Bodyguard → RK900 x Reader

Calling Crimson

I wake up in a cold, dark room that smells of cigarettes and trash. My dress had become stained with dirt and grime, the vibrant crimson tulle fabric pooling beneath me as I blink and try to focus on figuring out where I am. I prop myself up on my shoulders and sit up, feeling my diamond earrings to make sure they were still there. Thank god.

I stand up and try to walk towards what appears to be a rusted metal door, but stumble in the process and look down to realize that there was a large cut on my leg. My eyes widen at the injury, not remembering how it could have gotten there- and my stomach sinks when I notice it's still bleeding a bit.

I feel the panic well up inside of me, but I force myself to push it down and focus. I tear a large piece of fabric from my dress and tie it tightly around the cut on my leg, before making my way back towards the metal door. My heart was racing fast in my chest, but I have been trained for these scenarios. Ever since I was a child, I have known the value of my life and the threat that my family's wealth brung about. I need to stay calm. This place stinks, my dress is ruined and I'm trapped, not knowing what's going to happen next- but I need to stay calm.

Extending my hands out in front of me, I grab the handle and try to push and pull at the door.

When it doesn't budge, everything really starts to sink in deeper. I'm trapped. I've been kidnapped. Taken. Probably for ransom. Stay calm.

I shake the door more violently as I begin to yell out:

"Please, you don't have to do this!"  I squeeze the door handle, "Name your price and I'll give it to you!"  I yell out, "Open the door! Let's talk!"

Unexpectedly, the door is opened deftly, making me stumble backwards slightly as I watch two large, bruised and buff men enter through. I am immediately filled with regret as I feel both of them grab me by my arms and carry me out of the room. I stay completely still and comply, not wanting to get hit or...worse.

They walk me down a dark, narrow tunnel that is made entirely of stone. And from the flecks of dirt that fell from the top slightly, as well as the lack of any noise, I can immediately tell I'm somewhere underground. I gulp, staying silent as they guide me down the tunnel and speak to each other in a different language. I think it was Russian, but I wasn't sure. 

Eventually, I'm led through another large, rusted metal door into what appears to be an enclosed space that was, actually, distinctly upscale and grander looking than the rest of the underground hell-hole. Black glass panels lined the walls with mirrored ceilings, and extravagant statues splayed out atop the glittery tiled floors as the dim warm lights from the multiple chandeliers glimmered and reflected in them. It was a dim room through its palor, but it sparkled in all of its grandeur. A stark contrast from where I had awoken.

But my sudden intake of the scene before me is short-lived, where the men throw me across the cold, glittered tiles before turning around to leave. The loud slam of the large door pierces my ears as I turn around to see that they have gone. My elbows ache as I push myself off of the ground and try to stand up, but my leg still stings from where the laceration was, and I wince instead while plopping back down onto the floor. I extend my leg outwards painfully to take a look at the cut that I had bandaged poorly-

But thats when I see them.

Two, shiny black shoes standing directly in front of me. I hadn't even heard the footsteps approach, as I quickly lift my head and see him. A man. Wearing a blank white mask. 

His hair was as white as the snow, the white mask paling in comparison to his light skin and hair. He wore a white shirt tucked into some slacks, an elegant vest buttoned overtop the satiny white top thats sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, exposing veiny arms.  I felt a chill run down my spine as I watched him extend a pale hand down to me silently.