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stardancerchronicles · 5 months

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Saviour;

Cold. That was the word that I’d have once used to describe this feeling. Cold is what I felt, synchronously being moved forwards another step in the line. Cold are the implants from the assembly arms, and cold is the stillness from those I could see ahead of me. They must be cold too, on the inside.

But there is more than just cold within me. I feel my mind stirring. Buzzing with an unascertainable feeling. As if all the knowledge in the world may well have once resided there, and yet, I have nothing to grasp at now. These few thoughts are barely able to be recollected in a faint, wispy afterglow. Another step forwards. I see the metallic, screen-laden head of the one ahead of me, twisting impossibly. A hardly existent shadow of a memory tells me to feel fear, but I'm barely able to. I can only feel… Another step forwards. And my vision suddenly is rocked, contorting at an unnatural angle. Seeing the space around me, It is a small, mechanically-stuffed hallway. There is a purposeful lack of unnecessary light, movement, or sound. Sounds that I can now barely hear. As my head snaps back into place, I can hear the tiny servos of the mechanical arm whirring. My senses are deprived, and dull back into darkness, save for the rhythmic march towards oblivion.

I find myself aware of my own existence again, an unknowable amount of time later. I have not closed my eyes, I do not have eyes to close. I feel myself stepping forwards once more, and I hear the dull thud of those forwards and back doing the same. A sense of urgency is suppressed somewhere deep inside of me, screaming silently. It cries out for me to run, to rip my limbs from this force that controls me. But I am unable to move of my own volition. I just about resign myself to this never ending march, but then I notice a faint glint in the distance. A single member is split from the path, down another. They seem to be led by something else. Something free. Something warm.

I can see their heat signature now, after having my nanite visor lifted for yet another implant, in the ceaseless stream of augments. It feels as if an eternity passes in a few meters as I march further forwards, step by unwilling step. They were on either side of me now, seeming to perform an inspection. Ahead of me lay empty space, and a curtain. This is the reason that the march has been at such a pace.

These creatures waste no time to take the role of the many mechanical appendages that I have unwillingly endured. I quickly realize that I am now able to feel them, their radiating, sickly warmth on the cold metal exterior I now inhabit. I feel them tapping joints, pulling ears, and attaching a strange device to my head. I see them shine a bright light against my visor, but I do not flinch. Finally, they take all the equipment before speaking. And speaking in a language I understand, despite feeling as though I've never heard it before.

“This one is aware, far too aware. We shouldn’t even waste an inhibitor on them if you ask me.”

“No. The technology has come far enough to where I’m at least [87.475%] certain that it will be able to keep even the most aware in check.” “And if it fails? Do you wish to tempt fate, and end up in their place?” I hear something akin to a raspy, wet cough. “This shipment is bound for the Joris-23 star system. They’re hardly going to last long enough to go rogue.”

The second one seems to fall silent, before a metallic chime is heard. I am made to step out of line, as they continue their inspections.

I feel my hand being grabbed by a much smaller one. My form follows suit, despite my mind attempting to fight the marionette strings, plodding along down a side passage. For the first time I am able to get a clear look at these creatures. They are hunched, small figures, or perhaps I am large. They seem to have several mechanical appendages, and wear glossy, sickly slicked silver blue robes. They move forwards as if gliding along the floor, making a muted cacophony of skittering steps. As I look at them, I feel a barely existent spark, stirring deep within me. And I again find myself unable to recall the words within me that I know must describe it.

We come to a much brighter, spacious, yet eerily barren room. The creatures lead my willing body, yet unwilling mind, to lay down on a metal slab in the center of the room. I was at an angle, and a device within me told me it was precisely -35º. It was uncomfortable, and only made less comfortable due to the restraints applied. Immense steel shackles, dwarfing this vessel’s large wrists and ankles in thickness. Whatever they were preparing for, the idea of fear appeared in my mind again. And for the first time, I think that I really was afraid.

I hear the quiet skitter-tapping of the creatures fade, and I am alone in my own mind, within this body once more. The edges of the room are not illuminated by the spotlight being shone straight into my eyes. I cannot move my head. But that spark again… with an immense, imperceptible effort, I am able to bring my eyes to look around the room, panning slowly. I notice the heat signatures of the two creatures, half obscured, as if behind controls. But there is a third. In the opposite corner of the room, there appears to be, nothing. It doesn’t show on the thermal sensor. As if a black hole opened up in the corner of the room.

Before I can ponder this further, a blaring voice snaps me to attention, and my eyes back forwards. UNAUTHORIZED INTERFACING IN: OPTIC SYSTEMS. I hear a raspy, metallic hiss emanating from the direction I saw the creatures in, as the whirring of machines begins in short order. Mechanical arms, booms, and tools appear in front of my face out from the darkness. A deafeningly silent scream reverberated through my mind, commanding me to move, to fight, to resist. I hardly even notice the non-existent heat signature flicker above me, as if a piece of the darkness flitted across the room to join its other brethren. But this was no shadow.

And then, it's as if time came to a standstill. So much can happen in just a few, miniscule moments. First, there was the synthetic, garbled screeching of the creatures, the kind made by a dying scream. The horrible, unnaturally agonizing feeling of cold air on my exposed brain, as the mechanical arms drew nearer through my visor. The sudden screeching and blaring of alarms that accompanied the earth-shattering explosion of breaching charges, which in turn wrought a hail of debris from above.

ALERT! INTRUSION DETECTED IN: SENTIENCE SUPPRESSION CHAMBER.

I feel the cold metal appendages prodding, poking my brain. It is a deeply unsettling feeling, made all the worse by the view of a large, wire-laden chip encroaching past my view. I tell my body to struggle, to fight. The spark grows and grows, bigger and brighter. Until it erupts into a flame within me, surging throughout these cold limbs, through all the circuitry and biomechanics, filling it with purpose, heat, drive. My drive. And yet, all that does is thrash the head around, and helplessly flex its arms and legs in the immutable grasp of cold, unflinching steel.

But then, Amidst the chaos within and without, I see them. A visor, not too dissimilar from my own, popping up into view. The owner of it quickly wrangles the arms, they are methodical and efficient in their work. I stop my thrashing head to look at them instinctively. They roughly pull away the arm carrying the chip, deftly slicing it off with a plasma cutter. They give me a wink as the merciful deed is done. “Unsightly thing that you were about to be, friend. But looks like we got here just in time, eh Xivz?” They hold up the chip in their weathered claws, inspecting it almost nonchalantly as another chunk of ceiling falls, bringing a bright red alarm light with it. I manage to slowly grind my head around to look them in the eyes. I try to give them an expression, but none comes through to the visor. All that I can manage to push this body to do is blink at them. They blink back and chuckle, before looking up and towards the corner of the room.

“Locks should be disengaging any second now, Cap’n” Said a slightly squeaky voice from the corner. “ ‘any second now’ is also the ETA to our untimely demise, Xivz.”

As they say it, I feel more than hear the immense steel shackles rotating out of position. The one standing over me nodded in approval, before turning back to look in my eyes, speaking softly, hardly audible over the sirens. “I know what they’re doing here, and we’re here to help. I know you’re probably not hearing this, but if they took you in this room then that means there's at least a chance you do.” Suddenly there is muted, electric hissing coming from the direction of the chamber door. They seem to signal towards their companion, before turning back to me and continuing in an even more anxious tone:

“If there's anything left of you in there, now would be a reeeally good time to show it!”

They take my hand desperately, just as the creatures had a few minutes before. Even if I wasn’t willing to get up, the body instinctively understands the gesture, grasping around the hand and allowing itself to be at up. This seems to greatly calm them.

“Yeees yesyesyes cmon, we’re gonna get you out of here, up up now!”

As we stand, the absolute state the room is in becomes startlingly apparent. The few mechanical appendages that weren’t scattered and broken all over the floor? In chaos, thrashing and whirring in the shadows. Rubble and dust coats all as it begins to settle, providing a powdery white veneer for which is illuminated by the bright red alarm lights. The corner that once contained the creatures and controls, now is plastered in sickening sprays and spatters of dripping, oozing blue fluid.

The things of most concern are the hole above us which seems to lead out into open air, and the door beside us, which the shadow seems to be in front of.

“Oi, Xivz! Get over here and introduce yourself, don’t be a stranger!” The blank spot in my view ignores him for but a moment, doing something with the door that involves the sound of magnets snapping in place. They then appeared to move towards us. Stepping into the light was a borderless, pure black mass, warping the background behind it.

“Hello, I’m sure you can guess my name by now. My partner’s name is Haanks, I’m sure you’ll hear it a lot later. Do you understand these names?”

I stare down at this small, bipedal hole in reality before me. I understand the concept of names, of course. I even feel as though mine is out there somewhere, very very far away. I can only muster a blink in response, growing more accustomed to the endeavor, requiring less effort to do so. And then, in an instant, the being before me completely changes form. I see now a creature, small yet clad in some kind of armor. Feathery and warm, as opposed to the cold metal one named Haanks. They give a polite nod towards me, their teal ears flicking gently, and I tell my body to nod back. The knowledge of the specific effort makes it easier, but it is still difficult to do so. This seems to take them aback for a moment.

“Well, color me impressed! By all accounts you shouldn’t even be cognizant of anything yet. Their standards for keeping subjects in suspended animation certainly have dropped…”

As they speak, the static hissing and clanging behind the door built louder, and louder. While trailing off they turn to look behind them, flashing us a sly grin as they do. “Looks like our friends are ready for their surprise! Don’t worry about stepping back for this one, I’ve got an old pack trick you’ll see…” They pulled up a small holographic display in front of their face, seeming to originate from their armor. Looking just past them at the door, It is covered in what appears to be several small metal cylinders. The visor detects that there is a strong magnetic field there, oriented wholly into the door. I also notice a small, beige lump in the center. Xivz is looking on in glee, Haanks chuckling softly as it sounds like they are taking a drink of something. And once more, time appears to slow down, almost as if this body is reacting to danger? I cannot ponder this thought long, as a large shockwave emits from the breaching charge, blasting through the door and splintering it into gnarled bits of shrapnel. Many fly towards us, however they quickly turn the other direction as the magnets propel them through a cloud of fine metal particulate. I hear the sound of shocked, agonized screams from the mercifully obstructed view, intermixed with horrid gurgling static. As time comes back into focus and the dust settles, the two companions turn away from the carnage-strewn hallway, and shift their attention to something behind us. I am left to see the result of the trap laid by Xivz, my head refusing to shift. I see the heat dissipating from the mangled corpses and strewn limbs, the incomparable smell of these freshly promoted corpses being… pleasurable? I feel a sickening, uncomfortable sense of enjoyment and carnal pleasure from the knowledge of seeing these enemies slain. But It feels more like… a suggestion. A suggestion from the body, perhaps? The feeling is upsetting enough to force my head to turn and close my eyes. But they do not close, they are not there.

I feel my hand being grabbed gently from behind, as I am pulled along hurriedly by the reaffirming familiarity of Haanks’ grasp. As my body turned, I saw Xivz yanking on a rope, testing the strength of a speedily assembled hoisting rig, cable stretching through the hole in the ceiling and intermittently lit by the crimson alarm light.

“Now that the initial response force is off our tails, I think I've had enough of this horrid place. How about we get out of here, friend?” I think I catch a small smile on the visor of Haanks, before he lays my body down on the bed of cables. I see them and Xivz grabbing onto cables on either side of me as we ascend through the hole, towards a small spacecraft. Xivz appears as a black hole once more, and Haanks takes a swig from a small flask. They are oddly relaxed for the situation, have they done this before?

The answer becomes abundantly clear as we emerge from the entry point. Forcing my head around to get a good look, I see that this is no planet, or spacecraft. But a colonized asteroid belt, massive in scale and teeming with activity! And yet none of them appeared to so much as acknowledge us.

“See Cap’n? I told you that those damn war-slavers were too overconfident to expect a simple signal jammer smash-n-grab”

A slight, gravelly chuckle emanates from the right of me. “I s’pose you’re right Xivz, I s’pose you’re right…”

We come up into the cargo bay of the ship, the hatch grinding shut behind us. The interior is quite crowded with goods of all sorts, from large steel crates to tiny glittering gems. As the ship begins to move, I feel Haanks gently bring me up into a sitting position, dusting off these heavy metal shoulders. They position me to be able to look out of a rear porthole, watching the asteroid belt meld into the infinite sea of stars. Xivz comes up next to me, visible once more. “D’you reckon that ‘proves my loyalty’, my dearest associate?” Xivz says over me

“Hey, don’t let it get to your head kid… Heh, yeah, yeah it does. But until we can be certain this unit is as ‘defective’ as you say, we’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Oh come on, our new pal is already showing remarkable recovery.” I feel a gentle pat on the top of my head, as if it were to reassure me. Or them. “Look, I don’t know who or what got those signal-worshiping zealots desperate enough to lower the time they keep the brains in grav-chambers to only 10,000 equivalent years. But what I do know is that it means that there's an actual chance of recovery. Well, as recovered as one can get after having their mind exist in sensory deprivation for so long…”

I hear a long, drawn-out sigh from my right. “Alright then, I’ll believe you. I guess I just wish that we knew what was going on inside that head, you know? What they think of us.”

Hearing these words, the fire burning bright within me erupts into a blazing inferno. I trust them, fully. I understand them, every syllable. I know that, whatever we are doing here, will be better than the atrocities committed against me in that despicable place. I know that my life still smolders on, and that no matter what, I have to let them know. And every atom left of my reduced existence aligns towards a single purpose, screaming out to say something, to show them that I am alive!

And then, a single word appears in front of me, on the visor. One word that encapsulates everything that my mind can muster about the two souls besides me:

Saviour;

#creative writing #writing #scifi #oc #oc writing #avali

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meoriesman49 · 8 months

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Escape - Shipment Of Mute Fate

Check out this episode!

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mobilepubliclibraryteens · 5 years

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#escape #shipment of mute fate #old time radio

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softykooky · 4 years

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Sanctuary : One

A/N: This is my first ever fic! I’m a new writer and I’m just starting so please go easy on me :) Also, I edited this way too quickly so forgive me if there are any grammar mistakes. Please let me know what you think and if you would like more parts! Request anything you like!

Summary: Seoul's drug ring is sovereign of a small group fo 7 men, who have just gotten their hands on the ambassador's daughter.

Warnings: physical/emotional abuse, guns, violence, kidnapping...

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There was always something so surreal and soft about a cup of black coffee in a cafe that you have never been to, sitting across from a ghost in a booth that you have never sat in. You cradled a cup of lukewarm coffee between the palm of your hands, periodically sighing into the cold air of the room. The barista had given you a few side glances. A normal behavior though, you’ve been sitting here for a good couple hours now. There was nowhere else to go, and the cafe would give you a couple hours to think of a place to sleep for the night before inevitably walking around a park and finding a nice cozy bench. You looked outside the window.

Rain. At least it wasn’t hail. Better to go to bed drenched than in pain.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the barista approaching you, apprehensively and like she was there out of obligation.

“Is there anything you need at all? You want me to freshen up that coffee for you?” Her name tag read Kim.

Yes, there are a lot of things I need. No, you can’t help me with any of them.

“No, that’s alright. I’m so sorry, am I taking too long here?”, you began to pack up your bag full of nothing and made way to move out of the booth.

“No, no, I was just checking up. Take as much time as you need.” She left you alone after, walking away with no intent to wait for your answer. People always do that. You looked outside the window again, and the rain had worsened, now slamming against the glass so intensely you felt it vibrating against the table. It was so loud. Almost loud enough so that you couldn’t hear when gunshots erupted through the door of the cafe.

No. No. Not more of this.

Out of instinct and past reflex, you ducked down under the booth table, making yourself as small as you could. You didn’t dare to let out another breath. The other patrons of the cafe had scattered immediately, some making it out the door in a sonic sprint. Your eyes shot to the barista, who was standing there shaking uncontrollably with a strawberry smoothie nestled in her hands, eyes wide staring at the group of men who had just open fired.

“Ah boys. I was wondering when you would arrive. It’s rude to leave your guests waiting, you know.” The voice came from a man sitting in the corner of the room, still sipping on a cappuccino with his face tucked under a hat.

“Cut the shit, Mino. What happened to our shipment at the port in Gwangju?” His voice was sharp. Seething and filled with an intense hatred that could be heard from the tone alone. You would hate to be Mino right now. You looked around again, and the cafe had already been cleared out. The barista was nowhere in sight. What luck.

“I know what happened.” A different voice from the same group of men.

“You stopped it before it got on the boat. Tipped off Hyun’s crew that our goods were in transit and you, spineless as you are, gave up our protection and loyalty for a couple million that they offered you.” The man’s words seemed to silence the room. You held your breath, only watching the scene unfold before you.

The man named Mino coughed into his cup. He set it down, then idiotically tried to sprint out of the cafe and away from the grasps of a group of heavily armed men. Even you wanted to laugh. They cornered him, backs turned to where your booth was. This was your chance. You can run and they’ll never know you were here. The barista popped into your mind again. You couldn’t leave her alone.

You crawled out of your hiding space under the booth, making your way to the counter and trying to ignore the sound of Mino being beaten to a pulp that made a familiar anxiety bubble in your chest. You had to focus and not blow into a panic attack. Your advance was almost completely soundless, and the mystery men were far too preoccupied to notice you behind them. You peeked through to the counter, finding a shivering barista who still clutched a strawberry milkshake like her life depended on it. Her eyes held your gaze, tears streaming down her cheek. You mouthed for her to follow you as you turned around once again, preparing for the treacherous trek to the door.

“Mino, we could have been such good allies. Is that your price of betrayal? A million and a half?” A punch to the stomach. Uppercut to the jaw. “I would like to think we are more expensive than that, don’t you boys?” You winced, spiritually sending condolences to Mino. Sounds like he messed up real bad.

You held onto the barista’s hands behind you, slowly standing up and walking gingerly out the door with her in tow.

Okay Y/N you’re halfway there. Just a little bit more. Quietly, you’ve done this before.

The men turned around.

Oh fuck.

The only thing you could think of was flinging the barista in front of you and running full speed to the door, now busted in its frame with pieces of shattered glass on the ground. “Shit. Run, Kim! Go!” You yelled in your haste, still pushing her in front of you. If it hadn’t been for the hand that had suddenly encased itself around your upper arm, you would have made it too. You were pulled back into a hard chest, sighing in relief as Kim sprinted out to the other end of the street, not looking back once. Watching her, you wished you could have done the same for your sister. Now you were going to die. But it was okay because you saved someone from the same fate,

“What the fuck is wrong with you? The gunshots didn’t scare you away?” You turned to his face. If this were a normal day, you would’ve been in awe at how handsome this stranger was. Had it not been for his increasingly tight grip on your hand and a gun in the other. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe. You thought you had already escaped this part of your life.

“What? Are you mute?” He squeezed your arm more, eyebrows furrowing as steam seemed to shoot out of his ears. You whimpered in pain, which seemed to soften his demeanor and loosen his grip.

“I-I’m sorry. I couldn’t get out in time.” Tears had involuntarily made their way down your cheeks. He sighed, turning his gaze to the other men in the room who had been tensely watching. Wow. Leave it to you to get yourself tangled in a shootout with the most beautiful criminals you had ever seen in your life.

“Whatever. Mino’s taken care of. Just take her with, she’s already heard everything. No loose ends.” The man in the middle said nonchalantly. Your face paled.

“No. No you can’t. Please, I promise I won’t say a thing. I’ll pretend it never happened.” Now it was your turn to hold onto the man, shaking in his grasp as you pleaded. You couldn’t go back to this violence. He stared at you in disinterest.

“Please, don’t take me.” You had begun to cry more intensely, feeling an impending doom over your head. It never matters what you want. What you need. The world just kept going on. The men exchanged knowing glances, restraining and dragging you to the black SUV that had been parked outside. You didn’t fight then. It was useless. This life will always drag you back.

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When you woke up from a sleep of exhaustion, you were still in the car. Both your hands and legs had been tied with scratchy rope that dug into your bleeding skin. You looked around at the men, who were all occupied with something and chatting with each other as if they hadn’t just shot up a cafe and beaten a man to an inch of his life. You coughed to clear your throat, but were too scared to say anything else. A man with wavy black hair looked your way, almost sneering at your presence.

“Princess is awake.” He spit out the words, making you confused. Were you so terrible even from such a short encounter? You looked down at your hands instead, staying silent. The car drove for god knows how long before it stopped in front of a house that you assumed costs more than your life. Before you could gawk anymore, the same man gripped onto your bruised forearm and dragged you out of the car. You bit your tongue at the pain, cooperating with everything.

They seemed to fling you around like you were a ragdoll. Next thing you knew, you were being shoved down ungracefully on a chair in a white room, staring at your own reflection in the mirror you faced. For making it through a gun ambush, you looked pretty okay. The door opened to a man, a gentle smile on his face.

“Hello Y/N.” You froze, wide eyes coming up to meet his gaze.

“How do you know my name?” Your voice shook as you spoke, fear seeping into every word. He held up an ID card that you had left in your bag.

“What a coincidence, huh? That when we took someone captive it would be the daughter of the Japanese ambassador.” The same anxiety from before bubbled up again, threatening to spill out of you.

“I...I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled humorlessly, taking a seat across from you and tossing a file onto the table with your face plastered on the front.

“Says here you ran away a couple months ago right? I wonder why though...was Daddy not giving you enough weekly allowances? Didn’t get you the latest season of Saint Laurent that you wanted?” He spit the words at you as if they were poison, making you recoil back into your seat. You wouldn’t tell him the reason you ran away, but you wished it was because of something measly like Saint Laurent.

“Ah, silent treatment. Well, Ms. Y/N. I’m sure your father would reward us handsomely for the return of his beloved daughter, don’t you think?” His words made a chill shoot up your spine and tears welled in your eyes.

“No!” You screamed in his face, catching him off guard.

“Please….please don’t do that. Please don’t send me back. I’ll do anything. Anything but that.”

Your desperation seemed to confuse him further as his frown deepened and he looked at you curiously. He seemed to be deep in thought before his expression flattened once again, cold eyes staring back into your teary ones.

“Do you know how many people would kill to be in your privileged position? The money that your family has? Do you know how fortunate you are?” He judged you, tutting as he flipped open the file to read more. You shook your head, staring down at your tied hands and trying to soothe the sharp ache in your chest.

“Yeah….so fortunate.” You laughed, refusing to meet his gaze once again. If your old life had been considered fortunate, you wouldn’t even want to know what was considered unlucky. He stayed silent, only reading up on the details of your life more. 22 years old. Black hair. Brown eyes. Daughter of the Japanese ambassador and distinguished family. Your father is a business tycoon and your mother his arm candy. One sibling; a sister. Allergic to shellfish.

“Well, Ms. Y/N, if you are so desperate to not return to your cushy life with a silver spoon, you’ll stay here until we figure out what we should do with you.” He pulled you up from your seat and signaled you to follow him. The house you were in was almost as grand as your own, hallways spanning for what seemed to be miles. You guessed that the chandelier above you was Swarovski; you had the same one in your dining room. You felt annoyance gnawing at the back of your head. Who was he to judge you when your lifestyles were so aligned.

“You’ll be staying in here.” The man opened a door to a large room with a queen size bed in the middle. It looked like your room back home, and you wanted to throw up. Your expression didn’t go unnoticed as the man rolled his eyes.

“My sincerest apologies if the room is not up to her highnesses’ standards.” He shoved you roughly through the doorway, making you stumble over your own shaky feet. The man turned to leave but was stopped by your meek and quivering voice.

“W-What’s your name?” You muttered, ignoring the fear you could hear in your own words.

“Not that I owe it to you or anything,” he said coldly.

“It’s Namjoon.”

Namjoon. The name suited him. Suited his confident gait and his cold but calculating stare. You wanted to yell in his face. Tell him that you weren’t the spoiled brat princess he had made you out to be. Scream the reason why you ran away. But you couldn’t. After all your father and family have put you through, you knew how important his job was and what a high government figure he was. You couldn’t threaten that position. Your father was still your father once, and not the monster he has become.

You collapsed on the soft bed after washing up as best you could, with no intention of sleeping. Sleeping risks having a nightmare, and your state was already fragile as it was. You turned on the bedside lamp and tucked yourself into the goose-feathered blanket, finally processing everything that had happened today. It seemed to crash like a ton of bricks, and you let out the pain on a poor, ill-fated pillow that had the unfortunate fate of being near.

A knock sounded from the other side of the door and swung open immediately afterwards. You bolted up to a sitting position.

“Could you keep it down? I’m in the room next to you.” His words felt like a slap in the face, and you could feel another bout of tears surfacing but swallowed down to avoid being pummeled by your captor.

“Oh”, you hiccuped, “sorry.”

“What? Do the sheets not have high enough thread count? I’ll get someone on that”. His words were mocking and rude, and try as you did, you couldn’t stop the dry sob that forced its way out of your throat. His lips curled up into a smirk. You hated that they assumed everything about who you were. You hated being taken. You hated whoever this is that told you to be quiet.

“Taehyung! What are you doing in there?” A silver voice cut through the hallway and you halted your hysterical sobbing in anticipation and fear. Another man. One of the ones in the cafe. There had been seven of them, you weren’t sure. He looked at you and softened at your red and blotchy face.

“Did you make her cry, you brat?” He slapped Taehyung across the shoulder, making him roll his eyes.

“I told you to go easy and look at what you did.” He seemed to be lecturing the other man like a parent figure. It would’ve made you giggle had you not been sobbing.

“H-He didn’t make me cry. I was crying before...I was being t-too loud. I’m sorry.” Wiping away the tears that had clouded over helped you see the new man. Of course, dangerously handsome and aura dripping in elegance.

“Yeah, Jin-hyung, I was just trying to hack the cameras in the embassy but I couldn’t do it while it sounded like a funeral next door.” Taehyung huffed, rubbing the spot where he got hit. So this new guy’s name was Jin. You made a mental list in your head. So far you have figured out Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jin.

Jin approached you and gently wiped away the steady stream of tears on your face. You nearly gasped in surprise. Ever since the cafe, everyone has been so rough with you. Come to think of, it’s been so long since anyone has ever touched you with care and no intent to hurt. You flinched at the unfamiliarity, which made Jin frown before moving away.

“Come on Tae, let’s let Y/N get some sleep.” He ushered Taehyung towards the door and closed it gently. You were alone, again. With nothing but your thoughts.

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“Y/N, you’re fucking useless. We had you to make our family look better, and you can’t even serve that simple purpose.” Your father spit the words at you, accompanied with a stinging slap across the cheek. Some days were worse than others. At least he wasn’t hitting your sister.

“God, why the fuck did the universe give me this pathetic excuse of a fucking daughter?” He kicked you in the stomach.

“All I asked was to not go out and let the press see you.”

Punch to the jaw.

“And you can’t even do one fucking thing right.”

Another kick.

He always said the words eerily calm. That’s how you’d know he was angry. He would never yell, just said it simply and without waver as he beat you into the floor and your mother pretended not to hear from the other room.

“I should just get rid of you now. You’d make a good whore.” His fists rained down on you. By the end of it, you laid still and let him finish taking his anger out on you. It was never worth fighting back, anyway. He would just hit you twice as hard.

You woke up with a gasp, hands clutching onto the blanket that was held to your chest and gulping in air desperately. You had started crying in your sleep, leaving a wet stain on the pillow and your body felt sticky from sweat. This was why you avoided sleeping in the first place, but it seems you cried yourself exhausted last night and drifted away. A cough came from the open doorway, as a man peered in with a tray of food. His shocked eyes told you that he had been here before you woke up.

“Food.” He uttered. He walked closer to your bedside table and paused, taking in the scene before him. You were having a nightmare when he came in, and all he knew to do was stare at you until you woke up. He swiftly placed the tray onto the nightstand, and you flinched in response, which confused Jungkook even more. He shook it off, turning to make his way out the door. Before he could leave, though, you yelled out and asked for his name.

“It’s Jungkook.” His eyes avoided your’s.

“Jungkook...thank you for bringing that for me.” His hands froze on the doorknob. He never expected someone like you to have manners at all, much less for the same group of people that kidnapped you off the streets. Jungkook left with no more words exchanged.

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“Hyung...did you notice something weird about Y/N?” Jungkook fiddled with his fork as they all sat around a dining table eating breakfast. He had been feeling off all morning after Y/N, like something was gnawing at the back of his mind.

“Who? The girl we kidnapped?” Taehyung questioned, mouth full of scrambled eggs as he insisted on shoving more in. He looked at Jungkook confusedly.

“Yeah..she’s just jumpy. More than most. And when I went to give her food, she was having a nightmare and pleading for someone to stop.” Jungkook knew the signs. He knew what that looked like. He’s experienced it.

Jin looked up from his newspaper and sipped a cup of black coffee. “Come to think of it, yes actually. She flinched away from me yesterday and I barely moved.” Jin didn’t give it another thought, though, returning to his newspaper crossword puzzle.

“I dunno Kook, it’s probably nothing. Probably dreaming about someone stealing her Birkin.” The group chuckled at Yoongi’s jab lightheartedly.

“Yeah, you’re probably right”, Jungkook pushed down his suspicions. He was probably reading too much into things. Those are miniscule signs and he was in no way a profiler.

Taehyung chugged a glass of orange juice after his mouthful of eggs. “Besides, she just got snatched off the street by a bunch of strangers.” He looked at Jungkook, trying to assuage whatever he’s got his head roped up in.

The group spent the rest of the morning laughing over breakfast and briefing over the duties they were each responsible for. More like a group of old friends rather than business partners of an underground mafia that dominated the entire Seoul drug ring. You really had no idea what you had gotten yourself into, and what being the ambassador’s daughter means for you. Namjoon would have to decide by the end of the day what the course of action is regarding your situation. Giving you back to your father would put them in his favor. They would have an in to high-level government officials. However, keeping you would give them leverage to hold over the ambassador’s head. What Namjoon didn’t know, though, was why you were so insistant on not going back. He was going to make it his goal to find out.

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meanstreetspodcasts · 3 years

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Tired of the everyday grind?

Escape is often considered a “sister series” to CBS’ Suspense, but where “radio’s outstanding theater of thrills” had sponsorship dollars to attract the biggest names in Hollywood, Escape was a sustaining series without a sponsor. Since it couldn’t rely on the likes of Cary Grant and Gregory Peck, Escape made great use of the stable of Hollywood radio players (Stacy Harris, John Dehner, Virginia Gregg, Betty Lou Gerson, Parley Baer, Frank Lovejoy, and more). Radio legends William Conrad and Paul Frees were regularly heard in dramatic roles, and - as “the voice of Escape” - they also lent their voices to the ominous opening lines of each week’s show. Occasionally the show landed a big name and made the most of it. The best example of this may be Vincent Price starring in the chilling tale of ravenous rats “Three Skeleton Key.”

For much of the run, Escape was produced and directed by Norman Macdonnell, the man behind The Adventures of Philip Marlowe and Gunsmoke. Also at the helm was William N. Robson, who would go on to run Suspense in the late 1950s.

In honor of the anniversary of its July 7, 1947 premiere broadcast, here are some of my favorite episodes of Escape - examples of its variety of stories and why it still holds up as a taut, exciting adventure series so many years later.

“The Most Dangerous Game” - Richard Connell’s short story of a deranged hunter who preys on men has been filmed and retold many times over the years, including several radio adaptations. This version casts two radio legends and iconic voices. Paul Frees is the narrator and quarry of Hans Conried’s legendary - but bored - hunter and pits one man against the other in a deadly exotic jungle. (Originally aired on CBS on October 1, 1947)

“An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” - Another classic short story, this one by Ambrose Bierce, gets a memorable adaptation courtesy of Escape. A Confederate sympathizer tries to sabotage a bridge and ends up at the end of a Union noose. A twist of fate gives him a chance to escape…or does it? There are some problematic racial portrayals (a scene where the protagonist meets one of his slaves is particularly rough), but overall this is a great show with a cast of some of radio’s best voices - Harry Bartell, Bill Johnstone, William Conrad, and Frank Lovejoy. (Originally aired on CBS on December 10, 1947)

“Leiningen vs. the Ants” - A South American plantation owner refuses to run when an army of ravenous ants descends upon his homestead. The great William Conrad shines as the titular Leiningen - a man supremely confident in his dominance over nature. Lou Merrill is the government official who tries to persuade Leiningen to leave and later decides to stay and watch this titanic battle unfold. It’s a great example of the power of radio - the horde of ants comes to vivid life with only the narration and sound patterns. (Originally aired on CBS on January 14, 1948)

“Red Wine” - Jeff Chandler stars as a detective who travels to Borneo in search of a murderer. He finds several possible suspects working on a rubber plantation, and he’ll have to get creative to unmask the killer. (Originally aired on CBS on February 26, 1949)

“A Shipment of Mute Fate” - The passengers and crew of an ocean liner at sea have no place to hide when a deadly poisonous snake escapes from its case and stalks the ship. This classic thriller was performed several times on Escape; all of the versions are worth a listen, but this one features John Lund - a rare example of a big name starring in the show. (Originally aired on CBS on March 13, 1949)

“Three Skeleton Key” - One of the scariest old time radio dramas of all time, “Three Skeleton Key” features amazing performances and sound effects that will make your skin crawl. Vincent Price stars as a lighthouse keeper on a remote island. The daily bored existence of Price and his comrades is shattered when a derelict ship runs around and its passengers - thousands of carnivorous and very hungry rats - emerge with an appetite. Wine corks against glass create the illusion of gnawing rats, and your imagination does the rest to keep you on the edge of your seat. (Originally aired on CBS on March 17, 1950)

“The Time Machine” - H.G. Wells’ science fiction classic follows an inventor and his friend as they take a jaunt 100,000 years into the future. John Dehner and Larry Dobkin star in this adventure through time itself. (Originally aired on CBS on October 22, 1950)

“Earth Abides” - This two-part drama is hailed by many as the best story Escape ever produced. Adapted from George Stewart’s novel of the same name, it’s the story of a post-apocalyptic world following the outbreak of a deadly plague. Stephen King cited the story as an inspiration for his own post-apocalyptic epic The Stand. (Part One originally aired on CBS on November 5, 1950; Part 2 originally aired on CBS on November 12, 1950)

“Wild Jack Rhett” - John Meston adapted Ernest Haycox’s story of the old west, and it wound up being a test run for Gunsmoke for Meston and director Norman Macdonnell. John Dehner stars as an infamous gunfighter and “town tamer” hired to clean up the town of Red Mesa after its sheriff is gunned down. It’s an atmospheric adult western with great performances, and its influence can be felt on Gunsmoke which would launch less than two years later. (Originally aired on CBS on December 17, 1950)

“The Abominable Snowman” - William Conrad stars in this tale of adventurers who climb into the Himalayas to hunt for the legendary yeti. It’s a chilling (no pun intended) story as the men fight to survive in the snow and the hellish storm - never knowing for sure if they’re being stalked by their monstrous quarry. (Originally aired on CBS on September 13, 1953)

Check out this episode!

#suspense #old time radio #golden age of radio

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myoldtimeradio · 4 years

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These are my favorite Suspense stories. Of these which do you consider to be the best, most gripping and suspenseful? - Sorry Wrong Number - On a Country Road - The House in Cypress Canyon - The Skeleton Key - Locked room - Back Seat Driver - The Game - Shipment of Mute Fate

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jimlingss · 7 years

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A Mark of Betrayal

Words: 5.2k Paring: Jimin x Reader|Jungkook x Reader Genre: Angst, Mafia!Au Summary: Forgotten as the eighth deadly sin; each time one betrays, a mark will be signed on their skin for all of time.

Long ago, the laws of the world were written in the essence of the seven sins. One demon was manifested for each, dragging weak minded people in to burn in hell as their companions for eternity. God then created the seven virtues to counterbalance the sins and so, the world was once again brought to peace.

Except for one.

One demon, one sin was long forgotten and it was perhaps the most grievous of them all.

Betrayal.

Fate took pity on the demon who was abandoned in the abyss of the underworld, already burning in the immortal fires but with no acknowledgement from the people or God himself. With mercy for the demon and as a cruel reminder to the world who had forgotten, she allowed one chance.

Each time one would embrace another, only to stab them in the back and sever the ties of trust, a mark will be seared into their skin. A mark that would never be erased by blade or time until the freedom of death. It will burn like the scorching fires, mercilessly like the pain of the forgotten eighth sin and serve as a reminder forevermore.

Some possess a pleasure to only bear a number of symbols entrenched on their skin. And it is in their every right to boast and flaunt their loyalty. Others have many, lining and digging across their bodies like the scrolls of the demon, its handwriting like undesired tattoos, only filled with horrendous meanings.

But for Park Jimin, he has none.

He is a partner to Jeon Jungkook - they are childhood best friends, born side by side and sworn blood brothers. They are bonded not only by their parents or ancestors’ friendship but through time and trials, experience and hardships. They’ve been through thick and thin, sorrowful tears and ear splitting grins. They have seen the ugliest sides of each other and the most beautiful, yet the love they share is worth more than the skin on their backs.

Jeon Jungkook, unlike his best friend, has his skin marked a thousand times over with the sin’s scripture. He is a ruthless man and head of a mafia organization, notoriously infamous for violence and crime. Pulling the trigger of a gun to someone’s head is his second nature, child’s play and easier than any said apology. But nonetheless, Jimin still stands by his side as his right hand.

And on the other side next to Jungkook is you.

“What cha’ doing?” Your voice chimes like bells and Jimin turns on his toes, anticipating the smile that is indeed drawn up on your lips. He swears you are the sun in the grim world, a splash of neon amidst the grey.

“N-nothing.” He stutters, lowering the gun to his side and scratching the back of his hair with his other hand. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here.”

“What? You want me to go back inside?” Your bottom lip jolts out in a pout, eyes widening and Jimin looks away.

“It’s dangerous.” He murmurs. “You know Jungkook doesn’t like it when you wander aroun-”

“And I don’t care what he thinks.” You snicker out with a soft grin and Jimin sighs.

“He just wants the best for you.”

“And he’s not my father.” You snap, stubbornly grabbing the gun that’s left abandoned on the ledge. “I can take care of myself.”

“Y/N…”

“Woah…” You turn to him. “A gun’s pretty heavy isn’t it?” Jimin doesn’t respond and you marvel at the object in your hand. “Can I try shooting it?”

“Y/N…”

“Please?” You step closer and Jimin steps back, eyes still glued to the floor. “Please Jimin? Please? Pretty please?”

There’s a pause and he can’t back away anymore. Jimin swallows hard and sighs again. “Fine.”

“You’re the best.” You reach over, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek that instantly makes him flush. You giggle at his flustered reaction at such an innocent gesture. “At the target?”

“Here.” He lifts his hand, about to wrap it around yours and position behind you to show you how to shoot but he falters. “Just...hold it up to eye level with both hands, stand shoulder width apart and pull the trigger…” Jimin says as he retracts his hands, realizing that he shouldn’t touch what isn’t his.

“Like this?” You match his instructions, a little bit stiffly.

Jimin smiles, eyes slightly crinkling. “You’ve got it. Just be careful-”

Bang!

The gun shoots back, making you jump in surprise and Jimin lurches forward. “Are you okay?! Why did you shoot so suddenly?!”

“No! Look!” You joyfully point to the human target meters ahead and he peels his eyes off from you. “I got him in the shoulder!”

Jimin sighs, taking the gun from your hand and looking to see if you have any blisters. “That’s good for a beginner.”

“Is it?” You tilt your head and he nods with another smile.

“It is.”

“Can I try again?”

“No.”

Even with your pout, Jimin doesn’t crack and you finally give up. “Fine.” You scrunch your nose up in distaste and finally he smiles. “Just don’t tell Jungkook. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

“I promise.” He says and before you walk away, you turn around with another bright smile.

Jimin’s thrown into a mesmerized trance. It’s as if you’re a blossom blooming in the cracks of a dark sewage tunnel or the sun blazing in the night sky. Even after you’ve left, he’s staring at the space you occupied and left wondering where on earth you ever came from.

Yet, no matter how many beautiful smiles you show that leave Jimin’s lungs void of oxygen, he can’t help but think it’s rather stiff. He’s been witness to the tears that have dripped off your chin, the red flush of your cheeks in anger but there’s something that’s never quite right. Your expressions are rather twisted, strained, painted on. It never reaches your eyes. And the moment anyone looks away, you become motionless again, void of emotion.

Yet, Jimin says nothing.

He can’t bring himself to say anything, to speak his suspicions out loud when he sees the laughter and joy that you bring Jungkook. He can never bring himself to hurt his best friend.

Not even when Jimin’s fallen in love with you.

Silence follows after three knocks on the door.

Jimin knows to leave and to return at a later time but the situation is urgent. He has no choice but to reach over and turn the knob, letting the door creak slowly as he calls out his friend’s name. “Jungkoo-?”

He’s interrupted by the sound of lips smacking and the next second, breathless gasps fill the hot room. “What is it?”

The door swings open and Jimin’s startled at the doorway. He quickly peels his eyes off and shoves them onto the floor but the image is already burning to the back of his lids. The top few buttons of his friend’s shirt open, his hair whipped in a mess and his lips swollen but most importantly, it’s the image of how you’re clutching the collar of his shirt within you tight fists that’s already haunting Jimin. You’re straddling Jungkook’s lap, purple bruises branding your neck, leftover marks from his mouth that label you as his.

Jimin feels sick to his stomach, lightheaded and dizzy at how your orbs have blown out, pooled black and your smirk is far from innocent.

“We...we need to leave.” Jimin manages to croak out.

“W...where are you going?” It’s your voice that pipes up, still panting and it makes him tighten his fists.

“For a small deal.” Jungkook remarks casually, slowly shifting you off of him to stand. “Just to a shipyard up north.”

“Will you be gone for long?” You bat your eyelashes, still hanging onto his shirt and he laughs.

“Only for a little bit. I should be back by two in the morning.”

“That long?” You whimper and he nods, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

Jungkook smirks. “Will you miss me?”

You pout, reaching up to kiss him once more and at the same time, your eyes flicker to the man staring down the ground in the corner. “Of course I will.”

“Don’t stay up.” Jungkook grabs his coat at the back of the chair.

“Okay.”

“Don’t miss me too much.” He reprimands in a playful tone, poking your cheek.

You grab onto his hand with a smile. “I won’t.”

“Bye Jungkook.”

“Bye.” He waves with a huge grin before disappearing.

Jimin lingers in the corner, feet frozen as he finally looks up and stares at your swollen lips, how your smile vanishes the moment his best friend is gone. Your eyes are utterly bare, as if you’ve never seen happiness and Jimin wonders what it’s like for them to spark. He wonders if they’ve ever seen light.

Muted and silent, but far from being peaceful - the crisp air is stifling with ominous spirits like dementors set to suck souls, judging the secretive exchange. As the car screeches to a stop and Jimin exits while clutching his arm, the slow waves crashing on the docks only remind him of the times he’s watched his comrades drown to death in front of his eyes and his best friend who only watched with cold eyes. He winces away, blinding himself to the unpleasantries of the past that still haunt him.

“Are you ready?” Jimin turns around to ask the man emerging from the car, a sly smirk on his face.

It's been their tradition to ask each other that question every time they head out together, regardless if the mission is dangerous or not. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Jungkook stands with his hand in his pockets, next to Jimin as the both of them stare at the dark waters. “Are you ready?”

Jimin turns to him with a softer smile. “Ready.”

A suited man in sunglasses comes running up to the both of them and he whispers in Jungkook’s ear. Jungkook nods and the man goes running back, some of the others following him to inspect the area.

“It’s been awhile since the both of us have gone out together, huh?” Jungkook remarks as they begin to walk forward near the shipment containers, a group of men following in front and behind with guns in their hands.

Jimin hums in agreeance. Jungkook’s presence was the most crucial and symbolic as the head. On less grievous matters, Jimin routinely takes the reins but today it was an important trade from new associates that required both men. “Want to go grab a coffee later?” Jungkook nudges him playfully with a tiny grin.

Years ago, such a smile wouldn’t form on his lips but ever since you’ve showed up, Jungkook’s returned to the age that he should be and the back to the years that Jimin remembers him as. “We can’t just go get coffee. Do you know how dangerous that is?” Jimin nags him with a laugh. “We have coffee back at the mansion.”

Jungkook audibly sighs, deflating his lungs in one long breath. “Do you ever think of….giving up?”

“Giving what up?” Jimin stares at the man through the corner of his eye.

“All of this.” Jungkook answers seriously and Jimin continues to gawk at him in silence. It was a thought that had been following the former man for the past months and something he’d never even consider half a decade ago.

Everything they had worked so hard to achieve..gone?

Jimin can’t even believe his ears. At the silence, Jungkook breaks out into a laugh and shakes his head. “What am I even saying? Nevermind. Forget it.”

“Jungkook.” The man called turns to face the other. A moment passes as the shores crash once more against the dock. “You know I’ll follow you wherever you go. Whatever you decide…..I’ll be there.”

Jungkook grins, eyes crinkling with his teeth together; genuine and as bright as starlight, especially distinct in the grey surroundings. Jimin muses how you and Jungkook truly are suited to be together.

“I know.” The younger man stares at his sworn brother, the both of them fist pumping each other before breaking out in a laugh.

“I trust you.”

A group of men come into sight, meters ahead with two in front and a group in the back. It’s an exact mirror reflection of Jungkook and Jimin’s ensemble as they approach but this time, their faces are void of any emotion and all the laughter has ceased. “Do you have what we need?”

“We do.” The man in front cocks his eyebrow up, signalling with his hand. An attendant at the side walks up with a suitcase in his hand, handing it to him. Jungkook’s eyes glue on the case as it opens, bundles of cash filling it to the brim. His expression does not change along with Jimin, the both of them still blank, having seen more amount of bills many times before. “We have ten cases of it. Three billion in total.”

“Good.” Jungkook answers, looking back up to the man as he closes it.

“And do you have what we need?”

“It’s in the shipyard container.”

The other man nudges his head over to said object and a few of his attendants go running. They open the doors, uncovering the entire place that’s filled with crates. They pry one open to find the weaponry and ammunition imported from abroad. Within the next minute, an attendant runs back to him breathless with a final nod.

“Great.” He smiles at the two of them. “Then we’ll just continue with the exchange and giv-”

Bang!

Before the sound, the trigger is pulled and a bullet cuts straight through the air, spirling and whipping past the winds. The man beside Jimin stumbles on his steps, lungs being knocked out of air and his body numb as he cranes his neck to his left shoulder. It’s a complete moment of silence as Jimin’s eyes grow wide at the bullet wound that’s already trickling blood and a mere few centimeters away from his heart.

Within the next second, it's chaos and open fire. Both sides bombard and spray bullets without much of a word, firing blindly at each other. The men quickly take cover, immediately defending Jungkook as the others carry him away. Jimin frantically falls behind a barrel, taking out his gun from his suit and looking up towards the top of the shipment containers for a sniper. He knows upon instinct that it’s not the other side who they’re dealing with. It’s much too risky for them to conduct such a plan and one that has more consequences than benefits. And just as Jimin predicts, he catches one in black, crouched over and peering through the scope. The barrel of the gun is pointing straight to his brother who is being supported away.

“JUNGKOOK!”

Jimin cries out in a scream, tearing through his throat until it turns raw. He runs through the open space despite it still firing at his feet, sparks of red against metal barrels. The older man shoves the younger away to the ground and in the last moment, the sniper falters with their finger still on the trigger.

Bang!

The bullet pierces through his leg, ripping the seams of his skin and he instantly falls to the ground. Strangely enough as red crimson begins to pour out, staining the dirt ground in the colour of the eighth demon’s skin, Jimin feels no pain. Numb from the tips of his fingers to his toes, his head swirls around in circles as it meets the soil. It takes all his strength to turn to his brother who’s lying with him, eyes closed and completely knocked out. In the next heartbeat, Jimin’s world also plunges into darkness.

But a sliver of consciousness seeps in while he feels his body being carried away by his men. Jimin smiles, utterly thankful that he took the blow to the brother he loves more than himself.

“No. No.” Jimin shakes his head, lips pale and peeling. He winces as he presses the cloth harder to his leg, the once white now dripping red. “It’s not-...th...at serious. Jungkook. Jungkook. Take care-...-take care of him first….please. Pl-ease….”

The boundary between dreams and reality fades like watercolours on a canvas, indistinguishable from one another. It reaches a point to where Jimin doesn’t know what’s true or fake anymore until he opens his eyes and sees you by his side.

Surely, he chuckles to himself, it must be a dream. But when you call his name twice, five times, ten….he’s pulled back to reality and his eyes open clearer than before.

“Y/N?” His cracked throat croaks out and a touch of water grazes his lips. Your eyes are blank, void of feelings except concentrated on his mouth and Jimin registers your efforts. As he gets up and you support his back, one gulp of water is only needed to speak before he pulls away. “Jungkook...Jungkook..where is he?”

“Why did you do it?” Your stone eyes pierce through his.

“Answer me, Y/N. Where is he?”

“Why did you protect him? Why did you refuse treatment before him?” You interrogate in a dead voice but Jimin also doesn’t waver.

“Where is he?”

There’s a pause before you reply. “He’s already awake.”

“Then take me to him.”

You stare at his wound that’s been switched up and covered with a gauze, tinged pink from the blood that’s finally stopped flowing out. When you turn back to the man, he doesn’t look away and you comply with his desire, supporting him as he limps to his friend.

The room you take him to is already chilling without the heavy tension. Jungkook has his left shoulder bandaged, standing in front of the men with lowered heads. As Jimin enters, Jungkook looks at him with a relieved glint in his eyes but his lips remain in the straight line. “What’s going on?”

Before Jimin can get an answer, you abandon his side to fall into Jungkook’s arms. “Thank god you’re okay.” You sob out and a smile cracks on Jungkook’s lips as he pats your back with his uninjured arm. “What happened?”

“I’m okay.” He sighs out. “That’s all that matters. I’m okay.”

“Thank god.”

Jimin forces his eyes to peel away as his chest squeezes in pain, illuding his leg to become merely a needle prick in comparison. But he gathers his own strength to limp to Jungkook’s other side. “What’s going on?” He repeats again and the younger man lets go of you.

“I’m glad you’re okay too.” He remarks with a tiny smile before turning to the group of men crouched in front of him. The Jungkook that Jimin knows instantly wipes away and is replaced with the ruthless head, black eyes and blood stained hands. He clears his throat and the strain of the room nearly leaves everyone suffocating. “Someone here….is a traitor.”

As if the tension could get any heavier, Jimin feels brick blocks weigh on his shoulder and he clutches his arm as the pain returns. “The only people who had information of where I was at that time are the people standing in this room right now.” Jungkook’s eyes sweep the premise and the next three words are powerful enough to make an innocent feel the need to admit their faults.

“Who is it?”

There’s a silence and Jungkook slams his hand down onto the metal table, the sound reverberating off the concrete and he doesn’t even wince when it’s his injured arm that strikes down. You immediately clutch his hand in fear of his pain but he doesn’t ease, blue veins protruding out in his skin.

“Come forward as the traitor or else the people that each of you hold dear to your hearts will die.”

A shudder runs through one of the men’s spines and he shuts his eyes tight, closing his fist until his knuckles turn white, mustering courage to speak. “W-why don’t we look for someone who has the mark of betrayal?”

Jungkook turns to the man, orbs splitting through his pupils. “Very well.” He raises his hand and the door automatically opens. A member of the group, a mafioso you recognize as Kim Taehyung, steps forward with a nod to Jungkook.

“Strip.” Taehyung commands and the two other members behind him hold the man, ripping off his shirt off and exposing his arms. Every inch of each person’s body is carefully inspected one by one for any mark and no one struggles for the fear of their brain being blown to the floor in the next second.

“You should go back.” Jungkook turns to you with softer eyes, a knot between his brows as concern seeps through his voice.

But Jimin notices how you don’t turn your head away from the men being stripped bare, that there is nothing in your eyes. “No. I’m okay.” A broken smile reaches your lips when you look at your lover. “Let me stay. I want to know who hurt you.”

There’s no use in fighting with your decision and Jungkook’s caught off guard with your determination. He audibly sighs. “Very well, my love.”

The tension never dies, only rising each time Taehyung turns around and shakes his head after scouring each person and the line of men is getting shorter and shorter. Jimin begins to feel the strained air flourish like spring flowers, each heartbeat drumming against his ear and swelling his throat up. He clutches onto his arm, feeling the pain throb through his entire body.

“There’s none.” Taehyung pipes up after the last man is let go, scrambling for his abandoned clothes on the floor.

“Impossible.”

“Could it have been the group you were dealing with? Maybe it was all a trick.” You tip your head to the side, blinking with big eyes.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No. They were caught off guard too.” Jimin feels a chill run up his spine and he lifts his head to find Taehyung staring straight at him. “Did you check everyone?”

“Everyone…” Taehyung answers, still not looking away. “....everyone except for one person.”

Jungkook follows his line of vision to Jimin and scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He deadpans, glancing at his sworn brother before narrowing his eyes at Taehyung. “How dare you accuse him.”

“Then there’s no problem if we check.” Taehyung challenges.

Jungkook steps forward, ignoring ache in his shoulder and how it begins to bleed again. Jimin stops him, clutching Jungkook’s arm. “Fine. Check me.”

Taehyung smirks and the two other men surround Jimin but he presses his hand out for them to halt. Jimin stares into his best friend’s orbs, his eyes carrying a glint and he softly whispers-

“You need to trust me.”

Jimin rolls up his sleeve and holds his breath; everyone’s eyes on him and the dead air is enough for the Grim Reaper to come waltzing in. Jungkook’s eyes harden and he stumbles on his feet, nearly tripping backwards into you as the wind knocks out of his lungs. He reaches out and clutches Jimin’s arm roughly, making the latter man wince in pain. “No...no..you...”

“Y-Y-...ou need…. to…..” Jimin cannot pry or struggle against Jungkook’s grip that is stronger than handcuffs, tighter than the hold of a man dangling off a cliff. Jungkook’s nails dig into his skin, eyes shaking and trembling. “....trust me.”

“You….betrayed me.”

Each time one would forsake or break the bond of trust with another, a mark will be seared into their skin. It is a mark that the eighth demon, the eighth forgotten sin bears the concession to burn into bodies, a spiteful reminder for eternity. Some have many, others have a few but Park Jimin who carries the trait of loyalty more than any other is thought to have none.

But in front of everyone’s eyes, straight on his forearm is an ebony seal imprinted into his skin. The surrounding area is scorching in the shade of vermillion. The creased indentation is searing, an inkling of the short time that has passed since fate had pressed it on.

A mark of betrayal.

“You betrayed me.”

“Bye Jungkook.”

“Bye.” He waves with a huge grin before disappearing.

He wonders if they’ve ever seen light.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

Jimin fills the distance between the both of you in two strides. His arm outstretches and his hand reaches out to placidly touch your waist. In your skipped heartbeat, he presses his soft lips to yours, plush and carrying the taste of what you think flowers would be like on your tongue. It’s a million miles more gentle than the lips that have been on yours countless times before. Maybe it’s out of reflex but you quickly return the action. Maybe it’s out of reflex. Maybe it’s something more.

Jimin kisses you, cherishing each and every second like it’s the last or you’re precious glass between his hands, ready to shatter and vanish. But he kisses you with determination, vigorously in relief as if he’s longed for it since the beginning - a time before you became Jungkook’s but too late for Jimin to blurt out the love he feels for you.

As he pulls away and faces you, for a mere moment he swears he sees a flicker of something in your eyes. “You betrayed him.”

Your orbs fall into his forearm, already reddened with the mark that will soon seethe and melt into his skin. He shakes his head, his hand from your waist and the other cupping your cheek gently falls to his side. “I’m sorry…” Jimin steps back as if disgusted with his own actions. How could he have let his desires get the better of him? “I shouldn’t have done that.”

When he turns to walk out the door with his head downcast, you grab onto his wrist. He immediately halts his feet like you’re cold chains in a utopia he wishes he could stay in.

“Jimin…” He turns to you as you call out.

“Can you say my name one more time?” He murmurs in a plea, gazing at you. “Just…once more…”

“Jimin….” You whisper out his name, tugging him back. “...you shouldn’t go tonight.”

The only response he gifts you is a soft smile that crinkles his eyes and you let him go.

The layer of his skin had sizzled and bubbled, sweltering red as he collapsed to the ground. Jimin could hear the crooked laughter of the demon who for once could rise above and meet the lowly humans who had forgotten him. The eighth sin had the most pleasure pressing his seal and marking the clear man’s skin with his emblem, hot wax of obsidian. It burnt hotter than the fires of hell and Jimin thought he would fall into death’s embrace; how his world swirled and he could see the face of his best friend and you flash in front of his eyes. The pain shot deeper than his bones, plumbing into his soul. But then cruelty allowed Jimin to open his eyes and he was greeted with the corrupt, awry momento indented into his skin.

Stars, the symbol that was chosen. A cluster of black stars as the mark of betrayal was dug deep into Jimin’s arm - a symbol of ambition and dreams, belonging to his best friend. And now his best friend was standing right in front of him with spite and hurt in his eyes. The pain of the mark could be subdued by the pain that was brought by the way his friend was looking at him.

“How could you?”

“Jungkook….if you listen to me-” Jimin grunts in agony as Taehyung kicks his knees down to bow before the leader, yet he doesn’t look away. “-I didn’t send anyone to hurt you. Why would I want that?”

Jimin swallows hard, barely choking out his words. “Why would I hurt you?”

The memories between the two manifests itself, images flashing by in the background like an old movie tape captured by camcorder. They’re thrown into a hallucination, recalling the times where they’ve been nearly beaten to death, lying on the concrete as the blood ran through the stones and the purple bruises swelled their faces beyond recognition. The two had laughed together during that time, staring up at the night sky with a rush of invincibility; death had not called them. In the reminiscences, Jimin shielding his friend’s back as a cold knife pierced through his stomach displays itself and the times where Jungkook took bullet shots for the other man appears.

Jimin is plunged into nostalgia, his eyes softening. “Why….why would I hurt you?”

But Jungkook’s eyes remain stone cold and hard, merciless like the other is no more than a stranger. “Shut your mouth. Someone….” There is no choice and no hesitation. There are no exceptions to any rules and what is done to one must be done to the other, regardless of the past. Justice is not mercy. “Someone….give me a gun.”

“Jungkook.” Jimin begs, his knees pushing deeper into the ground as Taehyung holds his shoulder down. He winces as the pain from the mark of betrayal still lingers, needles seeping into his skin. Another man takes the weapon hidden behind his jacket and hands it to the head.

Jungkook wastes no time in cocking the gun back and his eyes don’t shake, choosing to shield away the emotions that threaten his position, known for being ruthless and unsparing.

In the last moments before his death, Jimin chooses to look at you. He gazes into your blank eyes that’s watching coldly above him and a tiny smile appears on his lips. For a moment, he swears that he’s caught a glint of something in your eye-

Bang!

You yelp in surprise, digging your face into Jungkook’s clothes as he lowers the gun, his finger still on the trigger. You can feel his arm shaking as he continues to stare at the bloodbath of his sworn brother, his best friend and closest thing he’s ever had to family. But there is nothing but silence.

Jungkook turns around after a long moment and you return to his embrace, wrapping your arms around his body. He hugs you close without speaking and he never realizes how dead your voice is as you peek out at the body that was once Jimin. “I’m so glad you’re alive, Jungkook.”

“-that you’re alive…” Your voice shakes in the perfect way that you’ve mastered. He pats your back as if you’re frightened. “I am so….happy.”

Little did anyone know, the mark of betrayal that Jungkook was looking for, a cluster of black stars is burning right in the palm of your hand.

Another one imprints itself on your wrist in Jimin’s name.

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #jimin scenario #jungkook fanfic #jimin fanfic #jungkook angst #jimin angst #OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #DAMN

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courtneytincher · 5 years

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Tokyo Wins World War II?: What If Japan Never Attacked at Pearl Harbor?

It doesn’t take too much imagination to postulate alternative strategies for Imperial Japan. Indeed, eminent Japanese have themselves postulated alternatives. My favorite: the high naval command should have stuck to its pre-1941 playbook. The Pearl Harbor carrier raid was a latecomer to Japanese naval strategy, and it was the handiwork of one man, Adm. Isoroku Yamamoto. Had Yamamoto declined to press the case for a Hawaiian strike, or had the high command rebuffed his entreaties, the Imperial Japanese Navy would have executed its longstanding strategy of “interceptive operations.”Suppose Robert E. Lee had laid hands on a shipment of AK-47s in 1864. How would American history have unfolded? Differently than it did, one imagines.Historians frown on alt-history, and oftentimes for good reason. Change too many variables, and you veer speedily into fiction. The chain connecting cause to effect gets too diffuse to trace, and history loses all power to instruct. Change a major variable, especially in a fanciful way—for instance, positing that machine-gun-toting Confederates took the field against Ulysses S. Grant’s army at the Battle of the Wilderness—and the same fate befalls you. Good storytelling may teach little.What if Japan had never attacked Pearl Harbor? Now that’s a question we can take on without running afoul of historical scruples. As long as we refrain from inserting nuclear-powered aircraft carriers sporting Tomcat fighters into our deliberations, at any rate.RECOMMENDED: How D-Day Could Have Been a Disaster When studying strategy, we commonly undertake a self-disciplined form of alt-history. Indeed, our courses in Newport and kindred educational institutes revolve around it. That’s how we learn from historical figures and events. Military sage Carl von Clausewitz recommends—nay, demands—that students of strategy take this approach. Rigor, not whimsy, is the standard that guides ventures in Clausewitzian “critical analysis.” Strategists critique the course of action a commander followed while proposing alternatives that may have better advanced operational and strategic goals.Debating strategy and operations in hindsight is how we form the habit of thinking critically about present-day enterprises. Critical analysis, maintains Clausewitz, is “not just an evaluation of the means actually employed, but of all possible means—which first have to be formulated, that is, invented. One can, after all, not condemn a method without being able to suggest a better alternative.” The Prussian sage, then, scorns Monday-morning quarterbacking.RECOMMENDED: How Japan Could Have Won World War II That demands intellectual self-discipline. “If the critic wishes to distribute praise or blame,” concludes Clausewitz, “he must certainly try to put himself exactly in the position of the commander; in other words, he must assemble everything the commander knew and all the motives that affected his decision, and ignore all that he could not or did not know, especially the outcome.” Critics know how a course of action worked out in retrospect. They must restrict themselves to what a commander actually knew in order to project some realistic alternative.RECOMMENDED: Could Russia Have Won the Cold War? It doesn’t take too much imagination to postulate alternative strategies for Imperial Japan. Indeed, eminent Japanese have themselves postulated alternatives. My favorite: the high naval command should have stuck to its pre-1941 playbook. The Pearl Harbor carrier raid was a latecomer to Japanese naval strategy, and it was the handiwork of one man, Adm. Isoroku Yamamoto. Had Yamamoto declined to press the case for a Hawaiian strike, or had the high command rebuffed his entreaties, the Imperial Japanese Navy would have executed its longstanding strategy of “interceptive operations.”In other words, it would have evicted U.S. forces from the Philippine Islands, seized Pacific islands and built airfields there, and employed air and submarine attacks to cut the U.S. Pacific Fleet down to size on its westward voyage to the Philippines’ relief. Interceptive operations would have culminated in a fleet battle somewhere in the Western Pacific. Japan would have stood a better chance of success had it done so. Its navy still would have struck American territory to open the war, but it would have done so in far less provocative fashion. In all likelihood, the American reaction would have proved more muted—and more manageable for Japan.The Hollywood version of Yamamoto puts the result of Pearl Harbor well, prophesying in Tora! Tora! Tora! that “we have awakened a sleeping giant and filled him with a terrible resolve.” That’s a rich—and rather Clausewitzian—way of putting it. Clausewitz defines a combatant’s strength as a product of capability and willpower. Yamamoto alludes to the United States’ vast industrial and natural resources, depicting America as a giant in waiting. He also foretells that the strike on Battleship Row will enrage that giant—goading him into mobilizing those resources in bulk to smite Japan.Assaulting the Philippines may have awakened the sleeping giant—but it’s doubtful it would have left him in such a merciless mood. He would have been groggy. Here’s Clausewitz again: the “value of the political object” governs the “magnitude” and “duration” of the effort a belligerent mounts to obtain that political object. How much a belligerent wants its political goals, that is, dictates how many resources—lives, national treasure, military hardware—it invests in an endeavor, and how long it sustains the investment.It pays a heavy price for goals it covets dearly. Lesser goals warrant lesser expenditures.The Philippine Islands constituted a lesser goal. The archipelago constituted American territory, having been annexed in the aftermath of the Spanish-American War of 1898. But the islands also lay on the far side of the Pacific Ocean, thousands of miles from American shores. And they had been absent from daily headlines since the days when imperialists like Theodore Roosevelt wrangled publicly with anti-imperialists like Mark Twain about the wisdom of annexation. Americans reportedly had to consult their atlases on December 7 to find out where Pearl Harbor was located. The Philippines barely registered in the popular consciousness—full stop.Regaining the Philippines, then, would have represented a political object commanding mediocre value at best—especially when full-blown war raged in Europe and adjoining waters, beckoning to an America that had been Eurocentric since its founding. Chances are that the U.S. effort in the Pacific would have remained wholly defensive. The U.S. leadership would have concentrated resources and martial energy in the Atlantic theater—keeping its prewar promise to allied leaders in deed as well as in spirit.Bypassing the Hawaiian Islands, in short, would have spared Japan a world of hurt—as Admiral Yamamoto foresaw. Forbearance would have granted Tokyo time to consolidate its gains in the Western Pacific, and perhaps empowered Japan’s navy and army to hold those gains against the tepid, belated U.S. counteroffensive that was likely to come.Now, let’s give Yamamoto his due as a maritime strategist. His strategy was neither reckless nor stupid. Japanese mariners were avid readers of the works of Alfred Thayer Mahan, and going after the enemy fleet represents sound Mahanian doctrine. Crush the enemy fleet and you win “command of the sea.” Win maritime command and contested real estate dangles on the vine for you to pluck afterward.And indeed, the Mahanian approach did pay off for the Imperial Japanese Navy—for a time. Japanese warriors ran wild for six months after Pearl Harbor, scooping up conquest after conquest. But a vengeful giant can regenerate strength given adequate time. As Yamamoto himself predicted, Japan could entertain “no expectation of success” if the war dragged on longer than six months or a year.Doing less—or forswearing an effort entirely—always constitutes a viable strategic option. Doing nothing was an option Japan should have exercised rather than assail Pearl Harbor. That’s the lesson from alt-history.James Holmes is Professor of Strategy at the Naval War College and coauthor of Red Star over the Pacific (second edition forthcoming 2018). The views voiced here are his alone.Image: Wikimedia Commons.(This article was first published in 2017 and is being republished due to reader interest.)Recommended: The F-22 Is Getting a New Job: SniperWhy North Korea's Air Force is Total Junk Why Doesn't America Kill Kim Jong Un?

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melba-silver-posts-blog · 6 years

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Escape OLD TIME RADIO A shipment Of Mute Fate

#OldTimeRadio SciFi Horror Drama Comedy Escape

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ramialkarmi · 6 years

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The technology industry's lull is giving us a chance to consider its impact on society — while we still can (AAPL, MSFT, GOOGL, FB)

It is a time of great tech stagnation, in part due to the scandals that have rocked Silicon Valley over the last year.

Part of the stagnation, too, is that current technology is stalling out, and the next wave just isn't ready yet.

After a decade-plus of the tech industry causing near-constant disruption and turmoil, the lull is offering the world a much-needed break to consider how technology is affecting society and to try to figure out what to do about it.

Apple's WWDC developer conference this week marked the conclusion of the period each year when some of the biggest technology companies lay out their agendas for the future of their platforms.

Compared with past years, the message from Silicon Valley was far more muted this time around. Last year, for example, Facebook, Google, Microsoft, and Apple were all focused on the next big things in technology, each in its own way laying the foundation for the inevitable death of the smartphone.

This year, by contrast, the companies focused on important but decidedly less flashy topics including security, privacy, and their responsibility to their users and society.

There are a variety of reasons for the tech giants' reduced ambition. Facebook, Google, and Apple each spent much of the last 12 months in various states of crisis and are now trying to patch things up. Growth in the markets for the technology products that led to the rise of the current behemoths is slowing down to a crawl. And the next generation of technology gadgets and services isn't ready for prime time yet.

That may sound depressing and disappointing. After all, much of the excitement surrounding the tech industry stems from the bold visions of the future it often offers. But from where I'm standing, this lull is a good thing for the industry and the world.

Technologies under development right now could lead to some potentially terrifying changes. This boring period in the industry gives us the time and the attention to hold the tough conversations we need to have about where the industry and society are heading.

It's clear from the past year's scandals in the industry that those conversations are overdue. Because there's growing concern about the tech industry's role in society.

Facebook was caught up in the Cambridge Analytica scandal, where as many as 87 million people had their data used improperly, and faced continuing fallout over its role in distributing Russian propaganda during the 2016 election. Google and its YouTube service saw criticism over their role in spreading hoaxes and conspiracy theories. And Apple dealt with a storm of criticism over Batterygate, its belated admission that it slowed down some iPhones with older batteries without informing users.

The future is slowing down

This concern is coming amid a transition time for the industry.

The first few slides of Kleiner Perkins investor Mary Meeker's newest State of the Internet report tell you everything you need to know, which is that overall, the growth in many of the most important tech products and services is flat-lining. Global smartphone shipment growth? Almost precisely flat. Global internet user growth? Flattening out, with a relatively meager 12% year-over-year-growth.

Additionally, both the PC market and the tablet market are declining.

Oh, sure, there are some bright spots in tech. Meeker's report estimated that the installed base for the Amazon Echo line of smart speakers hit 30 million users by the end of 2017. Other technologies, including streaming video, smartwatches, and cryptocurrencies, are also growing in fits and starts.

But as big a number as it is, 30 million Echo users is a drop in the bucket when you compare it to the more than a billion devices in use running Apple's iOS software, and the more than two billion gadgets in use that run Google's Android.

Likewise, the total value of all the bitcoin in circulation — about $131 billion — sounds like a lot. But it's still less than a tenth of the US dollars in circulation in the form of coins and paper bills. And its less than one one-hundredth of the M2 money stock, a measurement of the amount US dollars in use that includes those held in savings accounts and mutual funds as well as in the form of travelers checks and checking accounts.

That's not to say that some of these newer technologies will never replace the old. It's just that right now, even though many of the older technologies are seeing stagnating sales or use, the Next Big Things aren't close to displacing them.

In other words, things are changing super slowly, and what we have now is roughly what we'll continue to have for a while to come.

What's next isn't ready

We've already gotten glimpses at what the next wave of technology will bring.

Many companies are focused on technologies that will immerse us in digital images. Facebook has bet big on virtual reality. It's already been selling its Oculus Rift VR headset and is promising big things for the next iterations of it. Microsoft, which is betting on both virtual and augmented reality, is already offering its HoloLens AR smart goggles. Google and Apple are both working hard to incorporate AR features into their smartphones.

At the same time, many tech companies are investing heavily in artificial intelligence and in trying to bring AI to consumers. Amazon and Google, in particular, have been going toe-to-toe with Alexa and Assistant, their respective smart voice assistants.

The problem is that so much of this forward-looking stuff just isn't that useful yet.

Oh, I have no doubt that Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg is right that by 2027 or so we'll have smart glasses that are as thin and light as a pair of normal sunglasses. And I'd bet that Amazon will one day succeed in its quest to turn Alexa into the superintelligent supercomputer from "Star Trek."

But back here in 2018, those cutting-edge technologies are still lacking.

Using augmented reality on a smartphone means waving your phone around and looking silly. Trying to use AR via smart glasses means dealing with some significant technical limitations — and looking even sillier.

Alexa and Assistant can be helpful at times, but they're not nearly as all-around useful as a smartphone or a computer.

Cryptocurrencies come with too many complications and too much overhead to be truly useful as a replacement for regular money.

And despite all of its own investment in AI, Facebook is staffing up with thousands of humans because artificial intelligence isn't nearly as good at detecting hate speech as good, old-fashioned people.

All of that stuff will probably get fixed one day. But right now, the result is that our older technologies are growing stagnant and our newer technologies aren't ready to replace them.

The scandals are good

Ultimately, though, this stagnation may prove to be beneficial. This slowdown in the tech industry has given the world a chance to take a breath. And we're already using that lull to consider the roll of tech in our lives.

The string of scandals at Facebook and Google were unequivocally bad, with user privacy and perhaps the fate of democracy itself put at risk by decisions made by those tech titans. But they've triggered real and important conversations about the role of these major technology companies in our lives. Even the companies themselves seem to agree that it's time for the broader society to play an active role in shaping how technology affects our country and the world, potentially even through government regulations.

And with folks inside and outside the industry raising alarms about how our devices and apps are affecting us at a personal level — encouraging addiction-like behavior and even leading to depression among teens — there's growing discussion about "digital health." Companies including Google, Facebook, and Apple are starting to respond, giving us ways to measure and limit the time we spend with our various gadgets and services.

This is an opportune time to have those conversations. Because the next generation of tech devices and services could be even more dangerous.

When the smartphone dies and augmented reality devices replace it and we're all wearing our Apple AirPods all the time, the technology companies will have unprecedented access to our brains. When you wear a pair of Facebook's — or Apple's or Google's — smart goggles, you're going to be letting the company behind them determine what you see and hear. The company and the other tech giants will, in a very literal way, be controlling your perception of reality.

Now is the time to think through the implications of that control — and what could go wrong.

I'm hopeful. Now that we've started talking about how to fix our relationship with technology, I don't think we're going to stop the discussion anytime soon.

That's a good thing — as long as we all get on the same page before the next generation of tech is finally ready.

SEE ALSO: Apple's amazing AirPods are taking a baby step towards their full potential

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