This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, Jungkook thought desperately, but wishing didn’t make the underage dancers disappear. The image of that young girl grinding on Namjoon’s lap was permanently burned into his memory, and he prayed fervently that his explanation about the agents was true. Namjoon would never do something like this without a good reason, he told himself.
The others were all angry, but hiding it well enough that no one else would notice. Jungkook had been living with them for years now, however, and he could see tiny things like a clenched jaw or tensed shoulders that meant his friends were holding back a tsunami of emotions. Namjoon was the calmest and actually seemed less tense than he had been over the last few weeks. Maybe he really was telling the truth.
Another round of drinks was brought and Jungkook accepted one without even looking at it. He was unable to tear his eyes from the dancers, trying to fathom how real people could be forced into such a life. Several of them looked younger than him, and their futures had been usurped by some pimp who only saw them as sex objects.
Jungkook downed the drink in one swallow.
Halfway through the song the door opened again and the red-headed man approached Namjoon. “Mr. Song will see you now,” he heard him say.
Namjoon left with Taylor and Jungkook watched him go, then a dancer straddled his lap and his mind went blank from panic. Play along, he remembered, shoving his revulsion back, and he smiled.


******


Namjoon was brought to a smaller room and sighed with relief as the club music faded to a distant humming. Finally some quiet, he thought to himself.
A group of men were sitting on couches, and one of them rose to greet him. “Mr. Kim,” he said, giving him a bow, “or do you prefer RapMonster?”
Namjoon returned the bow. “Mr. Kim is fine,” he replied.
“I am Song Jihoon,” Song said, extending his hand to Namjoon. “I’ve been looking forward to this for several weeks now. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Namjoon said automatically, shaking his hand.
“These are some of my other business partners,” Song said, gesturing to the other men. “Please sit, we have much to discuss.”
Namjoon took an empty seat and Song settled comfortably back into the couch. “Tell me, Mr. Kim, how did you hear about our little operation?”
“I was looking for some entertainment while we were staying in New York, and I happened across the Stardust Lounge. I must admit, I was impressed by the quality of your service.”
Song nodded. “Madam Iseul said much the same.”
He studied Namjoon for a minute, and Namjoon did his best to hide how uncomfortable he was. “You’re a unique individual, Mr. Kim,” he said finally. “Wealth, fame and intelligence are all yours, and you have a glittering future before you. It’s a shame, really.”
“Shame?” Namjoon echoed. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“All of that potential, thrown away on a foolish collaboration with the FBI. Surely you can agree?”
Namjoon’s anxiety turned to panic, but he was alone in the room with Song and his men. He needed to stay clear-minded if he was going to get out alive. “I’m sorry, but I can’t say I’ve ever met someone from the FBI,” he said as carelessly as possible. “Perhaps you’ve seen a few too many American spy movies.”
“I’m not a fool,” Song returned icily, his pleasant demeanor hardening noticeably. “You’re hardly the first infiltrator, though I must admit they’re starting to get creative with their choices.”
Namjoon stretched slowly and folded his arms behind his head. “If we’re not going to talk business, I’d like to get back to my entertainment,” he said.
“The fun’s over, Mr. Kim,” Song said, waving his men forward. They got up and approached him, leaving Namjoon only a couple of seconds to act. He felt around the watch on his wrist and pressed the button rapidly before he was hauled to his feet. Did I push it twice, or three times? he wondered desperately.
“Take Mr. Kim around back,” Song said, getting to his feet, “and try to make it look like an accident.”
A sudden commotion from the dance floor outside caught their attention for a split second, and Namjoon used the distraction to break free of Song’s men and dash for the door. “Grab him!” Song commanded.
Namjoon threw the door open, darted past a startled Taylor and ran for the dance floor. He could see agents fighting their way through the drunken crowd, but he wasn’t sure they’d get to him before Song did. He slipped into the crowd, trying to avoid being seen as he strove to get to the room his friends were in. Bullets raced over his head, scattering the patrons, but the path to the door was now clear and he burst through it. “We have to go!” he shouted.
“Behind you!” Jimin yelled, and Namjoon barely had time to slam the door shut before Song’s men grabbed him.
“What’s going on?” Hoseok asked. “We thought we heard gunsh-”
“Song knew,” Namjoon gasped. “The- the agents are coming, but-”
Bullets ripped through the door and they all dove to the floor. “We’re trapped!” Jin squawked.
Namjoon looked up to where the dancers were huddled together behind the stage. “You have to help us,” he rasped. “Are there any other ways out of this room?”
There was a loud thud like someone had rammed their shoulder into the door, and it shook alarmingly. Jungkook and Taehyung leaped up and braced themselves against it as the barrage continued, but Namjoon could see how terrified they all were and his brain immediately calmed. “We came here to help you,” he said, turning back to the dancers. “We’re working with the authorities to free you from this place. I know Song tricked you, or possibly even kidnapped you, and you didn’t choose this life. We’re gonna help you, but you have to help us first.”
One of the male dancers, a muscled teenager in tight metallic pants, shouldered his way past the others. “There’s a stage exit,” he said, jutting his chin at the curtained backdrop.
“Namjoon!” Yoongi shouted.
Namjoon turned to see the men lining up outside the giant mirrored window and aiming at it with their guns. “Go!” he shouted, shoving the dancers forward.
All of them ran for the stage as Song’s men fired at the window. It held for a few seconds, long enough for all of them to dash behind the curtain, then they heard it shatter with an earsplitting crash.
“Follow them!” Namjoon hissed to his friends.
The dancers led them through a tiny corridor that must have run the entire length of the club, and it was so narrow they were forced to walk single file. Namjoon could barely see the dancer in front of him, while Jin’s breath was hot on the back of his neck. The ground began to decline under their feet, and the air was almost stifling with the smell of sweat and the dancers’ perfume.
A muffled clamoring could be heard behind them and Namjoon felt the blood drain from his face. “We have to move faster!” he whispered, and they went into an awkward half-run that had them tripping and sliding more than anything else. “In here!” he heard one of the dancers call, and a door opened somewhere in the dimness ahead. All of them quickly filed in and Jungkook pulled the door closed after them. “What now?” he whispered.
“Follow me,” the male dancer said.
“No!” one of the girls protested. “Minjae, you can’t, they’ll-”
“They’re gonna help us get out of here, Aeri,” Minjae said in a calm voice. “You and the other girls head to the dorm. I’ll be fine.”
Aeri threw her arms around Minjae, and Namjoon suddenly saw what could be a little sister worried about her big brother instead of two adult performers. After a moment Minjae detached himself from Aeri and waved them on. “Follow me.”
He led them through another hallway, which was lit by stark fluorescent lights and made of concrete that had been painted white. There was glitter and costume pieces littering the floor, and Namjoon glimpsed doors on both sides.
“There are some stairs leading up to the rear of the club,” Minjae was saying. “They’re usually guarded, but they would’ve run inside once they heard the gunshots.”
“Are you sure?” Namjoon panted.
“No, but there’s nothing else.”
He opened the last door and revealed a flight of stairs in a dark vestibule, lit only by a red EXIT sign above the door. “Go!” he said, keeping an eye on the hallway as he waved them through. Namjoon led the way as they ran up the stairs and shoved the door open.
“Freeze!”
A bright light was shone in his face and Namjoon stopped in his tracks. He felt someone bump into him, but he was too blinded to see who.
“Looks like all of them were in on it.”
“Hope I’ve got enough bullets.”
Namjoon’s heart was thudding in his ears as several dark silhouettes stepped in front of the light, guns clearly cocked in their hands. “Down on your knees, all of you, and we’ll make this painless,” one of them growled.
Namjoon spread his arms out, as if to shield his friends, but the alley they were in had only one outlet, and it was blocked by Song’s men. “I said to get on your knees!” the man shouted.
Where are the agents? Namjoon wondered desperately.
“To hell with it, they’re already cornered,” another man said.
They had been slowly closing in on them, pushing them back further and further into the alley, and now Namjoon could feel the rough brick against his back. His friends were all trembling violently, and there were several hands clutching onto him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“So are we,” Yoongi replied shakily.
A sudden yell rent the air, startling all of them, and Namjoon saw Minjae running toward one of the guards with some long object raised above his head. “Eat metal, dipshit!” he shouted, and he brought the object down on the man’s head with considerable force. The attack distracted the guards for a moment, and before Namjoon could decide what to do Jungkook took a running start at the lead guard. Namjoon wanted to scream, but the guard never saw Jungkook coming until his foot smashed into his face. The guard crumpled like a rag doll and the others awakened from their spell. “Kill them!” one yelled.
“No!” Jimin yelled, joining the fray with a mighty punch to the guard’s face. The others quickly ran in, using their momentum to knock the guards down and disarm them. Namjoon wasn’t as skilled as the martial arts-certified Jimin and Jungkook, but he charged in and managed to pin one of the guards down. None of them were expecting an attack from unarmed prey, but the two guards nearest the light leaped back and fired several times into the fray. Namjoon felt a bullet whiz by his cheek and into the neck of the guard he was fighting. We have to get out of here! he thought frantically.
Something came flying over their heads and landed with a clink in the midst of the fighting. Namjoon couldn’t see what it was, then all at once a thick cloud of fumes started filling the alley. It immediately burned his eyes and throat, and he dropped to the ground as his lungs began seizing. No, no…
“Move in!” a voice called, and Namjoon was aware of people running through the cloud and talking indistinctly. His eyes were too swollen to see much, but he could hear radios crackling, and he felt two strong hands grab him by the arms and attempt to pull him up. “It’s alright, son,” the voice said, “it’s alright.”
“No…” Namjoon rasped, jerking away.
“Damn it, it’s me, Namjoon. Let’s get you to fresh air.”
Porter? Namjoon thought incredulously.
He was guided out of the alley and made to sit on something metal, possibly the back of a car, and someone began removing his jacket. “Porter,” he gasped, but there was no reply and someone started dabbing at his face with a damp towel. “Hold still, we need to flush your eyes,” a female voice said. A cool liquid was squirted into his eyes and he recoiled, but forced himself to be still as they worked. Gradually the burning lessened a little and he was able to crack his eyes open.
He was sitting on the back of an ambulance, and a brown-haired paramedic was dousing his face with a large plastic bottle of something clear. He was aware of someone sitting next to him, and he reached out to touch them. “It’s me, Joon,” Taehyung croaked.
“Don’t talk,” the paramedic ordered.
Someone else approached the ambulance and Namjoon could make out Porter looming over him. “Sorry about this, son, but it was the only way to neutralize Song’s men without injuring one of you.”
Namjoon hacked painfully. “You gassed us?”
“No talking,” the paramedic repeated sternly.
“We got your panic signal and were able to secure the club fairly quickly,” Porter continued. “You gave us quite a scare when you disappeared like that. You and your friends were brave.”
Namjoon squinted his eyes as he tried to focus them on Porter’s face. “High praise,” he murmured. “Song?”
“In our custody,” Porter confirmed, “along with most of his goons. The staff is being taken in for questioning, since we’re not sure how many of them were in on the trafficking. O’Hare’s having a field day organizing that.”
Namjoon’s face was still burning, but he needed to know something else. “The… dancers?”
He could’ve sworn Porter smiled. “DCS is documenting them now,” he replied. “The minors will be in their custody until we can get in touch with their families back in South Korea. We’ll need permission for them to testify against Song.”
“I need to finish treatment,” the paramedic insisted.
“Of course,” Porter said. “You did good, son. You all did. We’ll talk more later.”
He disappeared back into the crowd of agents and police officers and Namjoon allowed the paramedic to resume her work. It’s over, he thought in relief. It’s over.

Notes