TW: FEAR, WEAPONS

The sound of a loud buzzer went off. Once, twice, and a couple more times. Groggily, as if he had been sedated, he lifted his heavy head. The buzzer kept piercing his ears, the prominent sound growing louder by the second. After a few blinks, he tiredly attempted to make sense of his surroundings.

It was dark. A little too dark.

Squinting his gaze, his eyes slowly adjusted. The ferocious sound of the buzzer made it unbearable for him to form any thoughts, so he instinctively stood only to get shoved back onto the wooden chair.

“What the hell,” he breathed when his gaze lowered.

Jolting fiercely at his wrists, he sensed the leather of what felt like a belt keeping him prisoner on the seat. Beat after beat, continuously increasing its frequency, his heart pounded harder as he attempted to break free from the confinements. Grunting, he began to wiggle his feet harshly as they, too, were bound but to the legs of the chair.

“What is this?” he shouted as he kept yanking at his wrists.

For a man who exercised regularly, he figured that he would be able to break free but alas – after many poor attempts – his strength gave out. Leaning into the chair, he stared out in total darkness.

“Hello,” he hollered, “Is anyone there?”

Squinting his eyes once more, he tried to trail the room to make out the layout but there was nothing; pitch black and still with the damn buzzer going off. Suddenly, a flickering lamp above him lit up and his gaze immediately flung up. With a small exhale evading his plump lips, he cautiously began to take in the surroundings.  

It was abandoned, a warehouse.

He could make out some graffiti drawings plastered on the grayish toned brick walls. Numbers and words. Some in English, a language he could recognize, as well as his native tongue. There were no windows or doors. Just him, the small table in front, as well as a small old school television. He was unsuccessful, however, in getting a glimpse of what was behind him.

“Guys, come on,” he shouted as rage replaced his initial instinct of panic, “This isn’t funny anymore,” sweat drops slowly emerging as he sensed the room was incredibly hot.

The flicking lamp above came to a halt and he stiffened. A slight fear rushed over him as it had gotten dark again, but he quickly brushed it aside and continuously shouted after his bandmates.

He was sure they were pulling a practical joke on him but enough was enough. The bickering and teasing had gone on for far too long and he was beginning to feel infuriated by his bandmates’ – especially the youngest – constant disrespectful behavior. Yelling after them, he ferociously kept yanking at the confinements when suddenly, the exhaustingly loud buzzer finally ceased. Simultaneously, the lights above the ceiling turned on, one at a time. These were bigger, brighter, and momentarily made him whimper at the sharpness as his eyes adjusted. Just then did he notice a woman sitting opposite him.     

“Hey,” he said softly, “Wake up.”

Her head was lowered. Skin complexion pale, dark,long hair hanging loosely, covering her face. He frowned as he observed the seemingly knocked out woman. His gaze then fell onto her white t-shirt. Recognizing the logo as a merchandise from his 2019 ‘Speak Yourself’-tour, he bewilderingly gazed intensely at the darkened red stains that covered her chest.

“Hey,” he repeated as he jumped in the seat, pushing the chair closer to the table but was suddenly stopped by two jolts on each side of the chair, making it impossible for him to move it further or shift it to the sides.

His heart raced once again as the unresponsive woman alerted him that this was far from a practical joke. Then a loud zap jolted the woman, and she began to scream fiercely. Wide eyed and taken aback, he stared at her frozen in position as she exclaimed before breaking into tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he voiced in order to calm the woman.

“What is this?” she began to pull at the same confinements that kept him bound.

“I don’t know, I just woke up here—”                

“You sick fuck!” she exclaimed. “What the hell is this? Why are you keeping—” she paused when her eyes fell onto his. “W-What are doing here?” she stuttered, mascara running down her cheeks, “W-what is going on?”

A sudden mechanical sound made him and the distraught woman direct their eyes at the center of the table. Then a dark object appeared, and he immediately caught his breath upon recognizing it.

It was a gun.

Slowly, it began to move. Circling around between them a few times when it halted in front of him. His eyes locked in on the barrel when the sound of the gun cocking rushed all blood out of him. Panicked, he began to breathe shallower as the gun slowly began to slide backwards.

“What the fuc—” he stared at the gun’s barrel.

“What is this?”                

His eyes were glued to the gun aiming directly at him, “What,” he breathed as he kept yanking at the confinements.

The sear then engaged the hammer and began to place bullets inside. The gun loaded itself. Frozen, they both stared terrifyingly at the gun as it began to move again. Once halting in front of the woman, sending her to a panic frenzy and then back onto him.

This time loaded and cocked.

Gulping, he kept his gaze firmly on the barrel. Fist tightened as dread overcame him, he watched the hammer get pulled back. Unable to move or help himself, he was forced to sit and take a bullet to his chest. The woman screamed, urging whoever was doing this to stop, going as far as stating his credentials and how important he was to many around the world. Begging desperately as he pulled at the unforgiving confinements, he exclaimed at whoever not to take his life. A small click sound then emerged from the gun and defeatedly, he lowered his head as a sigh of relief escaped him. Whimpering, he eyed the gun and then the woman, who started to shed tears again.

“Kim Seokjin,” a muffled voice said and the television behind the woman turned on, “I would like to play a little game, I call it the ‘ honesty ’ game.”

His eyes widened at the sight of his own creation, RJ, being used as a prompt. The woman hastily glanced around to get a glimpse of where the sound was coming from but much like himself, she was unable to gaze backwards.    

“The gun you see in front of you is, in fact, a real gun. As of right now, there are no bullets in it. Once spun and a target is found, the gun will load a single bullet, and depending on your answers, Mr. Kim, the gun will go off,” the eerie distorted voice of RJ explained, “Think Russian Roulette.”

The gun kept circling, demonstrating what the puppet was revealing. The woman kept cursing at the voice causing his heart to beat faster as he realized that this sick game was intended for him. The dirty alpaca with his signature scarf looked meaner and rougher than he’d experienced. Usually he took care of RJ as did ARMY’s but the one operating the one appearing on the television, did not seem to care about the merchandise. Someone went out of their way to get him here. With no clue as to why, he gripped the arms of the chair, feeling utterly helpless.

“I urge you to think of the answer before submitting it, Kim Seokjin. For every insincere one, you’ll activate the gun and for every unanswered question she will be zapped with a high voltage,” his gaze immediately fell onto the sobbing woman, “The human body is extraordinary in its ability to withstand such damaging shocks but I doubt her tiny frame can handle 600 volts,” the RJ puppet moved slightly closer to the frame, “Take a good look at the person sitting opposite you, Kim Seokjin,” her eyes met his, although teary, he knew that she could recognize him, “This is a Japanese army who runs your fan-site. She has devoted her whole life to you; everywhere you go, she will be. She claims she loves you and you claim you love ARMY, Seokjin.”

“What is this,” the woman yelled out, still unable to find the location of the distorted voice, “Why are you doing this?”

“Seokjin, repeatedly, you’ve expressed a need to be dishonest to your fans, hiding behind excuses for not wishing them to worry but are you willing to bare yourself to the most devoted Jin stan in ARMY? The choice is yours.”

The screen went staticy, flickering a few times before it completely shut off. Then the gun began to circle. The woman sobbed fiercely when it pointed at her.

“Why is this happening?” she exclaimed chokingly.

“Give me the questions,” Seokjin hastily shouted as he ferociously kept shifting in his seat, “What are damn the questions?”

“What are you talking about? How the hell am I supposed to know—” he jumped back in his seat when the woman was interrupted by a dose of electricity.

Crying in agony, she lowered her head as drool slowly ran out of her mouth. She was conscious and he could only assume that the voltage wasn’t as high as RJ claimed it was.

“I don’t want to be here,” she incoherently breathed.

“I think that was a warning,” he frantically glanced around, “Is there anything behind me? I can’t see,” his eyes fell back on the pale woman, “Hey, no, please,” he attempted to slide the chair closer to the table, “Stay with me,” he urged, “Stay awake.”

She was struggling to keep her head up, eyelids open and it seemed as if foam was emanating her mouth. Whimpering, he stared intensely at the woman who was described as his number one fan. This was not how he expected to meet ARMYs. He never wanted this.

“Are you really ARMY?”

“Yes,” she voiced so low that he leaned closer, her voice small as if all energy was drained from her, “I love Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

“You need to stay focused if we want to get out of here. Please, stay with me; lift your head,” the gun began to circle. “Look, it’s starting again,” he tightened his fists, “Please,” he yelled when the gun halted in front of him, “Look around and find the questions.”

Tiredly, she slowly did as her favorite idol requested. Heavy eyelids scanning the surroundings as the sound of the hammer of the gun getting pulled back snapped her back into reality.

“I d-don’t,” she paused as she kept glancing at the walls in search of the questions. “There’s nothing, I can’t see anything.”

“Please, hurry,” his eyes remained glued on the barrel of the gun, unable to tell if the next shot would be a loaded one.

Then far behind him, the woman discovered a television neatly placed on the wall in a top corner and she moved closer to make sense of the bouncing letters. The flickering screen made the words jump and she tried desperately to understand the question.

“I see it.”

“What? Hurry, ask me, please.”

Squinting her gaze, she asked, “Kim Seokjin, do you enjoy lying to ARMYs?”

He halted at the question, never taking his terrified eyes from the gun, “N-no,” he paused momentarily, assuring he wasn’t being insincere with his response, “No, I do not enjoy it.”

The gun began to move again, circling between them for a long moment until it randomly stopped in front of the woman. Sobbing, she grew hysterical, shifting violently in attempts to distance herself from the gun’s line of shot.

“You need to calm down and ask me the question,” he spat, “Tell me, it’s cocking itself.”

Through teary eyes, she hulked as she read, “Kim Seokjin, are you embarrassed to tell ARMYs how you feel?”

“No, of course not,” he exclaimed, “I’m not embarrassed.”

The hammer pulled back and the gun ticked, once, twice before the trigger was pulled. Click. It wasn’t loaded. Angrily, she cursed at him for answering the question with such disregard of her safety and his blatant carelessness.

The gun started again, spinning around itself a few times as the two kept shouting at each other, not paying attention to the threatening object that decided their fates. The numbly and utterly terrifying sound of the gun loading a bullet made them cease their argument as they both gazed at whom it was pointing at.

“The question is,” she eyed the gun and then him, “When you are Jin of BTS, are you playing a role?”

Clenching his jaw, he eyed her as he simply nodded, “Everyday. ARMYs have no idea who the real BTS is. They have an idea but they don’t know.”

The gun left her and began to spin again. This time landing on him. A new question appeared and the woman frantically began to shake her head.

“I don’t care, I can’t believe this question,” she said before hollering after whoever was doing this to them, “I refuse to ask it. This is private,” tears fell down her cheeks, “I don’t want to know this.”

“Hurry up, just ask.”

“Do you feel inferior compared to your other bandmates?”

He froze at the question. Taken completely aback, it pierced his heart as this thought was something he had a hard time shaking off during his trainee and early debut years. The absolute scrutiny and embarrassment he went through as the sole member who didn’t have any experience forever marked his pride. Unlike his bandmates, his passion wasn’t music, but it had evolved as he did. Today, he couldn’t comprehend a life outside of BTS and music.

Frowning, he contemplated how he was going to answer.

It seemed as if a simple YES or NO answer was all that the monster who had kidnapped them needed. But this required a far more complicated answer, one he did not have time to process let alone formulate an answer to its complexity. Defeatedly, he simply sighed and answered yes. The loud buzzer went off once more and as it did, the gun descended away from the two of them, sliding through an opening in the middle of the table.

“What’s happening?” the woman yelled, but the loud buzzer drowned out her voice.

The screen behind her lit up once more with a simple message staring at him; ‘Thanks for playing’. The sound of the buzzer came to a halt and as it did, a door opened to their left before the confinements that held them in place loosened.