Disney's goal of conquering Earth is finally complete, and their first action of production is Twisted Tales.
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Happy Endings doesn't exist in their mindset anymore, only the rule of Survival of the Fittest. However, humans lost those instincts, lon...
Player Two: Kim Taehyung Wins: 0 Calls: 1 Injuries: 0
Taehyung hated the color white, at the fault of Disney.
White walls, white tiled floor, white ceiling, white bed sheets, white, white, white.
He never had a problem with it, hardly even noticed it’s presence, yet as he sat on the floor, back against the wall, he couldn’t help but loathe it. Staring at a spaceless room for hours on end was bound to make him irritated. The back of his eyes burned, and every time he closed them, it was sweet relief - but then they opened again and the ache would come back.
He faced the wall, eyes bleary and watery. He blinked, ignored the stray tear that fell and glared at the wall even harder. He had half a mind to start picking at the paint, chip and peel, hope that beneath the white canvas was a different color.
Anything but white.
He couldn't remember feeling this helpless before. Locked in a room with no way out, like some carnival tiger meant to be tamed. He had all this pent up energy - rage, anxiety, and fear - flying in the pit of his stomach like a class five hurricane and it was begging to be let loose.
This was what they wanted though.
It was good for business.
For sparking fear in the resisting population.
His nails dug into the palm of his hands, drawing blood but he barely noticed, too focused on trying to keep sane. He wasn't made to stay still. He was made to wander, and being inside this square little room would drive him to death rather than the actual game.
Taehyung found himself cursing the white wall once more.
It’s pure.
He ignored the familiar voice in his head.
White represents clean.
He clenched his jaw, back tensing as he shifted on the floor. There was a time in his life where he didn’t resent the person behind the voice - even welcomed it, but he knew the softness of her tone and the soothing feeling it caused was fake.
His heart lurched from his chest, an even more painful ache than staring at white all day, however, as he stared at the wall opposite of him, the lumps and bumps of uneven paint layers and dried drips formed into a person.
Before the pouty lips and azure eyes could form, Taehyung tried shaking the hallucination away, but he got sucked into it's merciless claws.
Her brown boots scuffed against the pavement, hands tucked into her to-large jacket, head tucked as she kicked at loose gravel. The moment he saw her, he knew something was wrong. He’s known her long enough to tell when something wasn't okay.
“What happened?” He asked as he came to a stop before her. She jumped, eyes wide as she realized he was finally here, but before he or she could utter another word, they barreled down on him.
They wore the required navy blue uniform and black studded boots. The metal belt around their waist held a variety of weapons, including a taser, a baton, chains, and a single pair of metal handcuffs.
They were the police deployed by Disney, originally called the Dificials.
One tackled him to the ground.
Taehyung landed with a groan, hissed as the gravel pierced his skin. He clawed at the ground, tried to wiggle his way out, but he couldn't move, the heavyweight of the Dificial held him down. A pair of black studded boots stepped on his hands, cracking his knuckles.
He screamed, a searing hot pain shot down his arm. He broke a finger. He tried to pull his hand out from under the Dificial, but it was no use.
Taehyung glanced up, tried to see past the man that blocked his view, wanted to make sure she was okay.
Taehyung seemed to be their goal, they completely disregarded her.
She stood there, hands held to her mouth as she stared. Guilt was etched into her features.
Rage took over him as realization dawned on him.
The person he trusted most, turned him in.
Taehyung blinked back into reality. His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles white and the heel of his palms bled from where his nails dug into his skin.
He uncurled his fist and stared at his right hand. He wiggled his middle finger, the one that broke under the Dificials boot. It was almost like it never happened. After passing out in the street, he found himself in the room with his broken finger healed.
No matter how many times he replayed the scene in his head, he couldn't figure out why she would do that to him. Did they offer her money? Was she a spy planted into his life meant to turn him in when the time came?
He scoffed, it didn't matter now. What did matter, was him surviving the killer trials Disney used for their entertainment.
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