VIII. | Apollo.
Suicide Circle
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chapter eight
apollo
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The late Saturday night breeze sent chills down down the detective's spines, like some supernatural rose vine winded and winded and winded itself around their bones, sending a piercing ray of cold until they were dubbed frozen. It was strange.
Baekhyun wanted to meet them at his office an hour prior. He had great news— a possible lead. He had interviewed one of the teenagers from the previous mass suicide that they were able to prevent, and she told him of a website that recruits the suicide victims. He then made an account for the website and went undercover as a depressed teenager. Everything went to plan, and after a few days of imposting, he managed to get a date, location and time for the next recruiting event.
* * *
"It's around an hour from here by train," Baekhyun explains, shuffling through a messed up bunch of papers. "So I want you to leave as soon as this conversation commences. Firstly, our objective is the catch the leader. If we're lucky he'll be showing his face, but we're not entirely sure about this."
Chanyeol let an annoyed groan pass his lips. He was frustrated— this whole thing was going to take such a long time, time that could've been spent with his fiance Sulli. But before he could speak, Baekhyun had already begun talking again.
"And also, I want you to take Im Jinah. It might spark her memory if she sees something familiar, which could help us greatly." The flash of annoyance on Jaejoong's face was more than evident. He was still trying to keep a distance.
* * *
02:06, Location Unknown. — Somewhere east of Seoul.
So here they were, standing in the middle of an empty train at 2 am in the morning, wrapped up to the core with big woolen coats and beanies. Jinah slowly hugs Jaejoong's arm, resting her head on his shoulder. Taeyeon's head rolls onto Baekhyun's shoulder and her arm lazily rests over her waist. All the while Chanyeol's looking over at them wishing that he had his special someone to provide warmth to. "Sulli," He sighs and rests his head on the metal bar, the vibrations sending a calming rhythm through his bones.
Once they arrive at the address Baekhyun led them to, they're flabbergasted. "What's this meant to be?" Taeyeon spits, kicking at an empty trash can.
"It's an abandoned bowling alley." He says as he leads the detectives through an entrance and into a large room. The room is fairly lit by flickering white light bulbs dangling off a loose thread from the ceiling. The bowling lanes are missing— instead they've been stripped and had tall strips of polished wood acting as a stage in their place. In front of that particular 'stage' there was a small group of around 40 sharp-eyed, colorful-haired teenagers. They were all giggling, texting, some of them were even dancing— But then, to Baekhyun's delight, the lights started to cease, bringing attention to the stage, and a young, charismatic voice that brang all of the noise to a halt.
"Hello, thank you for finding the time to come, my friends." It was a young man, around 6 feet tall with an alethic build. His face was covered with a white mask, and he had two of his top buttons undone, revealing a bronze strip of his muscular chest.
"I'm here to tell you that we'll be having another mass suicide in the upcoming days. Therefore I will need you all to make your way behind the stage and into the stripping room. That will be where we strip the piece of skin from your body." The man explained. Despite his words the teenagers all had eager looks on their faces. Like they were proud, excited— Kim Taeyeon was utterly confused.
Meanwhile, Byun Baekhyun was silently standing behind Jaejoong's broad back. For once his height had became an advantage as he successfully managed to type a quick message to the police station, sending in a bunch of reinforcements. 'They'll be there in 15 minutes. We're sending them from the nearest police station, stay put.' Was his reply. And he sighed. He was hoping that they would get there quickly.
"Please form a single file line," The masked man asked. "And please, try not to scream."
Baekhyun led the way, as usual, leading the group to the end of the single-filed line. In around half an hour the line was slowly coming to a cease, and they were led into a chilly back-room. The room itself acted as a deep freezer, it was a mere 5 degrees inside that room. When they looked around they saw 5 men sitting in dark chairs with matching bags over their heads, they were dressed in long, woolen cloaks that flowed all the way down to her ankles. To Taeyeon, they reminded her of the stereotypical representation of death. In front of each of the men was a long metal table with various utensils and equipment placed here and there. The teenagers that were getting a piece of their skin ripped off all had gags in their mouths to prevent any screaming, but they weren't resisting at all.
In a matter of moments, it was Baekhyun's turn. He was meant to head over to the man on the far left, but before he had time to make his way over, the man that spoke on stage earlier placed his hand on the build of Baekhyun's shoulder. "I need to have a word with you, Chief." He says in a soft whisper, but just loud enough for Taeyeon to hear, and in a matter of moments the young blonde woman has her handgun pressed against the masked man's temple. She wasn't taking any chances.
"Move away from him now." She seethes through gritted teeth. She couldn't see his face, but she didn't need to— she could feel the annoyance radiating off the man's statue. Jinah unconsciously grabbed Jaejoong's hand, while the older man watched the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. His spare hand slowly moved to the gun he had strapped to his hip, for reassurance.
Taeyeon cursed under her breath as she shot a quick glance behind her small shoulders. The five men from before were all closing in on her and the others, and they all had their blades gripped in-between their red-tinted fingers. , she thinks.
She hears a gentle cackle escape from the masked man's lips. It was dark, mocking, unnatural— he wasn't mocking the current position of power he had over her, he was mocking her mere existence. Oh, how little Taeyeon had changed over the years. She learned to fight for herself— as did he, but they both had their different stories of how society chipped at their innocence and made them into the jewels they are today. He sometimes wonders how they'd fend off with each other. Fighting to the death, that is.
She doesn't notice until he pulls the mask off. She can see the orange -green specks, his dilated pupils. She sees the boy of soy and milk and blackberries. The same one that swore to protect her when they had to fend for herself. "J-Jongin.. Oppa?" She curses at herself for letting that foul word slip her lips. But she couldn't help it. Her heart was racing at what felt like a thousand miles per hour, her frail arms were covered in bulging goosebumps— she wishes she could just jump into his arms and cry into those broadened shoulders. She'd wipe her nose against his shirt, but he wouldn't mind because—"don't worry, that's what families do, Tae."— she remembers when he said that. It was in that Thai hotel on that really hot day. She can feel her cheeks getting wet, so she quickly wipes them away with the end of her sleeve. 'God, I'm acting like a little ' she thinks. But she shouldn't have. Because in those 30 seconds that it took for her to well, remember, she had let her guard down, and one of Jongin's men had pressed a gun firmly against the side of her head.
"You're such a baby, Tae." He says in a measured tone. He's not smiling, but he's not stopping them either. Her knees give way and she collapses onto the floor in a heap. She feels lightweight— like a feather floating through a hurricane, she's lost all sense of direction. Her whole life she thought he had died. But he didn't, (couldn't) (wouldn't)— but he was standing there alive and in flesh.
"Taeyeon!" It's Jaejoong's voice who she hears, but she doesn't exactly hear him. His words echo through her mind in small ripples, like a drop of water penetrating the serenity of a still river. Slowly, ever so slowly, her vision starts to blur— she's not sure if it's the tears that's blurring it, or something else. But either way, there's no way she can stop it. "Taeyeon! Taeyeon!" She's being shaken by a pair of strong hands, but it makes her head spin and slowly she can feel her body giving into the darkness. The emotions are all too much. Keep your heart in your pocket, not on your sleeve or you will sense defeat, was the piece of advice she'd once received. But dearest Jessica, how could she possibly use it now? It was far too late for redemption. The lotus seed had already rotted away.
Never forget, dear children, 'The innocent die first'.
* * *
04:19, Location unknown— Somewhere in Seoul's east.
"She's out cold." Baekhyun had kneeled on the ground beside Taeyeon's immobile body and shook her, but the latter received no response. An annoyed groan slipped from the chief's cracked lips.
"Don't worry, lover boy. It was only a soft tap." Jongin explains as he twirls around the tip of the blade atop his thin finger. A small line of blood seeps from his skin, but it's quickly removed by the slither of his tongue. Chanyeol shivers.
Byun Baekhyun reaches into the inside pocket of his woolen coat, his thin fingers wrap around a basic black pistol. The metal is cold on his hands, but they're cold with opportunity. His finger rests on the trigger as he pulls it up to face Jongin's smirking face. "You're under arrest, sir." he says in a soft, determined tone. Jaejoong's got his side, with a twin pistol pointing at Jongin's face all the same.
Silence bathes the men, and the darkness of the night weighs heavy on their shoulders. When Jaejoong breathes he can see cold mist escaping his dry lips. He wonders if the cold inside his body adds to the effect. His eyes glance over at Jinah, and when she gasps he also spots the same-colored mist filtering out of her red-tinted hole. A part of him feels relieved, but when he feels the end of the cold metal gun being pressed against his temple, and a faint chuckle, he's bought back to reality.
Byun Baekhyun and Park Chanyeol all have their guns firmly pointed at the young leader, their arms are aching from the relentless stand-off, but the talented officers know better than to back down. Kim Jaejoong also has his handgun pointed at Kim Jongin despite the gun that's pointed on his own temple by one of Jongin's henchmen.
Bang.
Baekhyun gasps.
Chanyeol looks away.
Metal bullet, left side of his skull. Pieces of fractured bone spray onto the wall behind him coated with sickly (sweet) blood.
"Dont you dare," She spits through gritted teeth. She's walking towards the wriggling man with a sinister grin tugging at her lips.
Sinister. Deadly. Evil. Unholy. Devil. Girl.
Jinah.
Another gun shot is heard. This time it's metal against jaw. The friction causes the man's face to split into half. There's a mess of flesh and skin dangling off one side of his face. He screams, and her laughs echoes through the cold dimly-lit room. The open back door sends a gush of wind into the room, sending strands of her sandy-blonde hair flying against the crystalline skin of her face.
"... ing touch," She bends over the newest victim. This time she uses her nails— positions them at the top of his skull and in one slow (oh, so slow) movement, she proceeds to pull his very layer of skin off his own face. There's blood everywhere— it's ruining her manicure, but the joyous sound of his screaming is like music to her ears. This is what she lives off.
".. My Kim Jaejoong!" She's standing in front of the man that has his gun shoved against Jaejoong's temple. But for this man, she doesn't use the gun. It falls to the floor with a loud click. Her lips purse upwards as she lets out a vicious snarl.
Sin. Sinner. Monster. Villan. Hunter. Satan.
Jinah.
Im Jinah pounces onto the man, he's desperately trying to struggle out of her weight. But it's like the (girl) suddenly weighs a thousand pounds. She loves this feeling. The feeling of flesh under her nails, blood moistening her hands. She's in a mess of red, whites and yellows. She claws at his face— in the space of 5 minutes he's already a-grade deformed. "Don't ing touch my Jaejoong." She chants over and over again as she smashes his teeth into a mess of what looks like oats in tomato sauce.
Nobody dares to pull her off of the now corpse of a former man. They're all frozen in place— even Jongin, the reason of this all. The whole room is silent except for the bone tingling sound of flesh being ripped off bone, with the occasional snarl from Jinah's part.
The girl's body slowly rises up onto her two feet, she turns to look at Jaejoong- the man she had just saved. Time stops. Jaejoong's eyes darken as his hand brushes against her tinted cheeks. So young, so beautiful, such a mess. He could save her, if she lets him.
But is she the one that needs saving, genius?
In the aftermath of the stunned silence, his strong arms wrap around her thin waist , and without the need to think twice, he reaches over to press his lips on hers. She tasted like his childhood in his mouth and he regrets not doing this earlier. Jinah, beautiful Jinah. She is his, and he is hers. He was proud, and she was happy.
This is the moment when fate had decided.
From this point on there was no turning back.
They had already dug their own grave.
The angels had already cowered.
The gates had already shut.
Satan had already rose.
It was survival of the fittest from here on end.
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