The Agent

1

Brendon hated being an FBI agent. Sure, it was always his dream to be one, but he expected more action, adventure, thrills, exploding cars and chase scenes. Instead, he did other agent's office work at his desk all day. He spent his days at work filing reports and getting coffee for Special Agent Weekes, who tried to make Brendon's life a living hell. It was the same thing every damn day; Put on a fake smile and pretend he's happy to be there-

"Urie" Brendon snapped out of his thoughts and looked up.

"Good afternoon, Weekes." Dallon smiled at him with those perfect white teeth of his that made Brendon want to punch them out. His eyes were hidden behind dark round sunglass, pointless since they were inside. He must've just come back from a mission Brendon wasn't on, yet again. Brendon reluctantly handed him his coffee.

"Smith wants to see you in his office."

"Me? Why?"

Dallon shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "I don't know." He made a disgusted face. "You put too much sugar in here." He tossed the cup in the garbage. Then why don't you fucking do it yourself? Brendon thought to himself. He contemplated saying it out loud but settled for a simple eye roll and stood up. He smoothed his tie and started walking to Smith's office. Dallon put a hand on his shoulder as they walked.

"What's the worst thing that could happen, Urie? Losing your job? I'm sure the office would miss you loads."

"Mr. Urie." Chief Spencer Smith stood at the door leading to his office.

"Good luck, Urie," Dallon said, turning on his heels.

"You too, Agent Weekes." Dallon turned around again and Brendon smirked as his face turned white. Both men stepped into the office and sat at the huge round table. Spencer flipped over a huge white board to reveal a photo map, each photo connected by lines all surrounding and leading to one picture in the middle.

"Sir, that's my case," Dallon said.

"I know." He turned to Brendon. "Ready for your first case, Urie?" Brendon's heart started racing.

"Yes, of cours-"

"You're taking the case away fro me?" Dallon interrupted.

"No, we're just adding Brendon to the team."

"What do you need from me, sir?" Brendon asked.

"We need you to go undercover."

Dallon chuckled. "Him? Seriously?" Brendon glared at across the table at him. Ignoring them, Spencer picked up a pointer and pointed to the picture in the middle. It was a young man, probably around Brendon's age, with a messy brown hair and a gray streak, the brown eyes to match, and a crooked smile.

"That is George Ryan Ross III, preferably just Ryan Ross."

Brendon looked at the board. "Are those the Chelsea Pines murders?"

"Yes. We're not sure if Mr. Ross is the one committing the murders of if he's the mastermind."

"Then why don't you take him in for questioning or arrest him or something?" Dallon and Spencer looked at each other.

"We don't have enough evidence connecting him to these crimes," Spencer explained.

"No evidence, actually," Dallon added.

"That's what you need me for." Spencer nodded. "I'm in."

Dallon laughed. "Don't you want to hear more details before you jump in?"

Brendon crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. "I'm in."

A/N: I have like 9 chapters written of this so YAY ok bye