Fanfic: Black Ties and White Shirts [1/6]
Title: Black Ties and White Shirts
Media: Fanfic
Author: longlost10
Rating: PG-13 [warning for violence]
Characters: Kurt and Blaine (Special appearances from Sue and Warblers)
Genre: Action/Adventure
Spoilers: N/A
Word Count: 4,048
Summary: A series of mysterious disappearances around the Ohio region provokes the CIA to send in agents to investigate. Kurt Hummel, a junior agent from when he was younger, is chosen to go on the mission.
Additional Notes: Inspired by these two gifs (one and two). Unbeta'd.
“That was great, guys! The best go yet!” Blaine’s grin was nearly too big for his face as the Warblers broke out of their formation and started to gather their school things. Thoughts of homework barely penetrated his mind as he threw his calculus and history books into his tan messenger bag and threw it over his shoulder. He was still busting with energy and confidence. Blaine spun on his heel and when his bag landed gently on his thigh, he spread his arms wide, smiling broadly at the Warblers in front of him. “We have sectionals in the bag!”
Cheers broke out through the senior commons as they slowly dispersed, destined for different places on school grounds. Jeff approached Blaine and clapped his friend on the shoulder. ”You nailed that performance of California Gurls.” He laughed as they started to leave the room and walk down the hallway. “Between that and Get the Party Started, we’ll be sure to go to nationals this year. Good thing too, with you being a senior and all. It’s your last shot.”
Blaine gave a small laugh as they turned a corner and walked into the courtyard. A shiver ran up his spine as they walked into the cool fall air. “Yeah... I suppose it’s a little sad. But you know me.” He said putting his hands into his jacket to stay warm. “I always put my heart and soul into Katy Perry and Pink.”
Jeff laughed and paused for a minute, swinging his backpack off of one shoulder so he could look through it properly. “Oh no... I left my history notebook back in my locker. You go on; I’ll meet you back at the apartment.” He said with a small frown. Blaine nodded as his friend turned around and walked back into the building. The apartment that his friend was talking about was the one that he and a few of the Warblers shared.
It made sense for Blaine, Jeff, Trent and Nick to room together. Especially since they all used to board at the school, but going into their senior year, housing got expensive. Getting their parents to sign a lease for them made it easy for them to eat healthier, exercise more and sing often (now their harmonies were killer).
Sure, they got some noise complaints sometimes, but who cared, really? Between the money pulled in from their parents and Trent’s part-time job, they paid their rent on time and the manager liked them.
They were hardly an ordinary group of kids their age, anyway. No wild, drunken parties every weekend; just loud, beautiful music being sung every night, putting the kids in 3A asleep by bedtime.
So with a bounce in his step, Blaine started on the ten minute walk from Dalton Academy to the apartment.
Across the street, hidden deep within the shadows of a near alleyway, two eyes watched Blaine Anderson walk down the sidewalk. The figure the eyes belonged to wasn’t recognizable from the alley’s mouth; the whole body was cast in shadow. However, a gruff voice could be heard if one listened closely.
“I’ve spotted him. The blonde’s not with him.”
A voice that sounded as if were coming from a radio answered the statement. “How is he?”
“Nothing seems out of the ordinary... he’s in school uniform, humming... he looks happy.”
“He shouldn’t hum. He’s wasting all his talent on those blasted squirrels who run through town.”
“Do you still want him?”
“Of course I want him!” There was a pause. “Plus, if anyone’s better, he could be backup. I’m sure we’ll find some use for him.”
“Affirmative.”
A stray sunbeam entered the alleyway, revealing the shadows until the person’s feet, keeping them in shadow. However, the person’s figure became slightly more than an outline. The person reached towards his wrist and a device sitting on it lit up, casting a green glow on the figure’s face revealing a pale complexion and dark brown eyes. His hand moved from the device to his ear as he spoke once more.
“Get him.”
On the other side of the road, Blaine turned the corner to the next street. He was heading towards the street that held most of the mom and pop stores of the city as he let his mind wander. Maybe he could pick up some cinnamon buns for the guys. It could be to celebrate the great performances, or their high chances to win at sectionals.
Suddenly, a hand appeared and plastered itself against his face, a white cloth smothering him. Another hand started dragging him back, despite Blaine’s fighting hands and legs, his heels dragging in the ground trying to slow the process.
The more he fought, the deeper he breathed into the cloth covering his face. He was getting weaker; his body more tired as his capturers turned and pulled him into an alleyway. After a minute, he couldn’t fight anymore and slipped into unconsciousness.
---
The lights rose up on the pedestal as Kurt Hummel leaned back in his chair, looking up at the model in front of him. He was sitting amongst his internship class. There were about twenty of them, sitting in the plastic chairs with clipboards staring up at the person in front of them. A man walked around their little circle of chairs, talking. It took a minute for Kurt to stop focusing on the beautiful, tight black pants on the model to listen to his boss.
“This outfit was designed by one of your classmates. Whether it is hot or not is up to you. Discuss.” He waited, not saying a word. It was his design and he wasn’t going to try to curve people’s opinions either way by being the first one to praise it.
A girl across from Kurt stared at the model and spoke up. “The scarf accents the jacket very nicely, although the pants... there’s something wrong with them but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“The plaid of the jacket. It’s too green for the pants. They don’t even go well together. Did someone put this together in their sleep?” Another man asked two chairs to Kurt’s left.
Four chairs to his right, a man shrugged slightly. “I think if you just look at it for a moment... it brings out all the colours, brings everything together.” He said. “Stop criticizing for a moment and look at it as a whole, not as bits and pieces.” The man’s name was Joey Sprankle and in that moment Kurt’s appreciation for him flew skyward.
His plots to talk to the man and make him his best friend were quickly halted as his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He wasn’t exactly going to answer it, but it wouldn’t hurt to see whose call he missed. When the part of the screen with the caller ID cleared his pocket, it revealed to be an unknown number. “Excuse me.” Kurt said quietly before standing up and looking towards his superior.
There was no real recognizable emotion on the man’s face, but Kurt knew that by leaving he’d probably pay the punishment with extra homework or random duties. He wasn’t really sure he cared. So with that, he left the room, walking down the hallway and holding the phone in his hand as it continued to ring.
As soon as he entered a lobby-like area, he ran his thumb sideways, unlocking the screen. It didn’t take him long to press the answer button and bringing the phone to his ear.
But before he managed to get any words out, a male voice on the other end spoke, silencing him. “Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling through an endless diamond sky.”
Kurt’s eyes narrowed before lowering his voice and hurrying to a semi-secluded part of the lobby. There were no people around, but it was farthest from the door and windows. “Brushing up on looking down and working on my roar?”
“As swift as a coursing river, with all the force of a great typhoon-”
Now it was his turn to cut off the man on the other end. “With all the strength of a raging fire. Mysterious as the dark side of the moon!” Kurt finished excitedly. With that, as suddenly as it started, the call ended and he pulled the phone away from his ear. His hands weren’t shaky, but he could already feel his palms starting to sweat as he slipped the phone in his pocket.
He almost ran his hands through his hair before realizing that it would have probably messed up his style for today. He wouldn’t want to do that, now would he? Instead his hands went into the pockets of the skinny jeans he wore today as he started going back towards the room containing his peers.
As he walked, his steps got faster, his strides elongating and before long he was sprinting down the hall, bursting into the room, attracting all eyes to him.
“Mister Hummel, is there a problem?” His boss was staring at him expectantly. The model on the pedestal was no longer the one modelling his design- they had moved on.
Without much hesitation, Kurt moved over to his seat and started piling his notebooks, sketchbooks and general belongings into his messenger bag as he started to talk. “I have to go, sir. My father’s in the hospital again, and I have to go see him, to make sure that he’s okay. My stepmother booked me a ticket on the next flight out.” He said rather quickly.
“How many flights are going from New York to Ohio at this hour?” One of the girls who criticized his work earlier said in a rather snooty voice.
Kurt shrugged. “Dunno. I’m lucky, I suppose.” He said coolly before swinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few days. Sorry.” There was nothing left to say as he rushed out of the room, making sure his bag didn’t hit his side too much.
Of course the whole thing was a lie. His father was perfectly fine with Carol at his side back in Lima, probably watching the morning news, as it probably wasn’t even 9am yet. The story was predetermined ages ago and he just added a few more believable details to it to accommodate to his father and Carol’s wedding a few years ago.
When he was little, right after his mother died, he had gone through a phase when he wanted to prove his masculinity to his father. It went poorly, of course, but he tried very hard to make it work. He subscribed to lots of car and truck magazines, rented action movies and bought a few spy kits. Out of everything, the spy kits intrigued him the most. He did a bit of research and took an interest in espionage.
A few months later he was offered a spot in Boy Scouts, and he took it, thinking it’d help him prove himself to his father. His father took him and it looked all fine and dandy from the outside, but as soon as the parents left, the demeanour changed. The counsellors became stricter and their activities became more and more unlike normal Boy Scout activities.
Finally, towards the end of the first 4 hour meeting, they were told. They were the CIA and they had handpicked each boy for the sole purpose of training them to become agents. They each had a talent that the adults found valuable and made each of the boys unique. Of course, they could just walk out. They would get their memories wiped of the meeting, replaced with ones of a Boy Scout meeting that led them to not want to join.
But Kurt was interested. Maybe not interested, but intrigued- he couldn’t walk away from this... not to mention he wanted to know the “talent” that made him an asset.
So he lied to his father, telling great stories of a Boy Scout troupe that was a figment of their imaginations. Truly ordinary, believable stories fed to them by the government operatives to tell their friends and family.
When Kurt entered high school, they declared his training complete. He was given a badge, a handbook and a set of rules he should never break. He could still remember the commanding officer, the one who followed his agent class from that first meeting to the night he crossed the stage with only uniformed officers watching.
His name had been Agent Gollin, the man who first truly made Kurt question his sexuality. As they shook hands and saluted on that stage on his final day, Kurt finally managed to ask the question that had plagued him since he was nine. “What was my talent, sir? The one to keep me in the program?”
Gollin stared at him for a few moments in silence before saying “Your drive to please and protect your loved ones.” Kurt’s face must have fallen to some degree because he continued soon after that. “Do not take this lightly. Few will leave this program and still have the priorities they had when they first joined. You will still die for the ones who matter, not just to the mission or to you.”
Kurt wasn’t sure what to make of it, but nodded nonetheless before returning to his seat. After his whole class had shaken their commander’s hands, Gollin addressed them all once more. “Congratulations on making it this far. Do not mention this to anyone, not your friends at home, your family or your future spouses. We hope to never have to call you up to fight for your country, we hope there is never a need. But if there ever is, we know our soldiers are damn good ones.” There was nothing but pride on the man’s face as he looked over the sea of boys.“Hoo-ha!”
At his final words, the entire group of boys stood at attention and called back, “Hoo-ha!”
That was his last day as a government operative. Then he had to assimilate back into normal, daily life. Ones without people prying to attack him on the street to make sure he was attentive or training sessions three times a week.
Until today.
Kurt burst open the front doors of the building and walked into the bustling street of New York, quickly walking away from the building. After walking about a block or so, he approached a phone booth. People simply ignored its presence and it was no guessing game why. Nearly everyone had a cell phone nowadays and those who didn’t had resources to get to a payphone that wasn’t on the street.
He opened the door and slipped in. He quickly dialled “1115878” before hanging up the phone and looking as if it never happened. As he pretended to slowly look through the phone book that sat by the phone, the glass around him slowly started to darken. Those outside wouldn’t notice. It was subtle enough that no one would look twice.
Once the glass was properly darkened, the phone both jerked and Kurt knew the platform he stood on was descending. While he waited, he tried to look at his reflection in the glass. Kurt adjusted a stray hair but otherwise thought he looked okay. He wore a light green sweater with a navy cardigan over it. As he looked down, his black jeans worked perfectly with the scarf he had draped around his neck. By the time he was done, the platform stopped and the door sprung open.
He turned around and walked straight out, not blinking as two men instantly flanked his side and walked with him. They were both dressed in dark navy suits with crisp white shirts underneath, an earpiece in their favoured ears. The one on Kurt’s left carried a clipboard and instantly started to talk. “Welcome back, Agent Hummel. We have a rather interesting case for you today.”
The voice wasn’t familiar to him, so he glanced towards the man. ”Why me?” He didn’t understand why they were calling in, what in all honesty could be considered a sleeper spy, when even this small command post was crawling with agents.
“The Commander thought you’d be best for this particular case.”
“Not to mention, half of the agents brought on from the Scout Program whenever we ask them to come on duty always refuse to come.” The man on the right added in a mutter. Kurt raised an eyebrow as they turned a corner, now following the men from a half pace behind. “Most are your age, out of high school and either starting towards a university degree or in the workforce that is not governmental. Unfortunately, most are not willing to risk their lives, or even their time, to help their country anymore.”
He watched the man on his left shoot the other man a nasty look before they stopped at the door, causing Kurt nearly to walk right past them. “You will be briefed by the Commander himself, who’s heading the investigation.” He said, giving his clipboard one last look-over. “My name is Kornsner, if you ever need anything.” He jerked his head to the other man. “He’s my partner Toth. If you ask for us, people will know who you’re talking about.”
The two saluted to him and Kurt mimicked the action before turning his back to the two men and entering the room.
Back in his trainee days, they never met the upper agents. They had their own miniature ranks within their group, split up into squads and whatnot, and they’d train that way. But no one outranked Gollin who, Kurt hypothesized, was not very high ranking at all. So when he saw the man behind the desk, he wasn’t exactly sure what to think of him.
The man was intimidating; Kurt had to give him that. He was dressed in a very nice suit, one that he knew the presumably interns outside could never afford. He was looking down at a file, showing the top of shortly shaven head. He didn’t look up as Kurt walked in and stood at attention, instead making the other man wait until he was done several pages of notes.
Finally, he looked up. “You’re better than some of the other Scout Agents I’ve seen so far.” His voice was stern, with a hint of bemusement.
“Oh?” Kurt still stood with his hands behind his back, looking at the man in front of him. He didn’t dare shift his weight or show impatience. This high ranking person, Commander, apparently, just gave him a complement and he remembered his training days well- they never came frequently.
“They are so impatient to get on with their mission and are horribly disappointed when it’s not something out of a James Bond movie.” He sighed and motioned to the chair in front of him. “Sit down. What have you been up to?”
The man’s voice had softened up slightly but Kurt wasn’t fooled. Carefully he sat down, crossing his legs and pondering the man’s question. “Since we got our pins? I’ve graduated high school in Ohio, taken up an internship at a designer a few blocks away here... nothing substantial.” What did the Commander expect him to say? ‘Oh I’ve been on a few missions over the years, prepping myself for this day. Brought down a few terrorists. You know the drill.’
The Commander nodded and carefully placed his hands on the file in front of him. “For a few weeks now, we’ve gotten reports of high school boys disappearing. Now it’s crossed multiple state lines so we were brought in to investigate. We’ve found traces chloroform, bindings and other substances have been found in areas around the boys’ schools.” He gathered up the file in front of him and passed it to Kurt who flicked through it.
“Are there any common links other than the presumed methods of kidnapping?” He asked, looking through the pictures of the missing boys. There were about twelve of them, each photo completely unlike the last one. There was a blonde with spiked up hair, a red head who seemed to have a very close buzz cut, a curly, mousse coloured haired one.
”Nothing, really... except for one thing. They’re all in show choir.”
Kurt looked up and stared at the man in front of him, his jaw almost dropping to the floor. Almost. “Show choir?” He repeated.
The Commander looked up at him as if he were speaking Greek. “Yes, show choir. According to your resume, you were a performer yourself? ”
It suddenly hit him why he was chosen specifically for this mission... and he wasn’t sure if he was sad or not. “You’re not expecting me to join a show choir, pretend I’m in high school, get kidnapped and figure everything out that way, are you?” He would do it, he supposed, since he looked young enough, but it seemed rather extensive and unnecessary.
Thankfully, the man seemed to know that as he shook his head with a chuckle. “No, we just wanted you because if this is related to show choir at all, you would be able to make the connection fairly quickly.” He said with a small shrug. “And it’s not like you were a bad agent when you graduated. Top half of your class, at least, if I remember correctly.”
Kurt shrugged a little. “Top quarter, but who’s counting?” He said with a smirk. “So. Where do I begin? Am I... shipped off to some state with a lovely view? Great weather? A place where I might get a good tan over the time I’m gone?”
He gave a right good laugh, throwing his head back and everything. It only lasted a moment before he leaned forward and smirked. “Lima, Ohio.”
Now it was time for Kurt to lean back and groan. “Lima?” He exclaimed. “But sir, that’s where I grew up. I spent nineteen years trying to escape that place.”
The Commander shrugged slightly. “You knew signing up for this that you’d travel places. Especially ones you might not want to go to. Plus, it was the place where the first boy disappeared. Malcolm Polter, by the look of it.” He said, looking at another file on his desk. After a minute, Kurt nodded even though he was a little aggravated. There was no good being passive aggressive, or otherwise, to the man.
“Fine. Do I get any gadgets? Any leads I might have to go on?” Kurt asked.
The other man gave him a small smile. “I think I like you, Hummel. So yes. Yes you do.” He grinned broadly. “But I am not the person to do that. Good luck.”
It was a rather short dismissal, rather impersonal but it did give him some promise to the idea he might get some help achieving the mission’s goal. Kurt took the dismissal to mean that there were another set of agents, or interns, outside his door to give him the things he asked for. So he stood up and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
As he predicted, two more men waited outside for him, these two in black suits. He thought they looked rather dapper, the both of them. He walked behind the one on the left by a half step, occasionally letting his eyes drift below the waistline, smirking when the light hit it the right way.
Finally, he realized that the one who he wasn’t watching was trying to speak to him. “... you’ll also be granted ability to authorize wire taps and other operations previously unavailable to you.” Kurt panicked a little. What was the first part of that? He was sure that there was more. It was probably a whole little speech.
“Sorry... could you say that beginning part again?” He asked, feeling a small blush come up his cheeks.
The man whose ass he was previously watching turned around and looked at him hard and stern. “We’ll be giving you a communications device in case you need to get in contact with anyone here at headquarters while you’re in Lima.”
Kurt nodded and took a deep breath. “So how am I getting there?”
“Have you ever ridden in a private jet, Hummel?”