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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sᴇᴠᴇɴ: ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ

❝ ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴅᴇᴀʟs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ. ❞

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BRENDON FIDDLED WITH THE BULLION cuff links on his suit jacket as he sashayed down the partially crowded hallway, the heels of his freshly shined dress shoes creating an echoing clank-clank as he walked. He kept his focus trained on his dinner partner sitting across the room at a table in the most secluded area of the restaurant.

There was a pianist playing a medley of classical songs on the grand piano in the centre of the room, right underneath an enormous glass chandelier, as waiters clad in shirts and waistcoats strolled between tables of high-society groups conversing in hushed tones.

The entire place screamed 'pretentious and materialistic', and usually Brendon would have no desire to be in such an atmosphere. But tonight, he had to make an exception.

With a quick flex of his jaw muscles, Brendon lifted both hands to readjust the collar of his shirt before walking the last few steps to the table where he would be dining.

"Mr Brady, an honor to finally make your acquaintance."

"I wish I could say the same," Brendon replied coolly, extending his hand to grip his counterpart's in a firm handshake.

A dark chuckle left the lips of the other man as he unbuttoned his jacket and sat down once again, a hand smoothing down his shirt as he did so.

"I see my reputation precedes me."

"That would be an understatement."

"Well then you have me at a disadvantage," the man's eyes flinched lightly as he forced a smile, "Because your reputation seems to be practically non-existent."

Brendon forced a smile of his own before motioning for a waiter. "I try to keep to myself as much as possible. A double bourbon on the rocks, please."

The waiter gave a polite nod and turned to fetch the drink as Brendon turned back to his counterpart.

"When you're not slaughtering my employees, you mean."

"I only kill people who deserve to be killed."

"Ah yes," the man sighed, leaning back in his chair slightly and pointing a finger at the youngster across from him, "How noble of you. I must admit... seeing your handiwork, I was impressed. "

The waiter returned with the bourbon, placing it down on a paper coaster on the mahogany wood table. Brendon smoothly reached for it and took a gulp, maintaining eye contact and a perfect poker face the entire time.

A dark gleam flashed across the man's dim eyes and he continued. "And it got me thinking – surely a man of your... talent, wouldn't have gone unnoticed for so long. So, I did a little digging. Tried to find whatever information I could on Scott Brady. Do you know what I found?"

Brendon raised an eyebrow in boredom, replying in a monotonous tone. "Enlighten me."

Another forced smile graced the man's features as he twirled the butter knife from the table setting in his hand.

"Nothing," he said, "Other than a vague description, there are no personal records whatsoever of a Scott Brady. What I did find, however, was the profile of one Agent Brendon Urie, a S.H.I.E.L.D employee who supposedly died just a little while ago. Naturally, the information was accompanied by some pictures and I-" he paused for a moment to chuckle shortly, "I couldn't help but notice that you, Scott Brady, bear a striking resemblance to him."

"How strange," Brendon responded without missing a beat, cocking his head to the side in mock surprise.

Suddenly, the knife was brought down, piercing the complimentary rolls in one harsh, swift movement. The force of the action resulted in the crockery on the table clanging, causing a few of the other patrons to halt their conversations and turn to investigate the disturbance.

Brendon didn't even flinch; he stayed as cold and unmoving as an ice-sculpture, slowly lifting the glass to his lips and tilting it upwards to allow the liquid into his mouth.

"Do not," the man hissed in a hushed tone so that only Brendon could hear him, "play games with me, boy. I can assure you that it won't end well for you." His expression changed from that of an extremely irate man to a properly smug one. He once again leaned back in his chair and tossed Brendon a small smirk. "You were unwise to even come here tonight."

The emergence of three black flashes in his peripheral vision prompted Brendon to look up onto the balcony around the restaurant's perimeter, where he was met with the sight of three burly men spread out around the area, just in front of the marbled pillars.

The younger man took a gulp from his drink before copying his counterpart's stance – leaning back and smirking.

"And you were stupid to think that I would come alone."

Instinctively, Brendon's dinner partner looked up to check on his men and felt his stomach drop as he did. His reinforcements were gone.

And The Hounds stood in their place.

"Don't even try," Brendon scoffed, noticing that the man was reaching to tap the screen of his smart-watch, "We took care of your goons outside, too. Now, you don't need half a brain to figure out that this isn't gonna end well for you; so if you don't wanna get torn to shreds by my friends up there, I suggest you tell me what I want to know."

The man's eye twitched somewhat as Brendon leaned forward, face hard and menacing.

"Where is he?"

Curtiss Jackson remained silent and unblinking, which only angered his dining guest.

"Look, you douche, I'm already more on edge than you could ever imagine, and you really don't wanna piss me off even more. I've paralysed someone with a fucking wooden spoon before – imagine what I could do with a knife." Brendon picked up a knife from the place setting and twirled it around for good measure. "So I'm gonna ask you one more time and I expect an answer. I know you transferred him from your HQ after our phone call, so where did you move him to?"

Jackson drew in a breath before steeling himself and replying. "I believe we agreed to forge a deal."

"Here's my deal: you tell me where you're keeping him, and I won't kill you."

"I'm not sure if you're familiar with the concept, but that's not exactly a deal."

Brendon rolled his eyes. "Alright, so what do you propose?"

Pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Jackson leaned forward and propped his elbows on the tabletop.

"You never mentioned, Mr Urie, why exactly it is that you want Subject 45."

"Does it matter?"

"If we're going to strike a reasonable deal, then yes. It matters very much."

Brendon exhaled impatiently. "He's Nick Fury's godson. Fury personally assigned me to this mission with the order to do whatever it takes to get him back."

Jackson's eyebrows raised in intrigue. "Is that so? Well then I imagine Director Fury would be willing to bring a decent offering to the table."

"Whatever you want," Brendon sighed, "Within reason, of course."

"I'm sure he'd agree that you can't put a price on his godson's life."

The brooding agent narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure he would."

Jackson folded his hands and cleared his throat. "So here's my proposal: I'm willing to do a trade. I'll release Subject 45... if Fury gives me one of his top level agents."

"One moment please." Brendon held up a finger and pulled out his cellphone. "Yeah, sir? He says he'll let Drew go if you give him a Level One agent in return. What's that? Yeah, I'll tell him." Brendon set his phone on the table and looked at Jackson. "He said to fuck off."

Jackson scoffed before holding up both hands. "It's his funeral."

"Actually," Brendon smirked, "it's Corporation's." He picked up his phone, tapped a few buttons and held it out to the man opposite him. "You see that? That's your headquarters right now. In five minutes, there'll be nothing left. Oh and don't worry, we took care of the western branch, too. Senator Stivak was much more cooperative than you."

The color drained from Jackson's face as he observed the live feed of his headquarters going up in flames. "What is this?"

"This is the end of Corporation." It was Brendon's turn to lean forward now. "See, right from the start, I was always two steps ahead of you. I always knew where you were based. This meeting was simply a way of keeping you preoccupied while my associates took care of business."

Jackson looked up to stare hatefully at Brendon, who cocked his head. "You'll never find him, now," he spoke, referring to the mention of Nick Fury's godson.

"Oh, you didn't think I was telling the truth just now, did you?" Brendon chuckled as he jutted a thumb over his shoulder. "Subject 45 was never who I was after, and Nick Fury doesn't even have a godson; I only told you that during our phone call to throw you off. I knew that once I told you who I was after you'd transfer him. So, I lied, and you moved the wrong subject while the one I wanted was still safely at HQ. You trust too easily, Curtiss. You should work on that."

"Now if you'll excuse me," Brendon downed the remainder of his drink before shooting Jackson a wink, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket, "I have places to be, people to see. My friends here," he tilted his head at The Hounds, who suddenly appeared behind Jackson, "will make sure you get treated just right. Thanks for the drink, Mr Jackson. We should do it again sometime."

Jackson yelled out angrily after Brendon as he started for the exit. "We were supposed to have a deal!"

Brendon didn't bother to turn around, and smirked to himself as he strode off. "You should know better than to make deals with the devil."

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One hour earlier. Secret S.H.I.E.L.D facility. Queens, New York.

"Alright," Brendon stood up as he addressed his team, "I'm meeting assface in one hour, so let's go over the plan one more time."

Everyone nodded and gave the agent their undivided attention.

"Aaron, you and Spalding will take a quinjet down to Corporation HQ. Fury was kind enough to send you a S.H.I.E.L.D task force including one of his best agents – Spencer Smith. They'll be waiting for you on site. A reminder that no one outside of this room besides Dallon and Fury know that I'm alive, so don't mention me to them at all, okay?" Aaron and Spalding nodded in understanding. "Fury's also sent another task force to take care of the western branch, so after tonight, Corporation will cease to exist."

A short cheer came from the group and Aaron smiled happily. All he wanted was to end Corporation once and for all, and he felt giddy over the fact that it was actually about to happen. He made a mental note to thank Brendon after everything was done.

"The Hounds will accompany me to the restaurant, where they'll take care of any reinforcements that Jackson felt necessary to bring with. They'll alert you," he looked at Aaron, "once I've joined Jackson at the table, and that's when you'll move in."

Brendon looked down and took a deep breath before finishing off. "I only have two requests. One: once you're inside, you release the imprisoned subjects and send them with the task force. Two: you separate Subject 0 from the rest and keep him with you until I get to you guys. He's precarious, so I suggest you knock him out first. Other than that," Brendon held his hands out, "you have free reign to do whatever the hell you want with the place. Go crazy. Have fun."

"Oh," Aaron chuckled shortly, "I will."

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Now. Corporation HQ, Eastern United States Branch.

"Arson," Brendon nodded approvingly as he treaded through the ashes of Corporation HQ, towards Aaron, "I like."

"Yeah, wasn't originally what I had planned but," Aaron shrugged as he looked around, "I accidently knocked over some kind of chemical in the lab and just ran with it."

Brendon scoffed in amusement and stood with his hands on his hips. He noticed a body in the back off the nearby quinjet and pointed at it.

"That him?"

"Yep. All wrapped up and ready for transport," Aaron smiled as he led Brendon forward.

"Thanks," Brendon placed a hand on the bot's shoulder. "Appreciate it."

"No need to thank me," Aaron assured with a shake of his head, "In fact, I wanted to thank you. You gave me a chance to avenge my father, and I will be eternally grateful for that. You're a really good guy, Brendon."

"Believe me, I'm not that good," Brendon mumbled, bending down to get a better look at the bound man. He looked back at Aaron with a creased forehead. "But you're welcome. You find him okay?" He waved over the man in the jet.

"Yes, quite okay. Found him immediately." Aaron stepped forward, quiet for a moment before continuing. "The resemblance is quite striking."

"Yeah, well..." Brendon stood back up and smiled sarcastically. "I wouldn't have known before now."

Brendon turned around and called for The Hounds to bring the SUV closer so that their new guest could be loaded into it. Once he was, Brendon extended his hand for Aaron to shake.

"So this is where we part ways?"

"Yeah," Brendon confirmed, "Thank you again, Aaron. I won't say we couldn't have done it without you, 'cause that'd be a lie," Aaron laughed at the agent's words, "but it sure as hell would've been a lot more difficult."

"Likewise," Aaron chirped, pulling his hand back with a nod. "If you ever need anything..."

"Yeah, you too."

The men exchanged one last pat on the back and Aaron bid his farewells to The Hounds before each group retreated to their respective vehicles. Brendon allowed Aaron and Spalding to take the quinjet, while he and The Hounds clambered into the SUV.

As soon as the SUV hit the main road into the city, Dean started complaining about his hunger.

"Can we stop at a diner for the customary post-mission victory meal?" he requested, setting his hands on the backs of the front seats and sticking his head in the opening between them. "My body's comprised of 90% protein bars by now."

"Is that other 10% irritation?" Brendon asked monotonously, resting one hand on the steering wheel as he propped his other elbow on the edge of the driver's door.

Tired laughs came from Seth and Roman while Dean rolled his eyes.

"Can we?" he persisted.

"Are you serious? There's an unconscious body in the trunk and you want us to pull over for food?"

"We can get him something, too," Dean huffed with a bob of his head.

Seth clicked his tongue and pivoted his body so that he could shove Dean back into the backseat.

"He's not gonna shut up until he gets fed," The Architect sighed and rubbed his tired eyes as he looked to Brendon, "Can we at least just go to a drive-thru?"

Somewhat reluctantly, Brendon conceded and twenty minutes later the SUV pulled up at the entrance to a McDonald's drive-thru. He rolled down the window and placed the order.

"Four large double quarter pounder meals, please. Diet cokes."

Dean leaned forward again, this time whispering something in Brendon's ear.

With a monumental eye-roll, Brendon exhaled heavily and added to the order. "And a twelve-piece chicken nuggets with ranch dipping sauce."

Dean smiled contentedly and patted Brendon's shoulder before relaxing into his seat as the older guy handed the cash over to the cashier. The SUV pulled up to the next window and Brendon collected the food, passing it on to the other guys and driving off after.

"Thanks, Brendon," Dean said through a mouthful of fries, "You're such a great dad."

"Piss off," Brendon snorted, barely containing a smile. All was quiet as The Hounds munched on their food and Brendon decided to make use of the rare moment of noiselessness. "Hey, I just wanted to tell you guys that I really appreciate everything you've done other these past five months. I know it wasn't easy, and it was exceptionally mentally and physically draining, but you stuck with me through it all, and for that I thank you."

"Hey man," Roman reached forward and lightly squeezed the other agent's shoulder, "no worries. You know we got your back."

"Yeah, you're like an honorary fourth member of The Hounds," Dean chimed, slurping his Coke.

"When did you get all soft and cuddly?" Seth gave the driver a sceptical look, slowly depositing a fry in his mouth. "That's the second 'thank you' speech you've given today. It's making me uncomfortable. Hash-tag bring asshole Urie back."

"Shut the fuck up and accept my rare moment of gratitude. 'Cause I promise that you won't get another one for at least another two years."

"There he is," Seth reached over and ruffled Brendon's hair, earning himself a moderately painful punch to the gut.

"Don't touch my fucking hair."

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Thank you for reading x

Note: What do you think will happen from here on out? Any theories? x