The Hostages

Mark spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground and glared at the man in black. “You’re an animal,” he snarled, lurching to his feet. “We’re tired of playing your games.” The guard hit him again and Chanyeol caught him deftly. Mark’s vision blurred, though whether it was vertigo or tears he wasn’t sure.

“This has never been a game!” the man barked. “And it’s not about you either.”

“We don’t care anymore!” Amber yelled. “Just let us go!”

Mark regained his feet in time to see the man slap Amber across the face. “You think you’re meant to get out of this?” the man whispered. He looked up at the other idols. “Do you all really think you were going to survive this?”

“The only one dying here is you,” Taemin growled. “We’re not going anywhere without a fight.”
He charged at the man and another guard cracked him over the head with a bat. He collapsed immediately and Wendy screamed as blood started trickling from his head. “Taemin!” she cried. “You monster! You can’t do this!”

“Obviously I can,” the man replied, and with a snap of his fingers the guards took hold of the idols and dragged them back to the yawning hellhole.


******


Suho slunk down in his chair, trying to keep anyone who passed by the windows from seeing him. Should’ve brought a hat, he thought wishfully, pulling his jacket tighter.

The door opened and the senior detective came in. “I just interviewed your friend,” he said, sitting across from Suho, “but he said I had to talk to you.”

Suho sat up a little and leaned over the table. “May I speak candidly?” he asked respectfully.

The detective inclined his head. “Please do.”

“We - that is, myself and the other artists - we know that the CEO hasn’t been meeting with you.”

The detective frowned. “Since you mention it, it does put a weight on our investigation,” he said carefully. “And?”

“We’ve come across some information that we think could help you find our friends.”

The detective nodded. “I’m listening.”

Suho shifted in his seat. “We… came across a file that the CEO left out. It was blacked out, but one of the artists was able to identify him as Mr. Moa.”

“Moa? As in the bird? That’s his name?”

“Well, no, it’s a nickname. But he used to be an Outside Director for the company.” Suho pulled his phone out and found the picture of the file. “We think he’s the one who took our friends,” he said, showing the picture to the detective.

“What’s your evidence?” the detective asked. “Has the kidnapper identified himself in any way?”

Suho nodded. “Sort of. When he sent the picture of our friends’ belongings, he included a weird message.”

“ 'What do you call a bird without wings?’” the detective said, then understanding dawned and he perked up a little. “Go on.”

Suho hesitated. “Well, the rest is just conjecture, but we know that this Mr. Moa was fired from the company several years ago, before any of us were signed with SM. Maybe he’s looking for some sort of revenge.” He shook his head apologetically. “I know it’s not much-”

“It’s more than we had,” the detective interrupted. “It’s a suspect, one that actually lines up with some of the evidence.” He tilted his head contemplatively as he looked at Suho. “Does your CEO know you’re here?” he asked.

“No. He never would’ve allowed us to leave the building.”

“But you came anyway.”

Suho looked him in the eye. “Someone has to help them,” he said quietly, “and with respect, the CEO doesn’t seem to be trying.”

“You’ve risked your career by coming here tonight,” the detective observed.

“Respectfully sir, I’d choose my friends over my career any day.”

The detective nodded. “An admirable perspective.” He got up suddenly and Suho followed suit. “Stay here for now. I need to confer with my team, and we may have more questions.”

Suho nodded. “Yes sir.”

The detective came around the table and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve done well,” he murmured. He left the room and Suho released a pent-up breath. Let’s hope it’s enough, he thought.


******


Chanyeol stripped his jacket off and wrapped it around Taemin's bleeding head. “Come on Taemin,” he muttered. D.O knelt beside them. “Taeyeon?” he whispered. Chanyeol shrugged. “I wish I knew,” he breathed, keeping pressure on Taemin's wound. “Guys, I’m fine,” Taemin insisted, sitting up slowly. “It’s not that bad.”

“What are we going to do?” Jeno asked. “You heard him, he said he was going to kill us!”

“That's not going to happen,” Amber said, though the confidence in her voice rang hollow. “Don't give in to fear, Jeno.”

“What do we do, D.O?” Wendy asked. Chanyeol glanced up at his friend, watching his wheels turn desperately. “All we can do is play for time,” he said finally. “There's hope while Taeyeon is out there. Maybe-”

“Maybe what, she'll happen upon a town and bring the cavalry in the nick of time?” Mark interjected. “We don't even know where we are, much less if there's any towns nearby. She could wander the mountains for weeks before she sees another person.”

“What do you want from me, Mark?” D.O yelled, standing up quickly. “I don't see you trying to help. There's enough to deal with without you taking away any shred of hope we have!”

“D.O!” Chanyeol said, putting a hand on his leg. Mark went to reply when the guard opened the door and the man in black came in. “Dear me, I seem to have interrupted an argument,” he said, his old calmness restored. “Something I can help with, gentlemen?”

No one replied, all of them too shaken by his sudden appearance. The man sighed. “Forgive my earlier outburst, it was… unwarranted.” He motioned to his guards and they entered the cell, dragging a large chain behind them. Chanyeol pushed back a shudder of terror as it slid over the stone floor, clinking ominously.

“What happened earlier tonight was not unexpected, but still an offense,” the man continued. “A punishment is in order.”

The guards weaved the chain through two metal loops on the wall, so rusted and gritty that they were invisible against the stone before. Chanyeol put the pieces together and stood up slowly. This used to be a torture chamber, he realized.

“I realize that sometimes, when you're loyal to someone, it can result in foolishness like your little escapade. So here's my offer: give up who proposed the idea, and I'll only punish them. If you try to protect them, I'll punish everyone.”

“It was me,” Chanyeol said immediately. “I was the bait, it was my idea.”

“Chanyeol!” D.O hissed. “It was me.”

“I came up with the plan,” Mark cut in. “Punish me.”

The man chuckled. “So many masterminds present. How convenient.” He looked at them, his faceless hood lingering on each one. “You don't even know what the punishment is, and yet you're all willing to endure it. Maybe this will change your mind.” He held out his hand and the guard handed him a cat o’ nine tails, the braided leather catching the moonlight as he ran his hand over it. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he crooned. “It’s an antique from the old days, when ships' captains would whip offending officers during sea voyages.” He cracked it suddenly and all of them jumped violently. “Don’t worry, it’s been well-preserved.”

Chanyeol didn’t dare to look at D.O. Don’t do it, he pleaded silently. Don’t say it.

“I was the leader,” D.O said in a clear voice. “Give me the punishment.”

Chanyeol grabbed his arm. “You can’t-”

D.O shook him off, keeping his eyes on the man in black. “Give me the punishment,” he repeated. The man stared at him for several seconds, then nodded. “Restrain the others,” he ordered, pulling his gloves off. Guards streamed into the cell, handcuffs and chains in hand. They cuffed the other idols and chained them together, forcing them to sit on the floor while D.O pulled his shirt off. “Please don’t do this,” Wendy begged.

“It’s okay, Wendy,” D.O said calmly, allowing the guards to chain his arms above his head.

“Wait,” the man in black called. D.O turned back around and the man pulled his hood down. “Such cooperation deserves the consideration of seeing my face,” he said, pulling his mask off. Chanyeol strained to see, but he was facing away from them and all he could see was shoulder-length gray hair. D.O looked at him for a moment, then turned away disinterestedly.

The man jerked his hood back up as the guards finished securing D.O to the wall. “Why don’t we say three lashes for each of your friends here, and four for the one who got away?”

“That’s twenty-two lashes!” Chanyeol exclaimed. “You can’t-” a guard struck him and his eyes watered. “You’ll kill him,” he whispered.

“Yes,” the man agreed, “but not with this.” He turned back to D.O. “Do you accept the punishment?”

“Yes,” D.O agreed. The man struck him suddenly and he jerked, but didn’t cry out. After six strikes he started to bleed, the blood running down his naked back like black paint in the moonlight. The man didn’t pause, giving lash after lash with brutal precision. Finally around number fifteen D.O started screaming, pulling against the chain as the blows continued to rain down and his blood spattered the walls.

“Stop, please!” Chanyeol sobbed, twisting against the handcuffs. “Stop!”

The man didn’t stop until the last blow fell and the room was silent, save for D.O’s shuddering, broken weeping and the sound of blood dripping from the whip. The man turned to them, his mask restored to its usual place. “Do not try again,” he said simply. He left the cell and the guards followed, leaving them chained against the wall in the dark.

No one spoke, unable to give voice to the horror they had just witnessed. D.O hung limply from the chain, the light from the window casting stark shadows on his ravaged back. Chanyeol couldn’t tell if he was still conscious, though he prayed he wasn’t. Taeyeon, wherever you are, save us, he thought desperately.

Notes