Jongdae felt himself slowly coming to, and the pain in his head was becoming more apparent. He slowly opened his eyes, being initially blinded by the yellowish light that shone right above him. His vision was blurred at first, but it slowly got better, and he started to be able to make out between the ceiling and the single solitary light placed on it, which was actually pretty dim once he got used to it.

His head was pounding, and he could feel a specific spot where the feeling seemed to be stronger. It was probably the spot where he got hit, he figured. He couldn’t quite remember what happened, or where he was, so he felt very confused and tense.

As he was trying to understand what had happened and where he was, there was one thing that he could notice right away; he couldn’t move his body.

He was spread out. His arms and legs were restricted by something very hard – and slightly painful as he tried to tug his limbs out – and his waist was also tied down, but by something softer, that allowed him to have some more movement, but nothing that would help him free himself.

His head was free though, and he turned it to his right, feeling his cheek touch the cold surface he was currently laying on. He didn’t expect it to be so chill, since the material was quite naturally warm through the rest of his body, but that information, and the bit of vision he had of it while his head was turned, he could easily conclude that it was one of those metal table he usually saw down at the morgue.

But that wasn’t just a simple examination table; it was modified. It had metal add-ons fused to it, that were like giant thick – and probably heavy – cuffs, that were strapping his arms down. He quickly guessed – despite not being able to see yet – that it was the same on his legs. He could see his right arm clearly while his head was turned, and he saw that there were three of those cuffs, holding him at the wrist, elbow, and bicep. He still had free movement of both hands, but it was pretty useless when he didn’t have the rest of his arm.

He straightened his head again, and then lifted it until his chin touched his chest, so he could see the rest of his body. Around his pelvis and lower stomach there was some type of fabric – which was very stiff, but better than the metal – that was tying him together with the table. He had better mobility of his torso, but it wasn’t much. Down at him legs there were heavy metal cuffs again, but it was harder for him to get a good look. He could feel that they were definitely larger though, as they were trapping his thighs, and there seemed to be normal sized ones on his ankles.

He really wasn’t going anywhere; whoever put him there made sure he couldn’t. And he already had an idea of who that could be, despite his memory not being completely back yet.

He sighed and dropped his head back down, hitting it back on the table by accident, and immediately regretting the movement, since it hurt and only made the pounding sensation worse. He could feel his blood rushing through his ears, his pulse pressing through the veins on his temples.

He tried to ignore the terrible feelings, and started looking around, trying to confirm what he already knew. Looking to all possible sides, he could tell that he was in a very tiny room; he could see the insulation of the wall, and since there were no windows, he felt pretty sure that it was a basement.

At the farther end to his left, he could see the wooden table, most likely mahogany – since it was just a similar color as the one he had seen in the splinter that Kyungsoo showed them – but it was a bit difficult to make out the proper coloration of the wood due to the fact that it was heavily stained with blood. It was poorly cleaned, and the rusty red of the dry blood was evident, especially in the crevices of the wood.  On top of the table – in a convenient position for Jongdae to see it, because had the table been a little higher, or his place a little lower, he wouldn’t be able to see anything from his trapped lying position – was the thing that most confirmed his initial fear; the chainsaw. He recognized it from the photo he was given, and like the coroner had said, it was a very old one, in a rusty rundown state.

Out of all the ways he had pictured them finding the criminal’s lair, that was definitely not one of them. He was in big trouble.

He was trying to think, but he was having a hard time getting his head to work properly – probably because he had a concussion. He was getting desperate, he needed to find a way to get out of there, or he’d get chopped up like his victims. He didn’t even want to imagine how traumatizing it would be for Minseok to find his severed head in a trash can.

‘Minseok!’

His mind suddenly sparked a flame. He had told his partner where he would be – like any smart detective should, when dealing with crazy criminals all the time – and if enough time had passed, Minseok would start looking for him. But how could he tell how much time had passed? He was unconscious; he didn’t have a clock, and again, no windows to look at the sky. Maybe time didn’t pass at all, maybe it was only ten minutes after he left the precinct; he couldn’t be sure. Maybe by the time Minseok started worrying about him, it would be too late, he would already be dead.

That was morbid thinking, which was fairly natural for someone in such a helpless situation.

And to make things worse, the door – located by the wall that faced his feet; small, wooden, creaky – opened. And to no surprise to the detective, in walked Jo Inpyo. Jongdae felt his heart racing, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He felt himself becoming more alert, and he strongly stared at the incoming man.

“Oh, you’re awake! Good, just in time for the show.”

Inpyo said, with a large and wicked smile rested on his face. He carried in a tray which was covered by a grey cloth, and he placed it right beside the large cuff on Jongdae’s right thigh.

The detective was unable to respond at first, feeling a rush of fear go by his system after simply hearing the man’s voice. But he had to do something, and he knew what. He had to stall for time, to give Minseok the chance to come and save him.

“Why are you doing this?”

He asked, hoping that the man would start to explain the entire ritual – which Jongdae already knew about – and his motives for doing it. Jongdae was just going according the basic super hero/villain rules, which clearly stated that the bad guy – upon being asked that question – should ensue in a long heartfelt