Agent of Destruction

Namjoon entered the apartment slowly, his mind still swirling with everything the agents had told him, and he barely managed to toss his keys into the bowl before collapsing on the couch.

“What's wrong with you?” Jungkook asked through a mouthful of cereal.

“How did your meeting go?” Yoongi prodded.

“Pass me the remote,” Taehyung called.

Namjoon handed the remote over numbly and Yoongi sat up in surprise. “Handing over the remote without a fight?” he exclaimed. “That's not like you.”

“I'll tell you what's not like him,” Jin said, “is not being the one to break your bowl.”

Jungkook nodded sagely in agreement and Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice.

Namjoon blinked and came back to himself. “Yeah, I'm just… I think I need a nap,” he said, getting up again. He left the room before anyone could protest and went to his bedroom, where he laid down on the bed and stared at the poster on the opposite wall. Why did I agree to it? he wondered again. He'd regretted his decision almost immediately, but a part of him wanted to rise to the challenge. Maybe I can make some kind of difference, he thought, then he heard gunshots come from the TV and he shuddered violently. Or maybe I'll die in an alley somewhere.

His door creaked opened and Hoseok leaned into view, wearing one of his many horse masks that the fans liked to send. This one had maniacal grin and Namjoon couldn't help chuckling. “Go away, Hoseok,” he mumbled.

“Come on, you love this mask!” he insisted.

“I'm just… not in the mood,” he said, turning away from the door.

He felt a weight on the bed and he glanced over his shoulder to see Hoseok leaning over him, the mask leering at him grotesquely. “Would you like a snack?” he asked somberly.

Namjoon just closed his eyes and Hoseok sighed. “Okay, seriously dude, what's wrong? You were fine a few hours ago.”

Namjoon peeked one eye open and saw that Hoseok had removed the mask and was looking down at him concernedly.

“I'm just… I don't know, a little nervous, I guess,” he murmured.

“Nervous?” Hoseok echoed. “About the tour? We've been on lots of tours, Namjoon.”

“I know,” he said, sitting up, “but this one feels different.”

Hoseok stared at him hard. “Are you sure Sejin didn't say anything to you during the meeting? You know, anything we should know about?”

“No, of course not,” Namjoon said hastily, goosebumps prickling him as the lie left his lips, but Hoseok seemed to accept it and he got up slowly. “I guess I'll leave you alone, then,” he said, heading to the door. “You know we're here for you, Namjoon,” he murmured, pausing on the threshold. “Always.”

Namjoon nodded. “Always,” he said, managing a smile.

Hoseok closed the door behind him and Namjoon felt a wave of guilt. How will I ever be able to keep lying to them like this? he wondered desperately.


******


Two months later


The plane took off and streamed through the clouds until it broke through the final layer and was drifting across a sea of blue sky. Namjoon watched the city of Rio de Janeiro disappear below the clouds and his stomach twisted again. I can't do this! he thought frantically. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't-

“Who's ready for New York City?” Taehyung yelled, throwing his arms into the air. The others cheered and Namjoon tried to force a smile onto his face.

“What cities are we going to, again?” Jungkook asked.

“New York, Chicago, Detroit, Miami, Houston and Las Vegas,” Jin recited from memory.

“Can we go to just one casino in Vegas?” Taehyung pleaded, batting his lashes at Namjoon. “Just one?”

“What are you gonna do in a casino?” Namjoon said reproachfully.

“We'll have to see where the night takes us,” he replied with a grin. Yoongi grimaced across the aisle and put his earbuds in as Taehyung formed a conga line with Jimin and Hoseok.

“You okay, dude?” Jin asked.

“I'm fine,” Namjoon assured him. “You should sleep, we've got a long flight ahead of us.”

In spite of his words the the hours passed quickly, and soon they had landed in New York and were en route to the hotel.

“I love New York!” Jimin yelled out the car window, waving to the pedestrians on the sidewalk.

“You all need to get some rest tonight,” Sejin told them, “and I'll pick you up for rehearsal in the morning.”

“What's to rehearse, Sejin?” Hoseok wondered aloud. “We've already done this concert eleven times!”

“Ten a.m. sharp,” Sejin insisted placidly.

Namjoon kept his face calm, but couldn't keep his hands from trembling in his lap.Agent Porter had promised to contact him once they made it to the States, and Namjoon had no way of knowing what lay in store after that.

They arrived at the hotel and Sejin slipped an envelope into Namjoon's hand. “Use that,” he said, pointing at a nearby payphone before herding the others toward the door.

Namjoon glanced inside the envelope and saw a paper with a phone number scrawled on it, along with some loose change.

“You coming?” Yoongi called.

“In a second,” Namjoon replied, “I'm just gonna make a quick call.”

The guys disappeared inside with Sejin and Namjoon went to the payphone. He inserted the change, then picked up the receiver and dialed quickly. “Mr. Kim?” a male voice growled.

“Agent Porter,” Namjoon replied.

“Right on schedule, I see. Where are you?”

“The Hilton on Times Square.”

“Alone?”

Namjoon glanced at the door again. “Yes,” he whispered.

“We're sending a car.”

Namjoon hung the receiver up, ignoring the change that clattered into the tray, and sat on a nearby bench, trying to prepare himself for whatever was about to happen next.

What if I'm not brave enough? he wondered as he stared at his shoes. He thought about the people trapped in that ring, forced to do unspeakable things in order to stay alive, and he gripped the bench tightly. Let me be brave enough for their sake, he prayed.


******


“This is the place,” Porter said, pointing at a map, “the Stardust Lounge. They're billed as a cigar lounge and dance hall, but it's a front for one of Song Jihoon’s most profitable brothels.”

Namjoon felt the familiar wave of nausea rise up. “Where?” he asked.

“Manhattan,” O'Hare replied, “and not too far from your hotel.”

“You even picked our hotels?” Namjoon asked incredulously.

“We had to,” Porter replied. “Don't worry, they're not all gonna be that close, but we had to make it look like you stumbled across the place on your own.”

“We need you to visit twice,” O’Hare cut in, “before and after your concert. Make it sound like the first experience was so incredible you had to come back again. That will make you stand out from the other clients.”

“Do I have to… ?” Namjoon couldn't finish, the idea in his mind too disgusting to say aloud.

“Of course not,” O’Hare replied hastily. “Many clients go just for companionship, conversation, things like that. Just pretend to be lonely or something and you'll be fine.”

“Try not to spend more than thirty minutes the first time,” Porter told him, “but we'll gradually increase it with each visit, to make it seem like you're enjoying it.”

“Will you give me a camera or something?”

“We can't,” Porter confessed, “not until they trust you. Song has a habit of patting down new clients.”

Namjoon contemplated the map again. “How do I get in?” he asked.

“When you arrive, someone will take your coat and ask whether you want a table or booth,” O’Hare replied. “Tell them you want a private room with a view. They'll take you upstairs and… help you select your companion.” His face wrinkled slightly before he continued. “It's rumored that Song's preferred clients favor the younger ones, so we recommend you do the same.”

Namjoon bowed his head for a moment, then looked up again. “Anything else?” he asked tersely.

“Do not break character,” Porter said. “No matter what you see, no matter what you're feeling on the inside, everyone in that place must believe you're a legitimate client, otherwise the operation is up and we lose our chance indefinitely.”

Namjoon nodded. “I understand.”

“Your friends aren't suspicious?” O’Hare asked.

“No,” Namjoon said, “but they will be. I can only disappear so many times before they confront me.”

“Leave that to us,” Porter said decidedly. “We'll keep them distracted.”

“Can you distract me too?” Namjoon murmured, almost to himself.

The agents exchanged a look. “We know this is hard, son,” O’Hare said, leaning over the table, “and believe me, we're as disgusted as you are, but you've got to keep thinking about the innocent kids who are trapped in this ring. You're their best chance of getting free, Namjoon.”

This was the first time they had used his given name and it made him look up. “Just tell me one thing,” he said.

“If we can.”

“What happens in Vegas, assuming I get to Song?”

O’Hare and Porter exchanged another look. “If you've been successful in earning Song's trust, we'll fit you with a wire and send you in,” Porter said finally. “Once we get enough evidence on record, we'll raid the place.”

Namjoon nodded. “And the captives?”

“Will be cared for and taken to safety,” O’Hare said quickly, “don't worry.”

Namjoon stared at the map, thinking. This is just a role, he reminded himself. All you have to do is get into character.

“Well?”

Namjoon sat up and straightened his jacket. “I'll need a bodyguard,” he said, “and Sejin. Idols don't go wandering foreign cities alone at night.”

Porter nodded. “Yes, we've taken care of that,” he promised.

Namjoon inclined his head. “Looks like I'm all set, then,” he said, trying to assume a professional countenance.

O’Hare came around the table and stuck out his hand. “Welcome to the team,” he said, shaking Namjoon’s hand firmly.

Notes