A helicopter could be heard approaching the rooftop.
"Great," the man muttered. "Hey, get up." He tugged at Chanyeol's limp arm.
Chanyeol groaned in reply.
"Hey, Airhead! Wanna lend me a hand before the police get on our asses?" The tone in the man's voice changed drastically. One moment he was a lunatic; bursting through doors and throwing bodies across the rooftop, and the next moment, he seemed eager to help, as if he wasn't the one who damaged a door, Sehun's ribs, and Chanyeol's pride.
Sehun ignored the man. He still couldn't believe what he had done, he was still questioning if it was him who nearly threw the stranger off the roof. His hand was still stretched out in front of him, and it was trembling in fear.
"I would keep my hands down, if I were you," the man helped Chanyeol to sit up.
"Who even are you?" Sehun scoffed, bringing his hands at his side. "You come in here and try to knock us out, and now you're trying to help us escape?"
The man kept silent. "I'm just trying to help you, both of you, and me." The helicopter neared the building.
Sehun crossed his arms. "Help by doing what, nearly killing us?"
"Well, if you put it that way." The man sighed, and looked at Sehun sternly. "Listen, you're like me now. If they find you, you're gonna get locked up. Killed, maybe. Do you understand?"
"Okay, first; who exactly are oh calling a kid?" Sehun looked the man up and down. "And before we—before I—can trust you, at least tell me your name... it won't hurt anyone."
The man draped a large Chanyeol over his smaller shoulder. He began to head for the door as if nothing had happened.
"Kyungsoo," he replied, picking up Chanyeol's jacket before stepping back inside the building. "Don't leave any evidence behind, and especially don't do that thing again."
---
"O'Four," a man's voice wakes me up. I open my eyes slowly and find that I wasn't in the white room anymore. I was in the red room, which seemed familiar. I remember being in this room before, but how long aho was that?
How long was I unconscious?
The man over me was dressed in all white. He wore a white mask and looked me straight in the eye.
"You need to eat something, O'Four."
The funny thing was, even though I didn't eat anything for what seemed like a week, I didn't feel hungry at all.
"Open up," the man who I assumed was the doctor holds out one of the orange and yellow capsules. I kept my jaw clenched and my mouth shut. I made a promise to myself that under no circumstance would I insert the dupe candy corn into my mouth.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, O'Four. I won't ask you again; open up."
I bite down on my lip hard. A metallic taste enters my mouth and I think I just made my mouth bleed.
"Keep him down," the doctor orders others who are also clothed in white.
I decide to stay still and let the people hold me down. I will comply to everything they tell me, if it means I don't have to take their pills.
Until I see the syringe.
"Hey!" I try to keep calm but it's hard to stay still when someone's holding a needle over your face. "I'll take it," I say, completely ignoring the promise I made myself seconds before. "I'm hungry."
The doctor raises his hand, signaling for the others to release their grips. "You're an obedient one, O'Four. Say 'ah'."
I open my mouth and the doctor places the pill on my tongue.
How bad could it be?
Answer: bad.
The pill is cold on my tongue. It tastes grainy and bland. Suddenly, it begins to dissolve inside my mouth, causing foam to form at the corners of my mouth.
I never craved water so much in my entire life. I didn't eat or drink anything for the past few days, and this pill made it so much worse than before.
I try to remain still, which wasn't going to bar until foam starts to drip down my neck. I had no other groove but to swallow. I couldn't wipe the liquid from my neck because whoever rolled me into this red room has also strapped me down to the stretcher beneath me.
"Is that better?" The doctor asks, the syringe still in his hands. For some reason, his hands are shaking. Was he scared of me?
I shake my head no. Swallowing the pill just made me crave food even more, and I was doing just fine without it.
Also, shaking my head no was the wrong move.
The doctor orders the staff to hold me down again as he pushes the needle out of the syringe. A hand clamps around my arm and a cold metal object punctures deep into my arm. My vision starts to blur.
As I open my eyes again, I find myself back in the white room from before. I knew I had passed out from the traumatic experience of the doctor and his syringe. The feeling of its needle sinking into my skin made me shiver. I begin to question why the syringe was even necessary. Couldn't they have just swabbed my mouth with a cotton swab instead?
I look around the room. Everything was the same. Everything except the pile of pills from before were cleaned up, and there is a window on the left wall.
I carefully stand up and peer through the small window.
I almost pass out again when I see another room—just like mine—with a man, leaning against the far wall, dressed in fitted white clothes, like me.
I stare at my reflection in the window glass, focusing on the '04' around my neck. I look at the man in the next room, the number '99' is on his collar.
If I was O'Four, then surely, this new guy must be Ninety-Nine.
e)(o
