaningless amount of men by calling for them to save you. Aren’t you too fucking old to be a damsel in distress?” 

She wagged wrinkled fingers at me with a not so kindly taken offence, the sharpened end of her nails some portrayal of a threat, her footsteps speaking otherwise as they receded with every one that I took to get near, avoiding the heaps of crimson liquid on the floor. 

But alas, I was a little messy myself at times.

It was only human. 

A man from the side.

He slid past her and came at me with another knife. 

I narrowly dodged and let it miss my abdomen for the sake of an adrenaline boost, unhanding him before he could realise and then sliding it up into his skull through his open lower jaw, satisfied as I heard each element it passed through. 

“Come on… you old, ugly looking hag. I’m here to send you to hell. And then… I’ll send that fat cunt stood behind you.” 

Her eyes flitted back to the figure who sure enough was watching the entire time, a step back taken as I acknowledged his existence, jaw dropped. 

And you made that video?

Oh come on. 

You’re just a pussy.