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The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

 

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Agent Urie
By Complexmind

 


Disclaimer: I only own the story idea.

Agent Urie

One class down, six to go, Brendon thought as he walked out of the first class of the day and to his locker. He exchanged his stuff and headed to the foreign language class that he had to take but didn't need.

He scanned the room when he stepped through the door and took his usual place in the back in the corner that was opposite the door. He couldn't stand having people where he couldn't see them or to have the door out of sight.

Seconds later his best friends walked through the door. Spencer Smith sat down in front of him, Jon Walker sat beside Spencer, and his best friend, Ryan Ross sat next to him.

Jon and Spencer were deep in a discussion about the benefits of knowing another language; Jon for, Spencer against which was strange considering how Spencer did really well in this class and Jon, not so much.

Brendon looked at Ryan, who looked at him; they rolled their eyes and Ryan smiled at him. Brendon really sometimes wished that he wouldn't do that so much, it distracted him and sent blood rushing to his face. He returned the smile though, and Ryan leaned closer to talk.

“Hey. How has your morning been so far?” Ryan asked while absentmindedly rubbing his head.

“Boring as hell. What happened to you today?” Brendon replied, concern coloring his voice when he said the last part after he saw the bruises on Ryan's upper arms as his short sleeves went up a little when moved.

“He grabbed me by the arms,” Ryan nodded to his upper arms, “slammed me against the wall,” he rubbed the back of his head again, “told me I was a “useless waste of space”, slapped me and hit me hard in the stomach,” Ryan muttered so only Brendon could hear. He had only told Brendon about what his dad did to him, poor kid; he went through hell every day of his life.

Brendon leaned over and rubbed Ryan's shoulder with one hand. It was one of the primary ways he showed comfort, for Ryan anyway. Besides the desk prevented him from hugging the other boy as tightly as he possibly could, which was tight; he was much stronger than he looked. Ryan turned his face away so that Brendon could rub his neck; which was what he did.

When Ryan had first told him he'd started to cry. Brendon's immediate reaction had been to get closer, wrap his arms around him, and rub the tension out of his shoulders and neck. He wasn't sure why, but he conveyed emotions through touch, which was strange considering that he'd been raised to not trust or like touch very much.

What Brendon really wanted to do though was kill the son of a bitch that caused his friend so much pain. The evil bastard that physically, verbally, and mentally abused the innocent boy with hazel eyes deserved to die for what he'd done, or at least be locked away until Ryan was eighteen.

The teacher walked in and “class” started. He moved back into his desk and Ryan looked at him in gratitude. He only smiled back; he didn't mind doing it at all.

Finally the class was dismissed. Brendon had zoned out for most of it, but he already knew what they were trying to teach, so he didn't see how it mattered.

In all the classes he kept taking his seats in the corner that had full view of the doorway, and even though all of his friends thought that it was strange that he physically could not bring himself to sit anywhere else they always gave him his way and sat by him.

Once they'd tried to get him to sit in a spot where there would be one person behind him and the door was hidden behind a piece of wall. Brendon refused and when they all sat at that spot he went to his corner alone. It was a test, he knew that and they knew that. Since then they'd always obliged with the spot he wanted to sit in, but they just thought he was being stubborn.

“Mr. Urie, I know that it's the last day of school but please keep your attention here,” the teacher called, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yes ma'am.” He really needed to start paying attention, or pretend to pay attention better than he was now. So he fixed his gaze on the board, examining every mark, letting his mind wander but always keeping his eyes on the teacher or the board.

Class was finally over when a wave of apprehension washed over Brendon, he paused. This meant that something bad was happening or was going to happen. Nothing presented itself so he went to his next class, still on alert for signs of anything that might happen.

This class was on the other side of the school from the lockers and he had it all alone, none of his friends were in it at this time.

Halfway through class sirens started to go off in the school and a loud click sounded from all the windows. He wasn't exactly sure what was going on but he knew that the door would lock next and that he needed to be on the other side of the door. So he flew out of the desk and he launched himself at the door, managing to slide out right when it locked.

There was yelling behind him, most of it from the teacher, directed to him. Brendon tuned her out and focused. In a few seconds a gunshot rang out.

“You've got to be kidding me,” he said with a sigh. Then he sprinted to the other side of the school and the lockers, using hallways that kept him out of the shooter's way, because now with his hearing as focused as it was he was able to hear the shooter perfectly. He was getting close.

He stopped at his locker, reached into the pouch that hung from the inside of the door, pushed his hand past the pencils, scissors, and erasers, and pulled out his handgun. Quickly, he checked it, loaded it, cocked it, and set it on safety.

Then, with his back toward the wall he followed the shooter who had stopped in the camera heavy main hallway of the locker area of the school. All of the locker blocks branched off of it.

Cautiously, Brendon looked around the corner, gun up by his face, back pressed against the wall. The shooter was a boy named Howard that Brendon vaguely knew. Around him was a group of ten or so other highschoolers, they were cringing away from Howard in fear. Brendon assumed that they were “hostages”. Then he stopped breathing for a second, one of said hostages was Ryan.

Brendon turned back around and took a breath. He was the only person in the school that was qualified to do anything; therefore he had to do something. Taking another deep breath, he slid the safety off, just in case; he wasn't planning on firing unless he had to.

He stepped out into the hallway and said in a firm voice that didn't betray any nervousness, “Howard. Put the gun down and turn around.” He had his own gun grasped firmly but at his side.

Howard jumped and turned. All of the other hostages turned as well. Out of the corner of his eye Brendon saw Ryan's eyes widen at the sight of his friend with a gun.

“Oh, Urie,” Howard laughed in relief. “I thought you might be a cop or something. Did you have the same idea as me?” he asked nodding toward the gun in Brendon's hand.

“I'm not sure, what was your idea?” If you must just play along for a while. Find out what the person wants before you give any indication that you're trying to stop them. His dad's voice said in his mind.

“You know, teach the nation a lesson. I plan for this to be a major shooting; I have buddies from another school on their way. I'll start by killing these ten in order of their annoyingness and then I'm going to move on to other rooms, once my friends get here they're going to help me. Would you like to join us?”

“Let me think about it for a minute,” Brendon said, stalling for time. He tried to ignore the look of horror Ryan was giving him; he desperately wanted to assure him that this was fake, but that would go against everything he'd been taught, he didn't think he could do that, even for the boy he loved, and he was sure that coming out about what he was doing would get them all killed. However, he could stall for time and save them all; that was the much better option. So he looked back at Howard and said, “How many friends are we talking about?”

“Five.”

Five other sixteen year old boys who apparently had guns, he didn't know if they knew how to use them correctly, but it was still a dangerous situation. So Howard was trying to turn this into a bloodbath that would get on national news. Brendon assumed that Howard was also planning on killing himself after he'd killed the right amount of students and faculty members.

“How are you going to get this message across?”

“I have a note in my pocket.”

“Is this a suicide mission?”

“Yes. We're all killing ourselves afterward. If you join us you will be required to as well.”

Brendon pretended to think about this for a moment when really he was analyzing the information he was being given. First he had to digress and point out the horrible logic of how you would make someone kill themselves after you'd already died. Then he refocused and thought of everything he knew.

One: Howard was trying to send a message to the rest of the country. What it was; Brendon didn't know, nor did he need to know his seniors could deal with that.

Two: There were five more boys coming to the school as he spoke to Howard; five more boys with guns.

Three: He planned on killing the ten hostages first; including Ryan. Brendon's throat caught for a moment when he thought about that. There was no doubt in his mind that he needed to get this over with sometime soon.

Four: Howard was running out of patience and he was running out of time.

Then, Ryan did something that changed things up a little.

“Brendon! What the fuck? Don't do it!” he yelled eyes bulging out of his head. He sounded mad and worried and scared and shocked all at once.

“Shut up!” Howard yelled at Ryan, who shrank away into the wall.

“Don't worry Ry. Everything's going to be fine,” he muttered. Louder he said, “I've made my decision. I”

“Don't!” Ryan yelled again, cutting Brendon off.

“What did I tell you?” Howard yelled at Ryan again. This time he raised his gun and hit Ryan across the face with the butt of it. Ryan's head snapped to the side and he fell back and to the side, he was still conscious though.

“Ryan!” Brendon yelled in concern, running a few steps forward.

“Stop!” Howard yelled, raising his gun. Brendon stopped immediately. “I'm going to assume that that means that you don't want to join. Unless I'm wrong.”

“Fuck no! I was never going to join you!” he yelled back. He didn't care; he needed to stop the pretending anyway, he had enough information now.

“What a shame. I could've used another gun. I'm still curious to know what you were going to do with it, but that's okay. I should probably get started now; I've wasted quite a bit of time talking to you. I think I'll start with George here too.” Ryan stirred, trying to move away, but Howard bent down and grabbed him by the shirt, holding him in place. Brendon could hear Ryan's whimper.

“If you do one fucking thing to that boy, I will shoot you through the eye,” Brendon threatened through gritted teeth.

“Like you could shoot me; nonetheless through the eye on purpose,” Howard said with a laugh.

Brendon raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to test me?”

The smile vanished from Howard's face as he saw that Brendon was dead serious. Brendon was starting to walk toward the crazy teenager. “If you take one more step, I will be forced to shoot you, Brendon.”

Brendon didn't give a shit, he started to run forward; he never remembered the hallway being this long before.

True to his word, Howard raised his gun and fired at Brendon. Brendon felt the bullet graze over his shoulder and the searing pain that came with it, but he didn't think that he actually shot so he was fine bleeding-wise. He gritted his teeth against the pain and raised his own gun; Howard had now become an unreasonable and serious threat; especially now that he was pressing his gun to the side of Ryan's head with his finger on the trigger.

Brendon fired. The shot from the powerful handgun rang out in the hallway and the bullet that had been pushed out of the barrel spiraled straight into Howard's forehead. He dropped to the ground and thankfully he didn't pull the trigger before he died. Brendon rushed forward and pried the gun out of the dead teenager's hand; he checked the other boy's pulse to make sure he was dead. Then he turned to Ryan.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Did he do anything else to you?” There was some blood running down the side of Ryan's face.

Ryan nodded; then he shook his head. “N-no. I'm f-f-fine,” Ryan said stuttering like crazy. He only did that when he was scared.

“It's okay now Ry. The ringleader is gone and-What?” Ryan was staring at something behind him, he then remembered the other five boys. “Shit. Hold these and don't let them go for anything,” Brendon said, pushing the two guns into Ryan's hands, Ryan scrambled away a little but with a look from Brendon he picked them back up and held tight.

Brendon turned, at the end of the hallway five other boys stood with their guns in their hands. Immediately, he knew that they had no clue how to handle the guns. He would be able to get rid of them quickly. They were running down the hall and he stood up to meet them.

As soon as he had the opportunity he knocked the guns out of all of their hands. They didn't react much past rushing at him, apparently they were better fist-fighters than gunmen. Brendon didn't have a problem with it though.

One of them lunged at him with a fist that he easily ducked, from his position he grabbed the other boy's shoulder and pulled back, flipping him so he landed hard on the floor on his head. He was unconscious now.

The other four he handled much the same way. Mixed martial arts were very useful skills. Of course there were some good fighters among them and he got hit several times. His forehead was bleeding and he was developing a bruise on the side of his face by the time he had them all unconscious but he ignored it and gathered their guns as well.

“Can I have my gun back?” he asked Ryan.

Ryan looked at the two he was holding. “I d-don't exactly kn-know the dif-ference,” he stuttered.

“That's okay,” Brendon said, after studying the two guns briefly he picked out his, he made sure it wasn't loaded and that the safety was on before he shoved it into his waistband. He then quickly emptied the other six guns in record timing.

The other hostages were still there in the corner. They were looking at him, terrified. “Don't worry. I won't hurt you, I promise.”

It didn't look like they believed him until one of the girls whispered, “Thank you.” He nodded, smiling as best as he could.

The intercom crackled to life. “Brendon Urie come to the principal's office. NOW!” the voice of the principal thundered.

Calmly he stood up, helped Ryan up, and told the others that they should go to the nearest classroom. Then he began to walk to the office, Ryan walked with him eyeing his gun with a terrified expression. Brendon noticed.

“I'm not going to hurt you Ryan, you know that right?” he asked, desperate for the answer to be yes because he wouldn't be able to stand it if Ryan were afraid of him because of this.

“I don't know what to think. Why do you have a gun, Brendon?” he asked in a small voice.

“You're going to find out shortly,” Brendon responded stepping into the office. It would take a few minutes to explain, the principal was expecting him now, and he didn't want to have to repeat himself.

He and Ryan walked into the room. The principal looked up and glared at him. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in? Do you know how many criminal acts you've committed?” the principal started, he paused so Brendon assumed that the questions weren't rhetorical.

“I am aware of the criminal acts, however I am not in nearly as much trouble as you think I am,” Brendon answered calmly.

“Boy! You have brought a weapon to school and used it to harm another student. That student is dead now, Mr. Urie because of you. You killed him.”

Brendon flinched a little inwardly the only regret was that Howard did have a family of some kind that would probably be affected by this. But on the outside he remained composed. “I know that. I also have a license for that.” He really couldn't resist being a smartass.

That stopped the principal for a second. “What do you mean? This is not the time to be screwing around Mr. Urie.”

He refrained from rolling his eyes and reached into his pocket. He flipped the wallet-like black square opened and showed Ryan and the principal his badge, he then dug into one of the pouches and pulled out a small card that was indeed his license to kill. Both were left speechless.

“I'm calling the police and your parents,” the principal said turning.

“What for?” Brendon asked.

“Forgery, murder, assault, and coming to school armed.”

Brendon grabbed the phone. “This badge is not fake, I always come to school armed in case of situations like this, those boys started it and were going to help Howard in his killing spree, and killing Howard was unavoidable, he was a threat and as is stated in my license my obligation to protect the others was higher than sparing his life. Call my parents and I promise they'll tell you the same thing.”

“Give me my phone.”

Brendon handed the phone over and watched Ryan while he waited for the end of the principal's conversation with his parents. Ryan looked back at him and mouthed, “Is it true?” He nodded. He sat down in one of the chairs and Ryan sat next to him.

“I'm not scared of you Brendon,” he said quietly. “I was, but I'm not now.”

Brendon nodded. He understood what Ryan meant it just hurt him that Ryan could be afraid of him. “I understand; it's not every day your best friend pulls out a gun and saves your life. You probably thought that I'd brought it for the same reason Howard did and that I was insane or something.”

Ryan made a noise of agreement and took Brendon's hand. “Yeah, I thought you were his backup or something at first. Then I thought that you were really getting information because you wanted to team up with him. But when he hit me, and you yelled my name I knew that you were concerned and that you weren't going to join him. When you shot him, that's when I was the most afraid of you though. It seemed effortless, almost like you had done it before.”

He tried not to show how much that statement hurt and held onto Ryan's hand tighter. “I have shot people before, and I've only fatally shot a few people. But it does take a toll, I regret that I had to do it, not that I did it, because he would have killed you if I hadn't moved first.”

“So, my best friend's an FBI agent huh?”

“Special agent Brendon Boyd Urie at your service.” He said wryly.

Ryan was looking at him in a mixture of gratitude, awe, and happiness. Brendon didn't think he knew how much he wanted to kiss him right now. But he held himself back, now was not the time.

The principal turned his attention to them again. “Your parents are on their way.” Brendon noticed that he didn't say anything about the police, because a small part of him believed Brendon. Those psychology classes didn't seem so pointless anymore. Being able to read people you don't like was fun.

Not even five minutes later his mom and dad came into the office. “Explain Brendon,” his dad said. They weren't mad; they were only asking what was going on.

“Your son brought a weapon to school and shot another student. Then he pulled a fake badge out of his pocket and attempted to justify his actions.” The principal answered for him.

“Why did you shoot?” his mom asked.

“I affirmed that he was serious and dangerous because he shot at me and hit me in the shoulder, then he was about to shoot Ryan in the head. His plan was to make this a major shooting worthy of national news and send a message of some kind.”

“Speaking of him, Ross why are you here?” the principal barked at Ryan.

Ryan didn't respond because he was staring at Brendon's left shoulder. “Brendon, your arm,” he said, the scared expression was on his face again.

Brendon looked down and saw the blood soaking through his shirt. His own eyes widened and he tore his t-shirt sleeve up. The bullet hadn't exactly just grazed his shoulder; it was a bit deeper than he'd thought and it was bleeding quite a bit more. “Shit,” he hissed through his teeth.

His father was soon in motion; he pulled a small bundle out of one of his many pockets and began to clean and stitch up his shoulder. Brendon gritted his teeth.

His mom was nodding. “Well done.”

“Well done?!” The principal yelled indignantly. “He murdered one of his classmates-“

“While trying to protect another of his classmates and the rest of the school,” his father interrupted, standing up after finishing with Brendon's shoulder. “He's no criminal. The rest of the Bureau will agree so there is no point in notifying the police.”

“It's real?” the principal asked quietly.

“Yes. Now if that is all, we will be going now. Come on Brendon, you too Ryan,” his mom said kissing her son and his best friend on the forehead.

His mom and dad walked out of the door ahead of him and Ryan. Outside of the door there was a crowd of people that lined up on both sides and when they saw Brendon come out with Ryan at his side they started to clap. He blushed and smiled back; he didn't do this for glory or praise, he did it to protect people. And he didn't even start out doing it by choice.

His parents raised him to be like them and to be able to be a part of the FBI someday. He was put into the actual training when he was about nine. A lot of the other men had resented training with a nine-year old but there was nothing they could do about it. When he finished training they had no choice but to assign him on, that's how well he'd done. He'd been on plenty of missions and he was stationed at the school partly to keep watch for stuff like this and to be the first one to begin to handle it.

He reached down and held onto Ryan's hand as they walked out of the door and into his parents' car.

“We're taking you two home, you've both had big days already. You can get your homework tomorrow or later. But for now you're going to our house,” his mom said.

“We have to go back to the office, but Ryan you're allowed to stay,” his dad chimed in.

“Okay. Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Urie,” Ryan answered.

His parents dropped them off at the house and the two teenagers went through the door. They went into the kitchen first and gathered and made food. In a few minutes they went out to the couch with a bowl of popcorn, two bags of chips, and a bag of pretzels. They put a movie into the DVD player and ate almost all of the food. They were exhausted as their adrenaline finally ran out of their system.

Brendon inched closer to Ryan so they were touching again. He wanted him to know that he would be there with him and for him no matter what.

Then Ryan turned his face to Brendon. “Thank you.”

“I couldn't dream of letting anyone hurt you, Ryro. You're too important to me.”

“So what my dad does must drive you crazy.”

“Yes. Every time you tell me about what he does to you I want to go and arrest him myself or make him feel the pain he makes you feel.”

Ryan looked him in the eyes and they leaned forward so their lips brushed. They leaned forward more so the kiss became a little deeper.

Brendon put his hands on the sides of Ryan's face and Ryan laced his fingers through his hair. His heart was soaring; this was something that he'd wanted for quite a long time.

He felt Ryan's tongue on his bottom lip and he opened his mouth to let him in. Their tongues danced together and the two boys slid down so they were lying on the couch. After a few minutes of making out they parted to breathe.

“I'm so lucky to have you, B,” Ryan said, resting his head on Brendon's shoulder. Brendon put his arm around Ryan.

“And you always will,” he responded, resting their foreheads together. They then fell asleep pressed together.

***************************************

More evidence of my insomnia, I've been working on this for two days. I'm still doing `Know Your Enemy' this is just a little one-shot to work on when the other gets slow. I've already got six pages of that one written up. My hope is to have it finished by the end of next week, no promises though. I hope you liked my little digression; it was something playing on my mind. Review please, let me know what you think.

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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