Suga (Min Yoongi) stretched his calves and his hamstrings and took the elevator to the tenth floor.

Even before he opened the door, the heady aroma of meat and onions wrapped in cabbage and simmering in a pot of creamy tomato sauce welcomed him home.

He entered the apartment and saw the intruders. Instinctively he reached for his gun. But of course he didn't have one in his wet jogging suit.

The men in the apartment had guns. All four of them.

Jimin was sitting in the middle of the living room, tied to a dining room chair. His eyes were red and puffy, his mouth taped shut.

"How dare you!" Suga screamed. "What is the meaning of this? Do you muzhiks know who I am?" he charged forward to untie his friend.

One of the men slammed him in the face with a gun barrel, and Suga reeled backward, spitting blood and teeth.

Suga studied his attacker. One side of the man's face was covered with scars and skin grafts. It was a face that was difficult to look at, but Suga knew that if he had ever seen it before, he would surely remember it now. But this man was a stranger.

"Sit," the man demanded in a harsh tone.

A second dining room chair was pushed under him, and Suga was shoved into it.

"Who authorized this? Who sent you?" Suga demanded as one of the other men tied him to the chair.

The man with the scarred face seemed to be in charge. "Nobody sent us," he said, winking at the others. "We heard there was a party tonight, so we came on our own -- no invitation."

The other three laughed.

But Suga didn't see the humor. He was incensed. "I gave those assholes ten million dollars, and they agreed to let me live in peace as long as I never returned to the United States again," he said. "We had a deal. Ironclad. Bound by the law."

"I see," the leader said. "A deal. An agreement between the Producers and the illustrious Mr. Agust D...Suga. Or should I call you Mr. Min Yoongi?"

It had been decades since Suga had heard his real full name.

"I don't care what you call me. Just untie me and get out. You've made a big mistake. None of the producers would ever choose to violate the law."

"That may be true," the gunman said, punching Suga in the mouth and shattering more teeth. "But we are not from the producers."

As soon as Jimin's friend took the blow, muffled screams erupted from under the duct tape that covered his mouth.

One of the men slapped his face. "Shut up, bastard!"

Suga strained against the ropes the men had tied around him. "I'll kill you," he screamed.

"Your killing days are over," the leader said, driving a fist into Suga's left ear. A searing pain erupted from the blow and his hearing cut out for a few minutes with a deafening ringing sound. "Everyone, a toast to the bride."

The four men lifted their imaginary glasses.

"Cheers!" they shouted. Then they began to dance around the bride.

Jimin.

The room was spinning, and watching the four men dance in a circle around Jimin made Suga even dizzier.

The leader ripped the tape from Jimin's mouth, and he gasped for air. "I'm NOT a bride!"

"Raise the bride up high," he bellowed.

The four men each grabbed a leg of the chair and hoisted it almost to the top of the ten-foot ceiling.

Jimin screamed in terror. "Suga!"

And in that moment Suga knew.

"Please, no. You can have every penny I have."

"This will be payment enough," the leader said, as the four men danced toward the terrace door.

One of the men kicked it open, and now Jimin, too, realized his fate. "Please," he screamed. "No!"

Suga sat up in his bed, dripping with sweat. The perspiration trickled down his cheeks and dripped onto the already sweat-soaked blanket that he was clutching tightly in his hands. He snapped his head to the side, his eyes finding the innocent, sleeping figure lying on the bed beside him.

Soft snores came from him as well as the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

Seeing him, peacefully sleeping and unharmed, left Suga with reassurance. He gradually calmed his racing heart and caught his breath.

It was just a bad nightmare.

Suga let go of the blanket and brushed a clammy hand over Jimin's head. Jimin slept through his touch, not stirring or flinching as Suga whispered, "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."