CRIMINAL // minsung

chapter 8

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"Morning," Seungmin said entering the lab.

"Morning." Felix replied not lifting his eyes off of his laptop.

"What's up?" Seungmin asked yawning, taking off his jacket.

"Neo found a seller." Felix said.
"Have you seen Han?"

"No, I just came here. Haven't you?"

"No. Apparently he already has the address to the shop."

"What about Chan?"

As if he had heard them calling, Chan suddenly entered the room.

"Morning," He said it to everyone, but his eyes were on Felix, who finally looked up hearing the warm voice.

"Good morning. Have you heard from Han? He should be here already."

"No, but he seemed pretty tired yesterday. The failed mission really took a toll on him, I wouldn't be surprised if he's staying home for today." Chan said almost overly casual.

"Um, well I would. This is important, and he's the project leader. We have places to go and things to do today. He can't just stay home because he's tired." Seungmin was tense.

"Calm down, Min. Chan knows Han well, maybe he really needs this day off. We can do this without him."

Seungmin rolled his eyes. To him Felix was clearly on Chan's side, and it had nothing to do with his opinion on the subject.

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The first thing Han felt slowly returning into consciousness was pressure on his wrists, that he noticed to be tied up above his head.

He tried to flutter his eyes open, but they were covered with fabric. Since he was deprived of his eyesight, he tried to activate the rest of his senses.
He was someplace indoors, and it smelled a little musty. Another piece of fabric was tied around his head as well, gagging him and keeping his mouth open. His arms were aching and he was in a highly uncomfortable position, leaning forward weighing on his hands that were tied above his head like he realized earlier. Something felt cold against the skin of his wrists, so he figured they'd used a chain to tie him up, strong enough to hold him.

Well, not that it would really require particularly strong chains, Han was pretty lightweight.

He was snatched from his thoughts by the tiniest sound, something hitting the floor right in front of him.
A shoe.

"Morning, detective."

The husky voice was so close Han almost jumped.

He felt something cold press on his cheek, and then tug the blindfold away.
Unlike Han had expected, he wasn't blinded by any lights when he opened his eyes. The space was very dim, but that didn't stop Han from seeing Minho standing right in front of him with a sharp blade in his hand.

Han was still wearing his black police uniform, minus the bullet vest. Minho looked at him up and down and smiled to himself.

Then the sound of fabric getting ripped apart filled the room.
Minho took his knife to Han's throat, placed it behind the collar of his shirt and dragged it down with force. He cut Han's shirt in half like this and moved the pieces aside so the shirt was only covering Han's arms and his back.

This caught Han by surprise, and it was so sudden it took a second for Han to hide his astonishment. He let out a little muffled sound from behind the gag.
Then he felt the cold air hit his chest and send shivers throughout his body,  suddenly realizing how cold it actually was in that room.

Minho stared shamelessly for a second.

Then he came closer, too close. Making eye contact. He stopped inches away from Han's face, observing him.

"You think you're so though, huh?"
Minho was desperate to see more of the reaction he'd finally noticed on Han's face just now while tearing his shirt apart.

He slowly took the saliva soaked gag out of Han's mouth, tilting his head looking at him.

Then he pressed the side of the cold knife in his hand against Han's right nipple.

Han accidentally gasped at the cold on his sensitive skin. He then tried to shut himself up by biting his lip.
Which did not help.

Minho smiled, glad about his achievement.

Han on the other hand was not so glad. Although the sensation wouldn't necessarily have been bad in some other situation, this was definitely terrible. He tried to pull away, fighting back in the chains, his legs tied too.

Minho laughed.

"Now. I would hate to ruin all this,"
Minho gestured towards Han's body.
"So don't be too stubborn.
Unless you like pain."
Minho mumbled his last sentence.
"So, wh-"

"Why am I here?" Han spoke through his teeth, interrupting Minho with his scratchy, unused voice.

"...Because, detective, you were going to try to put me behind bars, weren't you?" Minho questioned.

Han breathed in.

"...And I can't let you do that."

"Why am I not dead then?" Han went on.

"Oh..," Minho shook his head. "I'm going to have so much fun with you."

Minho looked at his knife.
"Just to test the waters a little bit," He thought.

Then he quickly swinged his hand, letting the blade cut through the surface of Han's skin on his right side.

Han closed his eyes as the jarring pain made them water. It hurt, but it wasn't unbearable.

Minho let out a little contemplative hum, finally stepping away.

Then he started walking towards the exit, turning his back on Han.

Minho had gotten an idea while staring at Han's face, stained with a police officer's authority and arrogance. He wanted to break him. Push through that barrier and find someone who enjoys watching people die as much a he does himself.

Although Han was a trained professional, the situation was starting to take it's toll on him. Blood dripped down his side as he yelled, his voice breaking.

"WHY AM I NOT DEAD?"

Minho pulled on the chains in the corner of the room near the exit. They were the same ones holding Han up, and when he tugged on them, they loosened, making Han drop to the cold floor with a heavy thump.

Then he left the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Han alone in the cold, damp basement.

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