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The air around your apartment had grown stale in your absence, dust had collected on the bare surfaces covering what little you had out in a thin layer of grey.

"Well, I may as well make this place look somewhat habitable," you muttered to yourself as you sat down your keys on the table in the hallway and walked toward the cleaning caddy under the kitchen sink. The various bottles lay fresh and untouched. You hadn't had to use any cleaning products in any of your previous bases, you hadn't been at any long enough to need to clean them. The irony of this did not escape you. You had used almost every other chemical at your disposal during your time in hiding, just not for cleaning purposes. Chemical warfare was your trained specialty after all.

After an agent completes the Pit, the Academy rewards them with 1 year specialty training in an area of the agents choice, and you chose chemical warfare. Something about the precision of it was thrilling to you. Everything else in your line of work was messy, uncertain, but the chemicals required precision and you had full control over their effect. It was one of the only things that you could control in your life which is why it appealed to you so much, you got to make the decisions for once. Of course all of the specialty training was done in isolation. There were concerns among the seniors of the Academy that if agents knew each others strengths they could be used against them in the field and turned into their biggest weakness. This did make sense and in fact you were quite thankful for it. If someone did try to get into your apartment the less they knew about your chemical traps the better.

For extra security, you lined the doors and windows with small tubes of narcotic gas. The unique blend of chemicals rendered your opponent paralysed for about an hour. Enough time to escape. The lids were tied with string that connected to the door handle and window levers so when pulled, the string contracted and opened the lids to the jars. A simple but highly effective system that you were quite frankly proud of. Carefully avoiding these jars, you dusted around your apartment. The thick layer of dust was now non existent and the smell of bleach fumigated every room.

Satisfied with your job, you made your way to your room and plonked yourself down on the bed.

"Right, now who is this Park Jimin?" you muttered, hoping that google would answer.

Nothing.

No social media, no photos, no results.

"Huh."

There was no denying that this was unusual. The average citizen had a prominent digital imprint, even if they weren't aware of it. But not Jimin.

Why?

A million possibilities raced through your mind. You really enjoyed being Lisa and thought you could befriend some of the boys as Tae seemed nice enough and he treated them like family. With the unexpected change in management and odd behaviour from Tae's friends, you had already hit two strikes in your system, a third and you'd have to relocate. Perhaps you were overthinking it. Believe it or not, there are people who survive today without social media, you yourself were one of them. Not that this was your choice, if you had any digital footprint they would find you.

What about Tae?

Nothing.

Jungkook?

Nada.

Namjoon?

Not a sausage.

Yoongi?

Zilch. This one wasn't that surprising, he didn't seem the kind to care for social media.

But the pattern couldn't be ignored, not to you, this was too weird. You needed to think. What were the chances of 5 men in the twenty first century having no social media presence? It was almost impossible, the chances of all five not having a single result was peculiar. It looked almost like it was deliberate.

Deception || PJMWhere stories live. Discover now