FRAGMENTED - Fragment 4, part 1
Title: Fragmented
Author: gildeddiscourse
Beta: callmeliyah
Rating: Strong R
Genre: Action, Horror, Suspense, Drama, Angst, Thriller
Summery: 2006 was a hard year, rocky, strained; mottled with obstacles and too many pains to count. As 2007 approaches, promising a horizon of new possibilities and kinder times, Dong Bang Shin Ki happily immerse themselves in the upcoming release of their latest Japanese single; eagerly praying for a successful year free of pain and hardship. However, when one of their members suddenly turns up missing, their hopes are swiftly shattered. The five boys are immediately thrust into a cruel reality far more harsh and twisted then the evil in the depths of their darkest nightmares. An unknown man with an ugly agenda destroys their world and possibly their lives as they are forced to play with the very strings of life and death to save someone they love.
How far would you be willing to go to save the life of your friend, your brother? Would you be willing to sacrifice blood? Flesh? How about your very soul? The boys of Dong Bang Shin Ki will quickly discover just how far a human can be pushed all for the sake of love...
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This work is a piece of fiction only. I make no claims to know or own anyone there in mentioned. (Save of course for the occasional original character) I am making no profit from this; it is strictly for entertainment purposes only. The boys are property of themselves and each other. The plot/interpretation however is mine.
Previous Fragments :
Trailer, Part 1A, Part 1B, Part 2, Part 3A, Part 3B
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“Fragmented”
Fourth Fragment : “Not Your Average Whipping Boy”
Truth is dying, this world is full of lies
Now it's time to face reality.
There's too much sadness in this world
Things don't always happen the way you want them to
Whenever freedom is at risk, lend me your strength.
- “Free Your Mind” By DBSK
- Saturday, January 13th 2007
- 1:39 pm
At first, they had attempted to keep going.
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday... Saturday even. They as one, continued as normally as they could possibly manage under the circumstances.
They had attended several costume fittings in preparation for their upcoming concerts. They participated in solo and band photo shoots as scheduled for both their second Japanese and second Asia tour. They had even gone so far as to make an appearance on an early morning radio show Friday morning, with strict orders not to mention their missing member. Man-Young at the time had smiled and passed off the absence of the lead vocalist as a personal issue only, nothing to be concerned about… how wrong that had been.
When the real news of Jaejoong’s whereabouts first hit, they had been understandably scattered; uncertain and confused. But upon receiving the orders to soldier on, like nothing was wrong, they had recollected themselves and stood as one; in defiance. Initially, they had rebelled against the strict schedule the company urged them to keep.
It all had a bad air of déjà vu to him, with a queer underlying feeling of hidden horror. It felt like their ‘Rising Sun’ days all over again. When Jaejoong had been seriously injured, packed into the van and wheeled on stage some handful of hours after surgery, denied pain medication for fear it would affect his voice, and then ordered in no uncertain terms to perform as if everything was normal. His blood boiled as he recalled the companies’ firm denial of their right to even publicly express their concern for their injured member.
In retrospect, the situation felt very similar…
Except this time, Jaejoong was not just seriously injured, yet safe at their sides. No, this time, he was seriously injured while being held captive by some mad man, his life was in very real danger, and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing any of them could do about it.
As sickening as the thought was, at that moment, he’d give anything to go back in time, back to those agonizing months of watching Jaejoong force himself to recover without ever being given the time to properly heal. He’d give anything, even if it meant the boy having to go through that horrible pain again, just to escape the horror they were now trapped in.
Yoochun sighed, raking a hand through his mussed locks, feeling the remnants of clinging styling products he’d yet to wash away; but at the moment, he couldn’t find the energy to care enough to drag himself into a shower.
Yes, initially, they had rebelled against the idea of working; of pressing on like good little robots that thought and felt nothing more then the corporate big wigs programmed them to feel. Midway through the morning, they’d finally won the right to stop. Surprisingly, it had been a steadfast Junsu whom had calmly spoken up and with a gentle tone convinced management to cancel the bands schedule for the time being. Thankfully, Avex Group was no SM Entertainment. They truly cared for the band; Tohoshinki was more to the Japanese label then just a meal ticket.
Looking back on the decision now, however, Yoochun couldn’t help but wonder if the choice had been made in error. There was little to fill their day between filming the reply video and dreading screening the next disgusting installment from their tormentor. As a group, they had little appetite, even Changmin, the avid food lover amongst them, had noticed a marked decrease in his capacity for nutritional intake. They had barely slept, which was to be expected, they were completely isolated, and they were, for all intents and purposes, kept at arms length with the entire investigation. There really was nothing to do to pass the time but worry and fret. And that, in and of itself, was not a very delightful prospect.
A faint irritating chirp rang off the walls of the quiet apartment and Yoochun glanced up from where he lay half draped across the surface of the kitchen table; blinking at the unfamiliar sound. Without having to search, his eyes found the source in the form of Detective Utatane’s cell phone. The man was currently situated in the living room deep in conversation with the leader and their manager, as well as several men in suits and uniforms he did not know. As the officer answered the small device, it redirected the baritones’ attention to the momentarily abandoned task he’d been absorbed in for the passed hour- mindlessly starring at the kitchen bar. Or, to be more accurate, the longing gaze he was gracing upon the neatly arranged cell phones dotting the countered surface.
Five little devices lay deactivated and lonely looking upon the tile: one for each member, as well as their managers’ personal cell. Man-Young had, of course, kept his work phone handy.
They had been taken from them almost immediately. As soon as the news of Jaejoong’s predicament broke across the country the little contraptions had gone haywire dancing and singing in a nonstop flood of incoming calls, new voicemails and text messages at an insane rate that would have made even the text savvy lead vocalist envious. They had been advised to leave them alone for the time being, under the guise of preserving their mental health from the strain of having to deal with all the questions and sorrow. And while he understood the reason, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a wise decision.
What if Jaejoong somehow managed to escape and attempted to call for help? Ok, so that may seem a little too optimistic, but he’d learned years ago not to underestimate their lead singer. Besides, what was wrong with being optimistic? It felt so much better then allowing pain, and fear, and doubt to crush you.
A rustling from the living room caught his attention, and Yoochun glanced up again sitting back in his chair. Detective Utatane seemed deeply immersed in a heated conversation with whomever had called him. The man shifted, a curious expression on his face before he climbed to his feet and quickly slipped out the front door to converse in private. The baritone cocked his head, glancing back at the abandoned cluster of men still seated in the sitting area and felt somewhat relieved that no one seemed concerned by the officers’ quick departure. Casting a curious look at their manager, Yoochun’s eyes shifted back to his cell phone and without further thought he slipped out of his chair. Silently, he retrieved the tiny device and returned to his seat; turning the phone on.
The process took longer then normal, and he wasn’t entirely surprised. As the screen finally loaded, the little device shook and danced in his hand flashing message after message. He clicked through the few prompts, reading the characters quickly. Voicemail full, Inbox full, even his mobile email was full. Shaking his head, Yoochun quickly closed the messages, deciding to heed their managers’ advice a while longer and leave the questions and concerns for later. Instead, he pulled up his image folder, quietly flipping through the frozen memories to distract his mind.
“How are you doing?” A familiar voice asked softly as a warm hand fell to rest on the baritones shoulder. Yoochun glanced up into the concerned but friendly face of his band leader, mulling over his reply as his eyes again fell to the cell phone cradled in his hands. He flipped idly through the pictures saved on the tiny device, a faint fond smile curling the corners of his lips as he stumbled upon an image of the two eldest of their band and little Junsu dressed in rather garish holiday wear making some adorably priceless faces at the camera.
“I miss his face.” The former American replied, a thumb tracing the digital curve of the missing members jaw gently before he turned the phone offering a clear view of the image to the tall dancer. Yunho gazed at the familiar picture, taken just a month ago, a faint curve gracing the deep set edges of his own mouth at the amusing memory before he slipped into the vacant seat next to the blond.
“I do too.” He admitted, tapping Yoochun’s thumb with his own and scrolled to the next image.
“It’s weird, you know?… I never really realized how much it meant before. But after four years of seeing each other every day, and now, not... It just feels odd.” Yoochun mumbled, gazing at the image without really seeing it before he shook his head and clicked over to the next with the tap of a button.
“Yeah.” Yunho nodded softly, giving the younger boys shoulder an understanding squeeze before he folded his arms across the table and returned his attention to the small device.
The baritone couldn’t seem to suppress the grin that crested his lips as his gaze fell across the image momentarily distracted from their current dilemma by the fond memories forever captured in pixels. The leader blinked and cocked his head rather queerly as he attempted to decipher just what exactly the image was of. “Have you seen this one hyung?” Yoochun queried holding the cell phone up for the older boy to examine.
“What… is it?” Yunho replied, tilting his head left and right nearly going cross-eyed as he gazed, before, with sudden clarity, he realized there was a face beneath all the strange black marks dotting the screen.
“Junsu-ah fell asleep in the car on the way back from the airport last summer. Jaejoong-hyung and Changmin-ah took advantage of it. He never even twitched.” The former American explained in an awed tone followed by a soft fond chuckle. Yunho blinked somewhat surprised by the sound, but it lightened his heart to hear. Leaning closer, he scrutinized the image before he smirked and shook his head with an amused snort. “He didn’t even realize it when we got home either. He almost went to bed with that ink all over his face.” Yoochun grinned, tilting the image as he read some of the random characters dotting the young mood makers features.
“I believe it.” Yunho retorted, shaking his head. “You know, they did that to you too once. But it wasn’t with ink.” The leader admitted with a knowing spark glinting in his gaze. Yoochun blinked owlishly as he glanced up from the picture casting a disbelieving look at the brunette.
“What? That’s impossible. I don’t remember that.” He countered, shaking his head in denial. Yunho nodded, leaning back in his chair lowering an arm to drape over the head support.
“They did. Though, it was Junsu and Changmin. They conned a staff member out of a tube of lip stick; your face was bright orange for about two hours.” He stressed with a small grin, raising a hand to motion over the surface of his skin to explain just how bad the damage had been. “Jaejoong caught them in the act, and cleaned you up before you woke up. After taking pictures of course.” Yunho teased, the faint haze of memory darkening his eyes as his mind flew back to an earlier time when they were freer and not so over worked. Yoochun stared at the man in disbelief.
“When was this?”
“When we were filming Tri-angle. Jaejoongie still has the pictures somewhere.” Yunho replied with a shrug, brushing the hair from his eyes “That’s the danger of being a heavy sleeper with those kids around.”
“Too true.” Yoochun nodded with a smile before shrugging it off, flipping to the next image. “Well, at least I look good in orange.” He grinned, scanning through a miniature collage of random body parts before stopping at the next group shot.
The front door suddenly sprang open and the missing detective quickly made his way back to the waiting group of Japanese officials littering their living room. Yunho swiveled in his seat, his heel hooking on the rung of his chair as his gaze followed the man curious at the expression coloring the seasoned officers features. He seemed almost… hopeful.
“What? What is it?” Man-Young questioned as the detective circled the sofa and came to a stop next to the side table; seeming to have also caught the strange expression in the older man’s eyes. Utatane quickly retrieved his glasses and a small book from the wooden surface and tucked them away as he motioned for his men to gather their things. He turned to the Korean, face composed, years of service training him to school his emotions, and slipped a hand into his pocket fishing out his keys.
“We have a lead.” The Japanese detective stated simply.
Instantly nearly every man gathered was on their feet, including Yunho and Yoochun who hurried to join the group. “Are you serious? What lead?” Their manager quickly queried, rushing to stand. The detective nodded and ordered the cluster of bodies to follow him and turned to backtrack his steps to the door.
“A witness came forward, apparently. But, I won’t know the full details until I get to the station.” The Japanese officer explained, snatching his coat from the guest coat rack and slipped it on without much fuss, moving to hushedly exchange orders with two of his officers before turning to face the brunt of the curious throng. Man-Young’s eyes widened and he all but rushed to the closet, snatching the first jacket he encountered and practically threw it on.
“I’m coming with you.”
“We are too.” Yunho stated adamantly, suddenly drawing the gathered men’s attention as Yoochun at his side simply nodded. Utatane frowned, gazing at the boys before he shook his head.
“No. You, I can abide if I must.” He retorted, motioning somewhat reluctantly to Song, before turning to the two young singers. “But not you.” The detective commented, casting a stern glance at the young men and folded his arms. Several of his officers quietly excused themselves, heading out to ready the cars for the long trip to the police station.
“We have a right to know. We’re the closest thing he has to family in this country. If it concerns Jejung, we want to be there.” Yunho butted in firmly, glancing from the stubborn detective to their Manager and the Avex representative at his side. Both men bore rather unreadable expressions, and that did not bode well. “Please, he’s.. our brother.” The baritone continued, earning an agreeing nod from the band leader.
“I can understand that boys. But this is police business. Friends and even family are not privy to private investigation information. You will have to remain here.” Utatane steadfastly refused, and glanced at the two men flanking the door. With a quick nod the two officers parted, one taking up sentry at the entry way as the other disappeared further into the apartment; obviously they were being left to keep an eye on them.
“But-“
“No buts. I will be back as soon as possible. Stay here, and don’t cause any trouble.” And that was that.
With a quick nod and one last stern glance the detective, their manager and the Avex representatives marched out of the building.
Yunho sighed as the door shut, raking a hand through his hair and turned to glance at the shorter boy at his side. Yoochun’s eyes were lowered, studying an errant pattern trailing across the grain of the floor as his hands rose to tuck into his pant’s pockets. The leader shifted into the baritone, quietly wrapping an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. The former American glanced up at the contact, and a faint hint of hope lightened his chocolate orbs at the reassuring smile he received.
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- Saturday, January 13th 2007
- 2:07 pm
Nine…
The crack of snapping leather bit through the air, raw and tangible.
Another lash fell, slashing across bared skin like a hot brand. Jaejoong arched hard, chains rattling as his body strained to pull away from the agonizing beating.
Ten…
“Again.” The masked man ordered flatly, arms crossed as he watched the spectacle, conflicting emotions darkening his eyes. No sooner than it had been prompted the whip struck again, painting another stinging slash of red across an already abused pale strip of flesh.
Eleven…
Teeth bit into a bruised lip as Jaejoong physically restrained the sounds of agony attempting to escape into the stale air. Beads of sweat slithered down the paled flesh of strained features, pattering off a clenched jaw to fall like a rain of anguish to the bloodied stone work beneath his toes. Aching fingers twined in the eyelets of large metal links, hands clenching for dear life at the unforgiving chains suspending the tortured figure from the ceiling.
“Again.” Eien commanded once more, remorseless and droll as the sting of leather whipped through the air like a viper biting into flesh and bone. The unfeeling strip of cloth had long since cleaved through skin and drank long and deep of the crimson matter crisscrossing the exposed expanse of body.
Twelve…
A halo of red lay splashed across the tiled floor, each decent of the vicious weapon splattering more of the life giving matter in a macabre landscape of misery. Heated breath panted through the vocalists nostrils, heaving in and out faster then desperate lungs could follow in an attempt to distract the mind from the turmoil currently playing across his shoulder blades.
Thirteen…
The Japanese man’s lip curled in irritation beneath the hard lines of the false face he wore as the strap struck again, and once more the boy clenched his jaw refusing to cry out. That would not do. No, that would not do at all. With a curt hand, Eien signaled his man to halt his actions and the whip was obediently lowered.
The tiny reprieve swiftly leeched every ounce of tension from the restrained singers’ body and his form fell limp against the bonds lashed about his wrists; eagerly gulping down oxygen. Heels clicked on stone in curt strides as the Japanese man circled his captive, dark eyes scrutinizing the agonized figure like an insect collector examining a bug before pinning it to the wall. Rough gloved fingers rose to snatch dark locks, tilting the boys face with a hissed sneer and large doe eyes blinked drunkenly.
“What’s the matter boy, are you too stupid to scream?” Eien spat, peering into those inky orbs, pleased with the pain swirling in their depths.
Jaejoong’s lip curled angrily at his tormentor as he swiftly jerked away, straining on trembling toes to pull back from the unwanted attention. “Are you?” The Korean shot back, causing his captors head to cock rather queerly at the curious statement. Before the man could utter a reply, Jaejoong’s leg shot out with surprising accuracy and a swift heel slammed harshly into the flat of a muscular abdomen and the soft fleshy pillow of the groin below.
Eien howled in agony, stumbling back into the wall and crumpled over, a hand grasping at the offended junction of flesh.
“Little bastard!” Without warning, the whip sailed through the air again slicing into abused shoulders.
“Gyah!” Jaejoong could not withhold his outcry as the brand of leather slashed across his flesh in a merciless succession of three fresh lashes, cleaving brutally as punishment for his outburst. The singers’ svelte body arched hard, an agonized whimper slipping passed plump lips as large eyes clenched against the torment.
The Japanese ringleader swallowed hard, glaring darkly at the squirming boy and pushed from the wall stubbornly dropping the soothing touch cradling his wounded privates and damaged pride. “Stop.” He ordered as the guard behind the pained figure hefted the damp whip once again. The man quietly complied, eyes dark behind the cloth of his mask and obediently waited for his next order. Eien tugged at his shirt, straightening rumpled fabric before he slowly stalked towards his prey. Jaejoong swallowed as he nervously eyed the man, apprehension flitting behind wide orbs yet a contented smirk curled his lips. He knew his fighting did little more in the long run but cause himself more pain, yet the irritation his rebellion caused his tormentor was worth every extra blow he earned.
Eien stopped before the smaller boy, the deep lines encircling his half lidded eyes adding to the harsh and cruel appearance as he pinned the young man beneath the fire of his stare.
“You’ve got balls kid. I’ll give you that.” The man hissed, an ounce of amusement coloring his tone as a hand rose. Brutal fingers shot forward and snatched the small silver loop attached to the Korean’s nipple, assaulting the tiny piercing with a harsh tug. “But as amusing as it is watching you squirm, these little acts of defiance of yours are becoming rather annoying.” Eien ground between clenched teeth, slowly twisting the piercing firm and rough until the closure popped beneath the strain and threatened to rip taut flesh. Jaejoong flinched, eyes clenched against the pain assaulting such a sensitive area as pearly teeth lowered to capture his lip; biting back a moan of agony.
“You’ll learn your place sooner or later boy... I have every intention of beating it into you. The more you fight, the more it’ll hurt. And the more I’ll enjoy making you scream.”
Snarling, the cruel hand yanked hard as a knee rose sharply and without warning slammed into the restrained boys’ lower body. Blood splash across the dark man’s clothing as the metal ring ripped free tearing the tiny hole while a strangled scream rang off the concrete walls. Jaejoong curled against his bonds, gasping as waves of pain rippled through his assaulted flesh, bent as far as the chains would allow. The singers’ body trembled as toes slipped across damp stone falling into the embrace of the biting metal at his wrists, yet he could not find the strength to reaffirm his footing.
Eien watched the youth writhe with sadistic interest, before glancing at the tiny ring now threaded about his knuckle and the blood smearing the leather of his glove. Thumbing the substance, disgusted, the man reached forward wiping the remnants across the young vocalists heaving chest before tossing the stolen piercing to the floor with a rather deafening ping.
Fingers snatched that lowered chin, forcing the boys’ eyes to meet his own as he pressed closer; towering over the battered youth.
“Do you understand?” The Japanese man hissed, his grip tight enough to bruise. Jaejoong swallowed hard, lashes fluttering with the strain of remaining open when all he wanted to do was curl up against the pain and give in to the desire to pass out. He could not find the breath to reply, even if he had cared to do so and instead closed his eyes and simply pulled from the man’s touch.
This served to only further infuriate the masked madman. He swiftly stepped aside and cast a dark glance at the waiting henchman. “Break him.” He barked, and immediately that stalled whip rose again and slammed with renewed force into the poor singers’ body.
Sixteen…
Jaejoong’s form hung tense and curled, a whimper escaping as he quietly counted each blow; the pounding ache of agony slowly drowning his consciousness as he struggled against the tidal waves. His skin stung and itched as fresh, warm blood trickled across his hypersensitive flesh, driving him mad with the desire to wipe it away and trapped, unable to do so. He could do little more then bite his tongue and grasp at the hope that it would be over soon as another slash was painted across his back.
Seventeen…
Each decent of the whip struck fiercer and faster then the lash before it, fueled by obedience and anger at the young boys defiance. The camera watched, steadfast and unblinking, recording every hit, every wince, every splatter of blood on stone like a silent sentry unmoved by the carnage. Figures circled the room, backs ramrod straight, standing mute as ordered, and not a single eye turned a sympathetic glance to the boys suffering.
Eighteen…
The world began to grow fuzzy and warm as the next blow landed, the sting melting into a continuous burn that plagued the entirety of the vocalists back like a plain of lava; exposed and raw. It was too much. It was all too much.
He could not move, he could not breathe, he could not take it any more.
Nineteen…
As that lash fell, hard and cruel, a shuddering breath ghosted passed parted lips and Jaejoong fell limp against his bonds. Onyx eyes slipped closed as consciousness fled, a dark brow hidden by the curtain of soiled locks.
Eien blinked at his prisoners’ sudden complacency, and a frown curled his lips beneath his mask. The whip master paused, cocking his head curiously before casting a questioning look at his superior. The Japanese ringleaders gaze narrowed suspiciously, and with a commanding nod another blow fell; yet there was no response from its victim. “Tch.” The man scoffed, spitting through the mesh of his masks mouth piece as he stalked his way towards the unconscious Korean. “You can’t have passed out already.” He scoffed in derision, and moved before the lax figure studying the boys’ unmoving features.
Without warning a hand lashed out, backhanding the unsuspecting figure hard and fast. Jaejoong’s head snapped to the side before falling, once again, limp against his chest; not even an eyelid twitched.
The Japanese man eagerly watched for any hint of consciousness, and a bark of laughter rolled through the room as he found none.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Nineteen and you’re done?” Eien snorted, fingers curling roughly in dark locks as he tugged the singers head up. “You’re weaker then I thought.” He teased the unconscious boy before dropping the tresses and wiped his palm on his jeans. Motioning the waiting henchman with the raised whip away, Eien turned his attention to the forgotten camera amusement glittering in sharp eyes.
“Well that was a rather unsatisfying show, now wasn’t it?”
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Continue to part 2