Chapter 3

The plan had been set irreversibly in motion. There were to be no more delays and no more planning. The eggs were in the scramble, so to speak, as the pop whore hunters moved swiftly in pursuit of their goal and the underground Jonas fan club moved just as swiftly to stop them. All across America, preteen girls sobbed uncontrollably into their pillows, partly out of anguish at the death of their favorite mega-hottie, and partly because many of their respective preteen brothers had kicked them in the ovaries as a way of adding injury to insult.

Meanwhile, much revelry was had amongst most male Americans, particularly those between the ages of 12 and 25. Their drunken, anti-Jonas-themed partying belied the grim sense of purpose that gripped their unknown heroes.

Half an hour had passed since the death of Nick Jonas, and considerably less since the discovery of his body. The trappings of the information age set the stage for the barrage of media attention the pop whore hunters were soon to receive.

The trick now was to abduct Joe and Kevin simultaneously without getting caught. As luck- or rather, good planning- would have it, entry to the Jonas Brothers concert was now closed off to everyone, and the building where they were performing was now guarded at every entrance. With no one to notify those inside the building of Nick's death, and no one to tell those outside that the concert was still in progress, the second abduction squad had a fairly simple task ahead of them.

In order to handle twice as many targets, the squad was twice as large as the one that had abducted Nick, sporting twelve members. As their predecessors had, they made their way down the alleyway into the blind spot that lead to the backstage area. As expected, they were stopped at the door by a guard in a black suit.

"Hold it right there, kids," he said in a deep, toneless voice. "The concert's closed to all comers. You wanna see the Jonases perform, you gotta do it some other day."

Without saying a word, a tall Asian boy named Carl withdrew a weapon from his jacket and shot a tranquilizer dart into the guard's neck. As they dragged the unconscious man away from the door, the agents mused on the irony that a Jonas Brothers' best chance for survival was not the police, nor their guards, but a bunch of teenage girls.

Had the boys planned their attack a bit better, they might have realized that these girls would most likely have thought to send a team to watch the concert through to its end. Unfortunately, they had no idea how many squads their enemy possessed, and did not anticipate the one that was currently screaming uncontrollably in the front row…

The Brothers were playing a new song at the moment- or, rather, the 'secondary' band was playing for them while the Jonases themselves struggled through a few beginner-level chords. As the hunters spread out backstage, looking for cover and keeping an eye out for security, they respectively settled into a few choice spots, crouching under tables and squeezing into closets. With any luck, the band wouldn't bring a few specially chosen girls backstage to talk about purity rings as they sometimes did… right?

"…Alright. I'm going to remove the blindfold now."

Krystal saw the boy's face appear in front of her, then move away. After taking her out of the hotel at gunpoint, he had led her to a car with tinted windows, in which he had taken her weapons, blindfolded her, and tied her up. After a long ride to someplace quiet, with asphalt, dirt, gravel, and grass comprising the ground in various places, and an air that carried no smell in particular, she had been led down a hallway with hardwood flooring, down a set of stairs to a basement with carpeting. Now, tied to a chair in said basement, she could see a television; a recliner chair; a beanbag chair; a CD rack; a doorway leading into the bathroom; small windows, about eight feet off the ground…

"-Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're scanning the entire room to figure out what might be useful to you when you make your stunning escape. Well, I'm sure you'd pose a real threat to me in hand-to-hand combat, which is why I'm not going to give you the opportunity to leave that chair."

Krystal ignored her captor and continued to scan the room. "As you are no doubt aware," continued the boy, "my friends and I are planning to kill the Jonas Brothers and blow up Disneyland. I understand that you and your friends think they can stop us."

Again, no response. The girl was now twisting herself to the left as far as she could in order to extend her peripheral vision to the area behind and to the left of her chair. Patiently, the boy went on, ignoring the fact that she was ignoring him: "Somehow, you knew which hotel we were planning to take Nick Jonas to. How did you know this?"

"We hacked into the hotel's website," she replied indifferently, "along with a number of others. We cross-referenced every reservation with what we knew about your organization, and- based on a few isolated sightings of your agents- decided that there was a strong likelihood of your using that hotel."

The boy smiled. "I'm Sam, by the way. You?"

"Krystal. How are you planning to blow up Disneyland?"

He looked away from her and began to walk slowly towards a different part of the room as he answered her. "Obviously, I can't afford to give much away… but I feel we won't exactly be entitled to credit for the explosion."

"So you've stolen some sort of powerful explosive."

His smile widened. "Sure, whatever you like," he said to her, though this answer didn't seem to make much sense.

Krystal didn't doubt Sam's words about not giving her a chance to escape. Of course, what she didn't know was that he still hadn't informed the hunters of her capture. Doing so would put her in great danger- the kind of danger she already thought herself to be in. The smug sense of power over a defeated enemy was purely an act on Sam's part; though his sense of loyalty to the cause was even now urging him to tell the others, he couldn't bring himself to do so. Somehow, it just didn't feel like the right thing to do.

Doug Sullivan was high. It was only proper, after the sort of thing he'd done. Really, he had a moral obligation to make a public appearance in an altered state of consciousness, after doing something as awesome as what he had done. I, he mused to himself as he was surrounded by news reporters on a crowded sidewalk where armed guards had been escorting him, am the strongest man in the earth.

He didn't remember how he had gotten the stuff… but he had, and just in time for his live interview. He straightened up, swaying noticeably, as a blonde female reporter approached him.

"Mr. Sullivan," she began, giving him the respect he deserved, "before you go on trial, is there anything you would like to say to the American public about your atrocious crime?"

He reflected for a few moments. "Yes," he said, slurring his speech somewhat. "There is. When I was banging that Nick faggot, I was like, 'Hey, man. Doesn't this make me gay?' …and it really made me think, y'know? Like, I think a lot of guys have moments where they question their own sexuality, only they aren't comfortable talking about that questioning, cause it makes them lose their confidence and shit. Me, though- I looked at Nick Jonas all naked and squirming all over the floor and shit, and I thought, 'This isn't about me. This about something bigger.' You know? So I sucked it in and I just- I pictured Jessica Alba in my mind. I went for it, man. I just went for it… and you know what? It felt amazing."

Several million jaws had just dropped. No one had thought to cut Doug off at any point. He was swaying even more now, intoxicated by a rich, overpowering sense of accomplishment. Bright lights began to form before his eyes. As he opened his mouth, filling with a sense of ecstasy and wonder, the light grew brighter and brighter, to the point where it became all he could see…

"…could be stopped by the police any second. You saw those reporters… I mean, seriously- this isn't rescue; it's suicide!"

Doug awoke to these words, and realized that he was lying down and had a throbbing pain in the side of his head. Reflexively moving his hand to it, he discovered a large bump, slightly raw and wet. I fell, he pondered. The thought made him giggle. In response, all eyes fell upon him.

As he looked around at his fellow hunters, who were seated on long seats covering either side of the room, he noticed some rumbling around him. I'm in a van, he thought. "What's so funny?" asked Stan, a tall white kid. "We just saved your ass."

"Probably not the best plan of action," muttered another hunter, further away. "Now the whole country knows you weren't acting alone."

Stan stiffened. "Excuse me?? Let me tell you something: my brother's in the military and they have a saying in the military. Know what it is?"

"-Don't ask, don't tell?"

"What?! No! …It's no man left behind. We're strongest if we operate as a team, and that means we can't just abandon someone who's fallen into enemy hands."

For a moment, there was silence. Then Cameron, an Asian kid, spoke: "Well, whether it was the right thing to do or not, it's over and done with. Doug is back in our hands and, more than anything else, we need to focus on hiding from the cops… and that includes pretty much every cop in the country."

Fred, a blonde boy, looked up. "I've got it," he said suddenly. "I know where we can go."

"I rock you slowly,/ You are my only,/ I wanna hold you in my arms,/ Yeah, hold on to me, baby,/ Good night."

The cheering escalated as the Jonas Brothers minus Nick finished their last song for the night. The omnipresent swarm of screaming young girls pressed in towards Joe and Kevin Jonas as they backed away, shouting "Thank you! Good night, everyone!" into the microphone before making a hasty exit.

As they walked down a hallway, away from the stage, they noticed that yet more teenage girls awaited them- about ten of them. These girls, who had looked up suddenly when Joe had opened the door the hallway, were now running excitedly towards their heroes.

"Hey, Kevin! Hey, Joe!"

"You guys are soo awesome!"

"Come backstage with us!"

Joe and Kevin were very confused by this. How and when had these girls gotten backstage? Wasn't the guard supposed to prevent that sort of thing? Or had they gotten backstage from the stage itself? If so, how on Earth had they done it without being seen?

Whatever the case, this little surprise probably just meant a few extra autographs. Just a drop in the bucket of carpal tunnel syndrome, really- not that Joe or Kevin knew what carpal tunnel syndrome was. As Kevin began to extract a pen from his pocket however, one girl said, "Oh, that's okay," shaking her head hyperactively. "We've gotten your autographs before. Photocopies, actually, but… well, forget it. Just come backstage with us, okay??"

Even more confused now, Joe and Kevin looked at one another, and then at the girls. Hesitantly, they both nodded, wondering where this was going. Hopefully, it wasn't going to take too long. They had photo shoots booked, wardrobes to renew, friends to text. One of the girls was now rushing to the door at the end of the hallway. She tossed her head back and grinned excitedly at them as she opened it, inviting them- oddly enough- into their own backstage.

As she turned to look through the door she had just opened, there was a loud bang and a sudden streak of red from her head. As she slumped against the door frame, emotional shock struck the two brothers, along with a mental realization that she was dead. Meanwhile, the other girls sprung to action immediately.

"Get Joe and Kevin back onstage!! Close the door; get three on it!! Now!!"

As a swarm of small hands efficiently dragged him backwards, it occurred to Kevin that something else was wrong- not only had a young girl just died, but it looked as though the same fate was about to befall the three girls moving towards the door.

As Kevin brushed away the girls' hands, forceful though they were, and began to make his way towards the door in what genuinely felt like slow motion. Joe, for whatever reason, did not do the same, and was dragged backwards back onstage.

Whatever was going on, Kevin realized, those girls were putting themselves in incredible danger, and he knew he couldn't just stand by and watch them die. Just as the door slammed shut, he heard pounding coming from the other side of it. Completely blindsided by his attempt to get away from him, the girls who had been dragging him back were stunned for a few seconds as he moved purposefully up to the door, stopping just short of the three girls holding it shut with all their might.

"Stand back," he said calmly but loudly. The door heaved somewhat as the three girls in front of it were surprised by Kevin's voice. It splintered slightly in a few places from the beating it was receiving from both sides.

"W-what??" stammered a girl who was low to the ground, with her whole body braced upwards against the door.

"Stand back," repeated Kevin. "You all have so much to live for. It's me they want. If you try to stop whoever's out there, they'll just go through you to get to me."

Having recovered from their respective initial shocks, the girls holding the door stood their ground, while the three girls charged with escorting Kevin from the building had now caught up with him and were tugging at him, trying to get him to budge. He stumbled a little, but braced himself as the girl below the door was doing, and pulled back away from them. "It's Kevin Jonas!!" shouted a male voice from the other side of the door. "Don't shoot!"

Perfect, thought Kevin to himself, a moment before ramming his entire body against the unoccupied left side of the door, smashing it apart and tumbling through to the other side…

Mexico, thought Doug to himself as he sat alone in a small room in the back of a trailer. I'm on my way to Mexico.

The trailer was a recent acquisition, hijacked by force of arms. Along their way to the border, the boys had called in various favors to get the police off their trail- fake reports, petty crimes as distractions… even direct obstruction of the officers themselves. Surprisingly, it seemed that no one had bothered to send helicopters after them. Maybe the adults in this country hate the Jonas Brothers as much as we do, thought Doug as he pondered this. Maybe people don't overvalue celebrities after all.

The trailer was now making its way down interstate 5, in the direction of Tijuana. So much had happened since this whole mess had been set in motion… and what a mess it was. That aspect of it had been unavoidable.

As Doug was thinking this, his friend, Cameron, entered the room. "Hey," greeted Cameron as he took a seat next to Doug. "Hey," replied Doug.

Doug stared at his feet for a moment. "Thanks for, like, rescuing me and stuff," he mumbled.

"No problem," replied Cameron. "No man left behind, right?" Doug nodded unconsciously. "Anyways," continued Cameron, "it looks like we can keep you safe after all. We started so close to the border, it seems unlikely they'll have much ready for us when we get there. I mean, it's been easy enough so far."

"Well, we've kind of had a lot of help…" Doug couldn't help feeling somewhat guilty. Of course, he hadn't asked to be rescued… but then again, he'd also never asked to be returned to the cops- nor did he feel inclined to ask. If so much manpower was being spent on delivering him to safety, what was going to happen to the mission? What was going to happen to the three remaining Jonas Brothers?

"Look… don't sweat it, all right?" said Cameron, sensing Doug's discomfort. "You're a hero now. You've earned that kind of help, and more. The only ones against you are stupid preteen girls and the cops… and as for the cops, I don't think their hearts are really in it, you know?" More unconscious nodding.

The two boys sat in silence for some time, brooding on all that had transpired, and all that had yet to transpire. Surely, just crossing the border wouldn't bring an end to their troubles… no, this daring escape was just the beginning.

Krystal was now free to walk around. Of course, Sam had made sure to take every precaution possible before untying her- he'd removed a jump rope and various cords that might've been tied into nooses; he'd prevented her from drowning herself by removing and throwing away the plug from the bath and shower combo, effectively making it just a shower; he'd removed every small piece of metal from the room he could find, with the hopes of keeping her from intentionally electrocuting herself with an electrical socket. In short, he'd done everything he could think of to keep Krystal from hurting or killing either him or herself.

Krystal, for her part, took it all in stride, having expected such wise moves from such a worthy opponent. She paced often, spent some time on the treadmill, paced some more, pretended to eat a sandwich from the fridge, and paced back and forth across the largest room in the basement area. It seemed there was little she could do, other than await the inevitable torture at the hands of her captor. Why hadn't he done it when she was tied up? No doubt, he intended to build up suspense, make her dread it as much as possible so that the experience was as terrifying as possible when it actually came.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. Whipping her entire body around to face the source of the sound, she held perfectly still by force of habit as Sam unlocked the door at the top of the stairs, opened it, stepped through, closed the door, locked it again, and made his way down, his right hand holding the infernal device used to activate her electric shock collar. "Good morning, Krystal," he said complacently to her.

"Hardly," she spat- for not only was there nothing good about it; she also doubted it was morning. She hadn't been in this windowless basement that long… had she? "You going to torture me or what? That was one of the reasons you kidnapped me, right? You want me to tell you what I know?" Her whole body was shaking, her fists balled, her teeth grinding uncontrollably as she seethed internally at both her captor and her predicament.

Sam put on a fake malevolent grin. Torture… she had to think she was going to be tortured, or she would sense his weakness and take advantage of it. This he knew with grim certainty. Yet… he knew with equal certainty that he could not bring himself to torture her for information. She was so young, and- as long as the shock collar was functioning and attached to her neck- so helpless. She didn't deserve that sort of degradation, that cold, stinking fear. So… what to do? He paced around her with a sense of dread inside him and an expression of malice on his face, as though he were trying to decide precisely what instrument of torture would bring her the most pain. She glared stubbornly at him from a feral stance in the middle of the room, daring him to do his worst. His worst… it would be pathetic, no doubt. An insult to the noble art of torture, no less.

A new possibility occurred to him. He ceased his pacing. "Krystal," he said to her softly, "why do you feel such loyalty to such an untalented band? Most girls your age have outgrown any interest in the Jonas Brothers. You're so sharp… you must be, to have become a field agent. Why is it that you choose to protect something so… so inferior to yourself?"

Krystal was momentarily stunned by the compliment. Then, she resumed her defiant attitude, and spat, "Inferior?! The Jonas Brothers are the biggest deal there is!! You don't appreciate the beauty of pop music, because you just assume that different always means better!" Sam showed no response to this assertion. "The Jonas Brothers represent a way of life," continued Krystal. "The way they're always in the spotlight, the way they're always surrounded by thousands of screaming fans… Stuff like that is, like, a celebration of a scene so popular that it has the power to connect millions of people. Millions!"

Krystal took a moment to compose herself, awaiting Sam's counterargument. Sam, for his part, wasn't interested in countering Krystal's argument so much as keeping her safe. Not only did he have to keep her safely trapped here while himself maintaining an air mercilessness; he also had to ensure neither his organization nor hers would uncover this safe haven. That wouldn't be too hard… would it? Naturally, both parties would investigate the absence of Sam's and Krystal's bodies… but to what extent? After all, as Sam recalled, the success of the mission mattered more than any individual life…

but not more than hers, added a small voice in his head.