Megan Morse made her way down the dark street, lit only by the light of the streetlamps and from the businesses that were still open. She was passing by the famed Hotel Sherman, which was very much alive inside. From the window she could see people sitting or standing in the lobby, no doubt looking for a vacancy. The street itself wasn't completely devoid of people, there were a few here and there, but mostly everyone was inside, wherever the parties were held, kicking their feet to the new Jazz craze that arose almost overnight. And it was there were she was headed, one of her friends had invited her to a party she was holding and - with permission from her uncle of course - she accepted.

Her heels clacked on the sidewalk, the loose ends of her sash swishing this way and that. She was quite fond of her dress and glad that her uncle had agreed to purchase it for her. She didn't know how he was going to react to her liking of the new flapper fashions. He was used to seeing the longer, more conservative dresses of the Victorian era and not the new bolder fashions that swept the nation. To her surprise, he had reacted better than she had expected and had no qualms about letting her divulge in her new found tastes. Of course, it came with a condition; she would be allowed to follow the new fad, as long as she refrained from the more unsavory practices of the flappers. Megan agreed and would stay true to her word. Her new dress was a sleeveless, shapeless little number (which was all the rage these days) of a light powdered blue color with a gold sash tied at an angle just a little below her hips. It dropped to about her knees and on her feet were black T bar shoes with low heels. She topped the look with a white cloche hat that rested over her now short red hair. A touch of rouge for her cheeks and lips and she was ready for a night of dancing and merriment.

She came across a break in the street, an alleyway and stopped for a second, debating on whether or not to take the shortcut. Megan decided she would and turned the corner, delving into the darkness of the alley. The lamps offered little light as she walked in deeper, but she kept her eyes focused on the other side and her thoughts on the festivities she would indulge in later. Then she heard steps and immediately stopped, her senses on alert. They stopped when she stopped and as she waited she was only met with silence, save for her breathing. Megan smiled to herself for being so paranoid and continued on her way. Once more she heard the footsteps and was about to pay them no mind, until she heard a voice call out.

"Hey!"

Instead of stopping, she quickened her pace, not bothering to look back. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest.

"I said 'hey'!"

This time she broke into a run, the sound of her heels hitting the pavement echoed in the alleyway. She chanced a quick glance behind her and to her shock, a dark figure was chasing her, although there was considerable distance between them. Unfortunately they were almost catching up to her. She forced herself to run faster, hand clutching her hat. She noticed a small light up ahead, signaling the presence of a door. She ran to that door, up the three small steps that led to it and turned the knob. The door wouldn't budge, so she desperately pulled, panting with exertion. She didn't dare look to see where the person chasing her was and instead tugged harder. Finally, after one last pull, the door wrenched open and she quickly stepped inside, slamming it close behind her.

Megan leaned back against the door, hand to her chest as she caught her breath. From now on, she was never going into an alleyway alone. At least now she was somewhat safe, but she had no clue where she was. The place she had entered was dark and seemingly empty, the floor beneath her shoes felt hard. She expected someone to flip a switch and demand to know what she was doing, or a hand to grab her from the dark, but no such thing happened. Megan let out a relieved sigh, then gasped as the door opened behind her and fell back. Someone's arm caught and steadied her. She looked up, eyes wide with fear and she finally saw who her pursuer. A young boy, about her height, with emerald eyes and short red hair.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Megan nodded, unable to say anything, half expecting him to pull out a weapon and demand she hand over all her valuables, or worse.

"Sorry for scaring you like that," the boy said, grinning. "I was wondering what you were doing out there all alone."

He helped her up and walked past her, into the room. With the small amount of light that filtered in, she could make out that she was some sort of small storage area. She could make out crates stacked on top of each other littered all over the room, and a few shelves on the wall filled with tools and other items. The boy found the cord of an over head swinging lamp and pulled, bathing the room in light. Now that she could see him clearly, she noticed he was wearing a pair of black pants held up by suspenders and a light yellow shirt with a bright red tie. On his head he had a flat cap covering part of his hair. He walked back to her, closing the door and leading her further inside.

"Hi, my name's Wally. Wally West, nice to meet'cha."

"Megan. Wh-where exactly are you taking me?"

She leaned back a little and eyed him warily. He seemed nice and so far he wasn't doing anything to hurt her, but something about him seemed odd.

"I'm treating a lovely lady to a drink," he said. He motioned for her to follow him. When he noticed she wasn't following, he turned and looked at her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm...supposed to be at a party," she said, taking a careful step back.

Wally grinned and walked up to her, taking Megan's hand - much to her surprise - and tugging her along, out the door on the opposite wall. She was surprised to find that the small room led into the back area of Hotel Sherman's lobby. None of the guests inside nor the staff noticed their arrival, they were too busy engrossed in their own conversations.

"I'll show you where the real party is," he said and began leading her up the large, winding steps that led to the hotel's upper floors.

"I really don't think I should. My friend is going to start worrying where I am," she protested, trying to wriggle her hand away, but he held fast.

"Aw, come on! Once you see, you're not gonna want to leave."

When they reached the top, he kept going, passing hotel guests and staff along the way. Every now and again, he'd be greeted and wave back. He finally stopped in front of two mahogany doors, in front of one of them was a plaque that read 'Ballroom A'. There were two men dressed in suits on either side of the doors, hands behind their backs. They took one look at Wally and Megan, and rolled their eyes.

"Hi guys. She's a friend of mine," Wally said to both.

The men nodded and one of them took the handle and opened the door for them. Wally thanked them and led Megan inside.

She was greeted, not by a simple ballroom, but by an entertainment establishment. Chairs and tables (most of which were occupied) were placed along the walls, leaving enough room for people to dance the night away on the makeshift dance floor as jazz streamed from a live band, perched atop a stage placed again the wall in the far corner. On the left, was a bar, the shelves behind were filled with various bottles of marked alcohol and empty glasses ready to be filled. A few bar stools were already taken and the bartender - a pretty young girl with finger waved blonde hair pulled into a chingon - served the customers. There were even a few waiters walking around with trays filled with drinks and snacks.

"What is this place?" Megan asked as she looked around. Obviously the door plaque was just a guise, to hide what was really behind the doors.

"Welcome to the Valentine Club," Wally said with a huge grin. "Most prominent speakeasy in all of Chicago."

A/N: For a while, I've been wanting to do a story set in the 20s. Don't know how I came up with using the YJ cast, but anyways. Of course, the story isn't going to be 100% historically accurate (for example, the Hotel Sherman never housed a speakeasy withing its rooms), but I'll try to stick as close as I can.

For those who don't know; A speakeasy is an establishment where illegal alcohol is sold. In 1917 the 18th amendment was proposed, which would ban the sale, manufacture, and transport of alcohol in the US. The amendment was passed in 1919 and put into effect in 1920. It was believed that the prohibition would improve the health and well-being the American people (less crime, corruption, better hygiene, etc.), but it had the opposite effect as organized crime grew corruption continued to flourish. Speakeasies began to pop up, working in secret to keep selling alcohol and often bribing officers to stay in business.

Any reviews, concerns, criticisms, you know where they go.