The Director's footsteps echoed throughout the otherwise desolate hallway as he approached the secure area known as S.H.I.E.L.D's warehouse.

Upon reaching the entrance, he tapped the alarm system secured to the wall a few times, entering his credentials and allowing the door to slide open. He stepped inside the large building and once he was near the middle, started speaking.

"One hell of a gutsy move, organising this meeting on S.H.I.E.L.D property," he called out, voice booming across the void, "Someone coulda spotted you."

The figure to which he was speaking emerged from the shadows with a shrug, indicating that they didn't really care.

Fury cocked one brow and scoffed. "You look pretty good for someone who's dead."

"Yeah, well," Brendon exhaled and walked closer to his boss, "It's amazing what being blown up does for your skin."

Brendon allowed The Director to chuckle at his joke before he spoke again, this time with an exceptionally serious tone, and concern written all over his face.

"How is she?"

"How would you be?" Fury sighed. "She's dealing, in her own way. Been throwing herself into figuring out her abilities and all that, which is good." Another amused scoff left The Director's mouth as he looked at the ground. "But she's hell bent on avenging your death. Wants to rip all of Hydra to shreds."

Brendon's lips twitched upwards slightly. "Sounds like you're gonna have your hands full."

Fury's face dropped as he glared at Brendon. "Yeah, dealing with the shit you caused. I'm telling you, you better be sure that you did the right thing and you better hope that what you're planning works out, cause if it don't..." he trailed off and shook his head, widening his eyes.

"I wouldn't have done this if I wasn't sure my leads were legit, and I," he paused for a moment, looking up, "I wouldn't have left her if I didn't need to."

The older man nodded in understanding. "You don't have to tell me that; I know."

"Yeah, but does she?"

Fury shrugged and threw his hands up. "I might know everything about everything, but whatever the hell is going on between you and her is the one and only exception to that. All I can say is: your return better be wonderful as all hell."

Brendon snorted and rolled his eyes. "So, no pressure, then."

"Oh, absolutely none at all."

The agent shook his head and laughed lightly before using his eyes to gesture at the package in The Director's hand. "That's it?"

"ID, passport, credit cards..." Fury rattled off, handing over the brown paper package, "Everything you need. From here on out, to anyone who crosses your path, you're Mr Scott Brady."

"I don't look like a Scott."

"You don't look dead either, but you are."

"Fair enough," Brendon gave a half-smirk and pocketed the package, "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it."

"Anything for my best agent," Fury bowed his head before snapping his fingers, "Which reminds me... I have something else for you."

Brendon narrowed his eyes in perplexity as he watched The Director turn to face one of the side garage doors before he followed suit.

"Coulson," Fury yelled out with a smile, "release the hounds."

The door retracted with a mechanical whirr, revealing three sturdy frames standing behind it. Once the door was fully open, the three men walked out of the shadows, stopping a few feet away from Brendon and The Director.

All three men were built similarly, with bulging muscles, broad shoulders, and tall frames. One of them was slightly taller than the other two, however, and had long black hair, a circle beard and a Samoan sleeve tattoo. The one standing furthest from Brendon had similar looks to the first one, with brown hair – half of which was dyed blonde – that rolled down to his shoulders and an extended goatee. Then there was the one in the middle; he was the most noticeably different, with gingery-brown hair matted to his head, sharp blue eyes and an earring in one ear.

They were dressed in matching gear that closely resembled those worn by SWAT teams, and each wore a dog-tag necklace engraved with the words 'The Hounds' around their necks.

This wasn't the first time Brendon was seeing the men. In fact, he had helped train them back when they were still in developmental. They had been extremely promising rookie agents, and from the few reports Brendon had glanced over since they had moved up to the higher rankings of S.H.I.E.L.D, they were proving to be some of the most valuable agents the division had ever seen.

Needless to say, Brendon couldn't supress the smirk forming across his face at the sight of them.

"I believe you four are well acquainted, already," Fury spoke, and the four employees nodded.

"Agents Reigns, Rollins and Ambrose," Brendon chuckled incredulously, turning to Fury and gazing adoringly at him, "You spoil me, sir."

"It's not so much me spoiling you than me ensuring you come back in one piece," Fury corrected, "Four agents have a better chance at survival than one, and I have a hunch that the four of you together would be a force to be reckoned with."

"Damn right," Brendon concurred, extending his fist so that each of the other three guys could bump it; Fury grinned at the sight.

"Well," Fury clapped his hands together, "Best of luck to you, agents. Especially you," he turned to Brendon, "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you again, sir," Brendon held out his hand for The Director to shake, which he did, "I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, kid."

Fury nodded at his agents and turned to leave, but Brendon reached out to stop him. "Wait, sir, if possible, could you do one last thing for me?"

"I'm not professing your undying love for (Y/N) to her, Agent. You have to do that yourself."

A laugh was shared between The Hounds before Brendon silenced them with a glare.

"That's not what I-" Brendon cut himself off with a sigh, moving to retrieve a necklace from the breast pocket of his jacket and hand it over to Fury, "Will you give this to her? Tell her that you found it in my locker. Supposed to be a Christmas gift," he mumbled.

"Of course," Fury spoke softly, carefully taking the piece of jewellery from Brendon's fingers. He set it safely in the pocket of his trench coat and started walking away, giving a two-fingered salute as a parting gesture. "Until we meet again, agents."

"Try not to crash and burn without us," Brendon called out.

"Watch it, Urie. You may be dead, but I can still kick your ass."

ʙʀᴇɴᴅᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ (ʏ/ɴ) ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ɪɴ
ʙᴏᴅʏɢᴜᴀʀᴅ ɪɪ: ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʟ ᴛɪᴇs