Chapter Text
The newspapers flashed everywhere at the release of the news: Bulletproof Boyscouts have dropped to an all new low. No- they didn't just go in and rob banks while driving away and waving tommy guns, but rather, they were accused of being in one of the most distasteful practices anyone could imagine. The Shanghai business. The idea behind it all was that the sailors would be slaves, either legally or illegally obtained and it didn't matter what age of the man. They were usually orphans with no future, or single men, divorced, or whatever that crossed the mind. They eventually grew to rough and brutal able bodied workers, but it came over time while floating across the sea in the Asian Provinces. With more fit men crossing into Europe for the final endings of World War 1, they had a slow business on the sea-faring side. However, no one said there had to be an age limit for the women- though it was highly frowned upon if she were less than 15 years of age. Even bad men had some modesty, you did have to give them credit for that. That being said, women were kidnapped, drugged, mugged, whatever, and dragged to a trap door and sent into the tunnels below the downtown city of Portland, and dragged off to cells, where she would be sold later on and be brought to their masters in a foreign land. Usually, they were set up in a market in one of the major harbors of China, and sold off like animals there.
However, the inkling suspicion in the pits of Kim Namjoon's core rose when he took note of your photograph in the newspaper he clutched so harshly within his hand- they had a special reserve for you. His eyes bore into the paper, and his knuckles turned white. His head tilted upwards in the large expanse of the building they resided within. A large rug in red expanded across the hardwood floors, low rising couches angled towards the oak desk that was littered with letters, magazines, and numerous pistols and revolvers. Sitting in holsters at the land of his floating ribs, and white button up, were Colt M1911 .45 ACPs. The long straps went over his white button up, and trailed down over his shoulder blades and met midback, where they hooked onto his belt that kept his suit pants up. His hands were hidden in black leather gloves, and his right hand reached up to remove the long cigarette that nestled itself between his lusciously plump lips. He gave it no mind, dropping the cigarette into the ash tray while exhaling softly to release the smoke that escaped his lips like a smoldering dragon.
Standing near a window was his second in command, Kim Seokjin or commonly known as Jin, and overlooked the busy streets below. His light brown hair was neatly combed back, and his right hand was tucked into his pants pocket, where his forearm pushed the front of his suit jacket to the side and revealed his three piece suit. A chain was linked from a button at the edge of where his belly button would be, and hid into a pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. The white pinstripes against the black made a stark contrast, and revealed the man sitting on the arm of the furniture. His black hair- which was highlighted with a blue color- was hidden below an equally black fedora, and his eyes were just as dark as that of his hat. His skin was white as sugar, and the man now held a jaunting jaw. Min Yoongi- also known as Suga- was his right hand man, black suspenders hanging at the sides of his black suited legs, and his black shirt tucked in, with a mint green tie going down the front of his chest. Sitting in holsters below his armpits were the same weapons that his leader had, and his sleeves were rolled up his forearms while his hands remained gloved. Standing behind the couch was Jung Hoseok- or Hobi, or nicknamed, J-Hope- and he was leaning against the rounded edge. His hair was tinted silver and wisped with a light pink 'rose' highlighted, brown locks. Below that was a black undercut, and all that hidden below his page boy cap. His suit wasn't dark, compared to that of his two hyungs, but rather it was a pristine white hue, with a Champaign colored button up and a black tie accenting it. His hands were hidden in brown leather gloves, and his black suspenders held their own small pistols below the armpits.
Namjoon turned his eyes over to the younger three, his lips curling back slightly. Kim Taehyung- V- was sitting with his back flat against the comfortable couch, and his dark orbs flickered up from his calloused palms and to his leader. His plump lip slipped below his upper teeth, gnawing on them very gently while his light brown locks cascaded and tickled at the edges of his ear tips. His white fedora sat tilted on his head, and grey button up was tucked below a black vest, and adorned with black slacks. Sitting beside him was Park Jimin, called Jimin by women who absolutely adored him. His light pink hair was slicked back as well, and his plump lips chapped and cracked. His black button up shirt was unbuttoned to his chest, and his white suspenders hung at his sides, with a white fedora also adorning his head. The youngest, Jeon Jungkook was standing at the end of the couch, his eyes wide and dark brown hair wild. His red button up hit at his collar bone, with a black tie adorning his torso and a black, pinstripe suit pants adoring his lower body from the hips down. He wore suspenders below his black vest, and his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms.
Beside Jungkook were large velvet curtains that were drawn close, and natural sunlight only came from Jin's window that the light dared to enter through. Silence rang through the air, the usual expected arrival of your body to saunter through the door was gone.
"They made her a fuckin' Broad," Kim Namjoon snarled out at the group, his eyes glinting with fire.
Immediately Suga popped up, body lurching forward and a band around his left bicep stressed as his muscles rippled. "Then we make sure they're over the fence. Hell- we make sure them Macks get a taste of a Mexican stand off!"
Kim Namjoon raised a hand, holding up the hot headed man as he slowly bristled.
"But it aint the Doll's problem either. Didn't they says that we were a wrong gee?" J-Hope's unusually cold voice perked up, sending shivers down the backs of those who listened.
"Yea," Namjoon growled out as he shifted his weight and turned to look at them.
"Our reputation isn't as important as the Doll's! If she's sent off to the Macks and lives as a Broad then we have no hopes of ever seeing 'er again!" Jungkook cried out in dismay as he ruffled his hair.
A low mumble of agreement sweeps through the group, Namjoon narrowing his eyes at the floor while he rubbed his lower lip in thought. Finally deciding, a quiet sigh escaped his lips as a dark aura renewed amongst the mobsters. "Then lets stop Belchin about it. Grab your Bennies; we got some men to throw over the fence." With that, he reached behind on his desk, and twirled his black fedora up and placed it on top of his crown.