Shira reaches for a more pinkish-red wig with bangs that swept to the side. Stifling a yawn, she neatly places it over her real hair, tucking in the strands that peek out.  
 

Even though it had been a long day, duty called. Shira sighs as she uses light makeup to disguise the undereye bags that were starting to form from a few days of too little sleep. Today’s mission was to just check over the main nightclub and watch from above, which was easy enough.

Jiyong even let her dance if she wanted, if she was going to be careful enough about her identity. And it had been a tiring enough few days that she would take him up on that offer. So she drew on her artful makeup that doubled as a disguise. With a careful hand, she traced the outline across the bridge of her nose and her upper cheekbones and curses, leaning closer to the mirror to try to get it perfect.

And she gives up within ten minutes and yells, “Jiyong!”

The door opens within seconds, revealing a Jiyong who was chewing on a piece of bread who nearly starts choking when his eyes fall on Shira’s face. “I thought I taught you how to do your makeup properly years ago.”

Instead of complaining, twists into a grimace. “Help?”

He sighs, pulling up a seat across from her and picking up a spare brush and sponge, delicately drawing on a mask of makeup. A real mask would have been much more practical, but it could also be ripped off and exposed, and Shira knew better than to take risks like that. Besides, there is an aesthetic component that she valued.

With a spray to set the black, drawn-on mask, they sit back and Shira glances quickly in the mirror. “I don’t know how you do that.” She mumbles, looking at the dark black solid shape of a mask with delicate patterns stretching to her cheekbones and just above her eyebrows. She was unrecognizable.

“One day you’ll figure it out,” Jiyong’s smile is gentle as he pats the top of her head, not unlike a brother who was taking care of his stupid younger sister. Shira growls and swats his hand away, making Jiyong chuckle. “You almost ready to head down?”

The small flat above the main nightclub was their meeting spot most nights where they received their assignments and duties. The other floors which were either underground or above the small flat had a variety of functions: living space, training rooms, meeting rooms, storage, and more. In essence, the nightclub was home.

Shira gets up from her chair, shaking out her wig and straightening the dress with thin straps which extended down to mid-thigh to hug her curves. It would make her fit in with any other club-goer so she could make rounds and check on the club functions without looking too out of place.

“Yeah, might as well.” Shira brushes past Jiyong, heading towards the soundproof door to the hidden balcony that acted as a method of watching the club below.

“Shira, you on duty too?” Seungri doesn’t bother to turn away from the rail as the door opens, recognizing the sound of Shira’s heels as she steps out.

“Yeah,” She murmurs, fingers wrapping around the barrier that kept them from toppling below into the VIP section and the dancefloor. “You going to hit the floor?”

“I will if you do,” He yawns. “Though I probably won’t stay long. Bangtan should be coming to pay for our services either today or tomorrow. I imagine today, because they’re new and they want to talk about the method of delivery.”

Shira flashes a grin. “Did you see the six o’ clock news?”

Seungri shakes his head out of disbelief. “Yeah, and the police have no idea how it happened and there’s no video footage of the gang being there. Seunghyun is too good.”

Shira tilts her head to the side, watching the writhing masses of minor gang members and various other people from the Korean underworld mixed with unsuspecting clubgoers. “I wouldn’t be so sure that Seunghyun did all of it. After all, the vehicle for transportation of Bangtan wasn’t caught, and they were sitting in the parking lot near the warehouse.”

“So Bangtan has a tech guy?”

“Probably.”

The two sit in comfortable silence until Seungri’s phone vibrates. “Hello? They’re here already? Okay we’ll go get them.”

Seungri hangs up and Shira sighs. “Bangtan shouldn’t come this early in the night if they don’t want their covers to be blown. Amateurs.”

He laughs her statement, “Then you can go get them and bring them to our meeting room.”

“Fine. I will.” Shira turns away, not listening to Seungri’s protests and goes through the doorway, heading downstairs towards the backdoor entrance to the VIP section, Seungri following closely behind. From the VIP section, she nods at the security guard who lets her through after seeing Seungri.

“Wait, I wasn’t serious.” Seungri groans. “You’re going to play with them, aren’t you?”

A smirk flashes across Shira’s face, “What’s life without a little fun and danger?” Her black dress contrasts with her skin under the dimmed yet colorful lights of the club, and she pushes towards the entrance, only to see some girls trying to sweep them on to the dancefloor.

“You could put them out of their misery,” Seungri mutters into her ear, watching Park Jimin politely refuse a girl with a smile.

“Or, I could get one to dance without them knowing who I really am, until you take them to the meeting room.”

“This is a bad idea,” Seungri shakes his head. “This is such a bad idea. I’m in.”

Shira grins at that. Seunghyun was typically her partner in crime, but Seungri made a fine substitution at times.

“So how are we going to do this?” Seungri flattens against the wall to prevent himself from being seen, pulling Shira with him.

“Patience. We pretend that we don’t care and we’re coming for them later, so they start to act like normal clubgoers,” Shira squints slightly as Min Yoongi mutters into Kim Namjoon’s ear. “They’ll loosen up, dance with a few girls but probably won’t drink, and then I’ll swoop in and act like hot sh*t.”

“And then a few minutes of that, and I grab them for their payment and stuff.” Seun