Agent of Destruction

Namjoon liked Chicago. He didn't have a particular reason, but something about the relentless pace of daily life there appealed to him in a way most other cities didn't. Hoseok liked to tease that it was about the pizza, while Jimin held it was the museums, but Namjoon didn't know and didn't really care.

“Look, hot dogs!” Taehyung exclaimed, pointing to a stand across the street.

“I forgot my wallet,” Jungkook said in dismay.

“Go on,” Namjoon said, handing him a five dollar bill, “and bring me one too.”

“You're the best!” Jungkook cheered, snatching the money out of his hand and following the others down the sidewalk.

“Feeling generous today?” Yoongi asked. “Wait for the light, Kookie!”

“Maybe,” Namjoon admitted, “though I like to think I'm always generous.”

“Sure,” Yoongi agreed, his eyes glued to his phone. “Don't let them get too full, though. We've got that extra practice in an hour.”

“They'll be fine,” Namjoon said confidently.

The other members returned with their food and several cars honked as Jungkook hightailed it back across the crosswalk. “For you, kind sir,” he said, bowing with a flourish as he presented a hot dog to Namjoon.

“Thanks,” Namjoon said, taking a large bite of the hot dog, but somehow it flew up and landed on Namjoon’s shirt, covering him in mustard and relish, and the others burst out laughing as he tried to clean himself up without dropping the rest of his food. “The god of destruction strikes again!” Jimin giggled.

“Here,” Jin said, handing him a napkin, “though I don't know how much good it'll do you.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling as he took the napkin. “I think my shirt is officially destroyed,” he remarked, looking down at the splattered fabric.

“Go change, then meet us at the arena,” Hoseok suggested.

“Yeah, no one wants to dance with a giant hot dog,” Taehyung added.

Namjoon shoved him playfully and flagged down a cab. “See you in an hour,” he called as he got in.

“Where to, sir?”

“The Four Seasons hotel,” Namjoon replied. He looked at his ruined shirt again and grimaced. What a price to pay for a stupid hot dog.

The cab dropped him off at the hotel and he went straight to his suite, trying to avoid any encounters on the way there. The last thing I need is someone wanting to take a picture with the Human Hot Dog.

He opened the door and immediately pulled off his shirt, then went to the closet to find another.

“Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon jumped and swore loudly. “How long have you been there?” he demanded, turning around.

“Not long,” Agent Porter said mildly, “but I didn't expect to see you for another ninety minutes.”

“Ninety minutes?” Namjoon echoed. He reached into the closet and yanked a green tee shirt off its hanger. “I've got practice until five.”

“There was to be an… interruption twenty minutes in,” Porter replied. “We needed to speak with you, but this will do just fine.”

Namjoon swallowed a groan and pulled on the clean shirt. “About?”

“About your next visit,” Porter said. “It would seem that Song has already heard about your visits in New York and is intrigued by the idea of an idol as an investor. There's even a rumor that he's traveling to the States to meet you personally.”

“That's good, isn't it?”

“Yes and no,” Porter said after a moment. “While the end goal is to get Song into custody, the operation in Las Vegas has been carefully planned, evaluated and set up for the safest and most positive outcome. If Song were to meet you in say, Miami, we cannot guarantee the same level of provision and safety at this juncture.”

Namjoon hung his ruined shirt on a hanger and placed it on the closet door knob. “I don't have any control over whether Song comes early or not,” he said quietly.

“Actually, you do,” Porter said, getting up. “The more interested you appear, the more eager Song could become, resulting in more danger to all concerned, and I'm not just talking about you.”

Namjoon turned around swiftly. “What are you talking about, Agent Porter?” he demanded.

“If Song were to suspect anything or even uncover the operation, not only would you be at risk, but your bandmates, your managers, even your family back home could all become targets. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do!” he snapped. “I'm practically drowning in risk, all while pretending nothing is wrong and lying to my friends about it!”

Agent Porter didn't reply and Namjoon rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Forgive me,” he murmured.

“Don't worry about it,” Porter said, seeming completely unruffled by Namjoon's outburst. “Many operatives scream at each other if the stress of a mission gets bad enough. All things considered, you're doing remarkably well.”

Namjoon wasn't expecting a compliment and he felt slightly deflated. “What would you have me do?” he asked humbly.

“You must carefully balance your interactions with Song's people,” Porter said, folding his arms loosely. “Keep him on the hook, but don't reel him in yet.”

“How?” he asked desperately. “We don't even know if Song is really coming or not. If I back off now, it could kill the whole mission without us realizing it. And as regards to the risk, I think I accepted that back in Seoul.”

Porter sighed and pursed his lips. “There is something else we could try,” he murmured, “but it may feel a little drastic.”

“Tell me,” Namjoon said immediately.

“It will be incredibly exhausting,” Porter warned him, “for you and your bandmates.”

“Just tell me!”

“We can increase your schedules,” Porter said crisply. “We know you're tightly packed anyway, but what we're suggesting will consume every waking moment you have, even cutting into your sleep. You will always be on the move, with no sense of free time or rest. It will be painful and stressful, but it will give you a good reason to limit your interactions with Song's establishments and might keep you all safer.”

Namjoon processed this for a moment. “Safer how?” he asked finally.

“With BTS continually on the go, it will be harder for unfriendly eyes to track your movements should suspicion ever fall on you, but you're the band leader; it's your decision.”

Namjoon chewed his lip while he turned the offer over in his mind. We still have a month to go before we leave America, he thought to himself. If I put the guys through this, will we be okay on the other end of it?

Even as he asked the question he knew the answer and he looked up at the agent. “Do it,” he said, “but keep my friends safe.”


******


After their first Chicago show ended Namjoon hurried through changing in order to be the first one out. He knew the new schedules were about to be distributed and he needed to be as prepared as possible for any backlash.

“There you are,” Sejin said, wading through the crowded hallway. “Thought you might want to see these.”

He handed Namjoon a stack of papers and he tried not to groan as he scanned the first one. This is worse than I thought, he realized.

“What's that?” Taehyung asked, peering over his shoulder.

“Schedules!” Jimin announced, snatching the papers out of Namjoon's hands before he could stop him.

“Jimin, wait-”

“Here you go,” Jimin said, passing the papers out as the rest of the members filed down the hallway.

“Hang on,” Taehyung said, scanning it rapidly, “this must be a typo. Three fan signs, a photoshoot, talk show appearance, radio interview and costume fittings in one afternoon?”

“Make that evening,” Yoongi said grimly. “We'll be up past midnight.”

Jin flipped ahead a few pages. “This is insane,” he breathed. “Joon, is the rest of the tour like this?”

They all looked at him expectantly and Namjoon felt a wave of guilt crash over him.

“It is,” Sejin confirmed, saving him from answering.

“But… but… “ Jungkook seemed dumbfounded as he stared at the impossible schedule.

“All due respect, this isn't physically possible,” Hoseok attempted.

“We felt that your time wasn't being managed to its greatest capacity, so we've rearranged it accordingly.”

Hoseok gave Namjoon a pleading look and he tried to pull himself together. “I agree,” he said in a strong voice.

“What?!” the others exclaimed.

“We spend too much time wandering around places,” Namjoon continued, “and it's a pretty big waste of time.”

All of them seemed hurt by this and ducked their heads down. “What about the art museum?” Jungkook asked.

“Or the Sears Tower?” Jimin added. “Were those just a waste of time too?”

Namjoon shrugged. “We have to do what's best for the group, not for ourselves.”

Sejin checked his phone. “Cars are here,” he said, waving them through.

The guys all walked outside in silence, still clutching their schedules as they got into the two cars idling by the curb. Namjoon went with Jungkook and Jimin, hoping to try and cheer them up, but Jimin just stared out the window while Jungkook went over and over the schedule, trying to make sense of it and getting more desperate the longer he looked.

“Hey,” Namjoon said, putting a hand on his arm, “just take it one day at a time, okay?”

“One day?” Jungkook repeated. “This is three days, easy. I don't think I can do this.”

“You can,” Namjoon returned, “and we'll all help each other, okay?”

Jungkook didn't respond and Namjoon felt like screaming. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

His phone buzzed and he answered it almost unthinkingly. “Yeah?”

“Don't go tonight,” O’Hare said immediately.

“What?”

“I said, don't go tonight,” he repeated, “or at all while you're in Chicago.”

Namjoon felt indignant, but he kept his voice neutral. “Why?” he asked calmly.

“We need time to prepare the other sites for potential raids, but if Song comes to Chicago this week we're done for,” he said. “Stay away from his place, preferably until Miami, then we'll give you the go-ahead when we're ready.”

“Miami?” Namjoon whispered. “What about-”

“Detroit is too risky and too soon to make any decent plans,” O’Hare cut in. “The earliest and safest option is in Miami.”

Namjoon chewed his lip for a moment. “And now?”

“Just be RapMonster until then,” O’Hare said. “We'll be in touch once you get to Florida.”

The call ended and Namjoon fought the urge to break his phone in half.

“Who was that?” Jungkook asked.

“No one,” Namjoon replied, wishing that were true.


******


The next few days were almost unbearable for the members as their new schedules took hold. Sejin had become relentless, endlessly herding them from one obligation to the next, and it broke Namjoon's heart to listen to the others try and figure out why the company was suddenly treating them this way.

Soon it was their last night in Chicago and after their concert ended they were hauled to a round of interviews that had been set up at the hotel. It was almost midnight as Sejin led them into the conference room where the interview crew was setting up.

“Hi, I'm May Carey,” said a blonde woman in a red pantsuit, and she gave them a bright smile as she quickly shook each member’s hand. “Sorry about the late hour, but we're hoping to get this on tomorrow's news.”

“It's no problem,” Namjoon said in English, trying to summon a brave smile.

“We wanted to interview you from the moment we heard you were coming, and when your manager called and said you had an opening in your schedule, I just couldn't resist!”

Taehyung glared at her and Jin elbowed him.

“We're ready,” the cameraman called, so May brought them over and gestured to a group of stools in front of a white backdrop. Only three, Namjoon mused, thinking quickly. Normally it would be Hoseok, Jimin and him in the front, but Hoseok had been dozing off since they left the arena and Jimin's eyes were so red he looked high, so Namjoon made an executive decision. “Yoongi, Jin,” he murmured, pointing at the stools.

Yoongi shook his head vehemently, but Jin prodded him into the middle seat and he gave Namjoon a scathing look as they settled in. Sorry, he mouthed as he positioned the others behind them. Jungkook seemed to be near tears, while Taehyung was still glowering at May as she read over her notes. “Smile, please,” Namjoon whispered, “this is TV, remember?”

Hoseok's eyes drifted closed and Namjoon poked him hard. “Ow!” he yelped loudly.

“Ready?” May asked.

Namjoon nodded. “If you get mad, just poke Hoseok,” he told Taehyung, and he gave Jungkook a comforting pat before taking the seat nearest to May.

“Hi, I'm May Carey, and I'm here with global music sensation BTS…”

During the interview Namjoon repeatedly resisted the urge to turn and look at the others. They all responded on cue, but he felt Jimin grab his shoulder to steady himself after they bowed. I've gotta talk to them later, he decided.

Mercifully the interview only lasted fifteen minutes and it was all they could do not to run out of the room as they headed for the elevators. Sejin clapped Namjoon on the shoulder as he left and whispered, “Tell them they did well.”

The elevator ride was silent and simmered with bad feelings, but Namjoon cleared his throat anyway. “Can I talk to everyone in my room, please?” he asked quietly.

They all shuffled into his room and collapsed onto the nearest flat surfaces. “This is the worst tour ever,” Taehyung said flatly.

“You're all doing really well,” Namjoon attempted.

“Doing well?!” Jungkook exclaimed. “You call this doing well?”

“Look, I know it's hard-”

“Why did you agree with Sejin?” Jin demanded. “You didn't put up any fight when he handed you those schedules, and I want to know why!”

“ARMY is growing and we’re getting more international attention-”

“Bullshit!”

“-and I agreed that we could do better,” Namjoon said stubbornly. “It's only for a few more weeks, anyway.”

“What do you mean, a few more weeks?” Yoongi asked suspiciously. “Do you know something?”

This is not going well, Namjoon thought grimly. “Look, let's just take it one hour at a time, okay? Do it for me, and for each other.”

He checked his watch. “Everyone go to bed now, our flight leaves in six hours.”

They all groaned and dragged themselves up again. “Hobi’s asleep,” Jimin said, nudging him with his foot.

“Just leave him,” Namjoon said tiredly. “The bed will hold both of us.”

The others left and Namjoon got ready for bed, but he kept glancing over at Hoseok's prone figure on the bed. It's only been five days and it's already going worse than I ever imagined, he thought. The longer he thought about it, the angrier he became and on an impulse he snatched up his phone and went out into the hallway. It took him a moment to remember the number he needed, but it came to him and he waited impatiently as the line rang.

“Mr. Kim? What's wrong?”

“I need to have a word,” he growled.

“Are you in danger?”

“What? No, I just-”

“This line is for emergencies only, remember?”

“I'd call this an emergency!” Namjoon snapped. “It's been five days and my friends are already started to come unglued thanks to this hellish schedule. If we keep this up until Vegas, we may not be a group anymore!”

“So?”

Namjoon ground his teeth. “So fix it,” he said tersely.

“Son-”

“I am not about to sit back and watch our group shatter into a million pieces because of some stupid sting operation!” he barked. “This isn't what I signed up for, and I want it changed!”

“Lower your voice!” Porter commanded. “You and I agreed that this was the best option, for you and everyone else involved. I told you of the risks, and you agreed to those as well.”

“But-”

“But nothing! Don't whine to me about your precious boy band while hundreds of young people remain trapped in slavery all over this country. I won't stand for it, do you hear me?”

Namjoon still felt angry, but the chastening made him hang his head. “I'm sorry.”

“We are too,” Porter replied, and it almost sounded like there was compassion in his voice. “Look, just keep it together until you get to Miami, and if you do a good job there, we might be able to ease up on the reins a bit.”

“Really?” Namjoon asked hopefully.

“Don't expect too much,” Porter warned, “but we'll do what we can, as long as you're delivering good results.”

Namjoon nodded. “I understand.”

“Now go to bed and don't call this number again unless you have a real emergency.”

The line went dead and Namjoon crept back into his room, being careful not to disturb Hoseok. He contemplated his friend for a moment, then pulled Hoseok's shoes off and draped a blanket over him before climbing into bed. Miami is in four days, he calculated mentally. If we can just hold on that long, maybe we'll make it.

The rhythm of Hoseok's breathing was soothing and soon Namjoon's eyes drifted shut, sleep claiming him at last.

Notes