Chapter One

As Ryan walked up the drive to his house he became instantly aware that something was wrong, after all- the police don't just drop by for a cup of tea and a biscuit. He edged around the police car and walked up to his front door, dropping his school bag and rummaged in his jeans to find a key. He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, he spun round and using the fear that was curling around his abdomen found the adrenaline to put the man attached to the appendage in an arm lock. The man deftly released himself and grabbed Ryan's throat. They stared each other down before both stepping backwards. The man took a badge out of his pocket and Ryan's eyes widened in suprise.

"Detective Inspector Farro, I'm here about your parents"

Ryan Ross fell out of Bed.

He sat up on the carpet and kneaded his forehead. That was the third time in a week. There are only so many times you can relive the day your world is turned upside down before you go mental. He looked around his shabby bedroom of his low rent flat; there were empty coffee mugs and sheets of music everywhere, a giant man in the doorway, the dust was becoming visible and there were several items of girls' underwear hanging from a lamp- There was a man in the doorway? The man moved into the dimly lit room and pulled Ryan off the floor and on to his feet. Ryan became suddenly conscious of the fact he was only in his boxers and cast around for some extra clothing.

"Don't bother," said Detective Inspector Farro "I was just leaving. You're coming down to HQ- there's a car waiting outside, there's no rush."It wasn't quite an order, but it certainly wasn't a request. Farro turned his back and moved through the rest of the cramped flat to the door. "Oh, and good morning." He stated as he closed the door behind him with a snap.

Ryan collapsed back onto his bed and swore. The growing feeling of unease that had been building inside him ever since he'd woken up came to the surface and he began to freak out. The last time Farro came and got him personally he'd ended up working as a plumber to the rich and famous for eight months. He swore again and untangled his long limbs from underneath him. He began to run around his apartment with a rucksack, stuffing in his favourite items. He paused in the kitchen to stuff half a bagel in his mouth. Whilst he chewed he checked the clock and almost choked on the aforementioned food when he registered 3:10am. He sighed. The CIA had never been ones for civilised timing.

It had only been days before his fifteenth birthday when they had barged into his life. Despite Ryan's best efforts they refused to leave.

He ran back into his bedroom and dragged on a pair of battered jeans and a giant hoodie, he frowned. It was not his usual style at all, it would have to do. He almost fell over himself in surprise when his mobile started to vibrate, he shoved a hand down the back of his bed where he knew it had fallen. He pulled it out triumphantly and flipped it open, It was a text. He paled when he read it and threw his phone back on the bed and ran out of the door with his bag.

'There's no rush." it read.

After jumping into the back of the blacked out car Ryan knew he was being driven to the headquarters of an unofficial branch of the CIA. Ryan had never really found out what branch or what they did- only that they seemed to have the power to send him to bizarre places and that his parents had worked there until they'd gotten themselves blown up. Ryan's parents had never been large figured in his life and the few memories he had of them weren't pleasant. He'd spent most of his time home alone as a result. He was an independent but withdrawn child that lived within his own imagination, this meant that it was no stretch for him to believe that his parents belonged to the CIA. It was only years later that the meaning and the implication began to settle in. Sitting in a cramped seat next the head of the department where they worked always brought back their first meeting and today was no different.

He'd been taken out of school and placed in the system but not trained, he was still a minor and they couldn't actually force him to do anything as he wasn't an official 'employee'. That didn't stop them blackmailing him though. He was given an ultimatum. Live in the CIA headquarters and do what we tell you, or foster care. It hadn't taken him five minutes to make a decision. This mystery department was the only connection he had left to his parents, and however much he had hated them he wasn't about to give that up.

Now Five years and three 'unofficial voluntary missions' later he was stepping out of a car and into Farro's office for the fourth time, it hadn't changed a bit. The walls felt exactly as constricting as they always had and the tall man behind the large desk was just as imposing. The man shifted slightly before standing up and taking out a gun he'd left in his pocket, he placed it on the desk and sat down again. Ryan theorised that he hadn't forgotten it was there but was reminding Ryan again who held the power in the room. Farro stretched his hands out on the desk and began to sort through some papers.

After a couple of minutes of awkward silence Farro cleared his throat.

"Ryan, you're 20 years of age now and all grown up. We let you buy your own flat with inheritance money last year and for all intents and purposes- we've left you alone. As our youngest male operative," He paused before repeating, "...as our youngest male volunteer you've been very useful. You helped us infiltrate the drug dealing group within Hollywood and considering your lack of training...well frankly, you exceeded our expectations"

Ryan didn't need reminding about his last mission, for half a year he was trained as a plumber and then marketed to the stars as the most reliable person to call if their million dollar hot tubs were on the fritz, as they then conveniently were. He was then dispatched to 'fix' them, which involved actually fixing them as well as adding a micro bug with a microphone and camera to as many pipes as he could find. He then had to monitor them and check for 'suspicious activity'. Particularly which stars had drugs- and where they were getting them from. He hadn't picked up anything for weeks until a breakthrough moment where he almost took out the main drug supplier with a toolbox he was swinging from one hand as he walked down the road. Farro put a stop to the reminiscing by saying the exact words Ryan had been dreading to hear.

"I'm sorry to inform you that we need you again. You're the only one we can use for this mission; it's only a fairly basic surveillance op. You know the deal, find out what you can and report to us. We'll do all the hard work. I'd much rather use someone else and leave you to your life- god knows we've managed to make it a living hell- but as I said, you're the only one we can use."

Ryan used to think Farro might be a half decent guy, but after years of the same 'I'm ever so sorry but we thought you'd enjoy some mortal peril, please forgive us it won't be that bad' routine he'd given up trying to find a nice thought for the man.

"It's because of your age you see, it's a placement within a school. We'd send an older operative and have them cover as a teacher- but this school is very particular about its teachers. There are only ten and all of them are very well known and some are old boys of the school."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, he didn't like where this was headed. He'd taken his education into his own hands after he dropped out of high school, he'd taught himself anything and everything that grabbed his interest. He hadn't set foot inside a school building for over half a decade and he wasn't about to go back. That was if he had any say in the matter- which he probably didn't. Also- what kind of a school only had ten teachers? As if he was reading his mind Farro carried on.

"St Michael's is a British style private college or finishing school for boys aged 17-21. This is why you're an ideal person to send. There are four years within the school, 17-18 or 'Lower 1st', 18-19 or 'Upper 1st, and so on- with the year you'll be in as the last year called 'Upper 2nd' Imaginative I know." Shrugged Farro as he took in Ryan's disbelieving expression. "I don't own the school kid, it's not my system. It's owned by a Mr Gaskarth and a Mr Urie."

Farro slid several pictures of what looked like a Victorian mansion over to Ryan who flicked through them with wide eyes. The building was impressive and looked about as much like a school as Ryan looked like a spy. It was a building fit more for an English knight and his 80 Butlers than a load of students. He couldn't imagine the mess inside. Farro also handed him a floor plan. There were four floors, the top two looked like they were used for dorms and living space, the bottom floors were obviously where the classrooms were. He counted the rooms and looked up.

"There are 10 classrooms, 10 teachers- that means one teacher per classroom at all times...how many subjects are on offer? How many students are there? What kind of a place is this?" Ryan was trying to do the maths in his head. It was a legal requirement that one teacher could supervise a maximum of 24 students, so that's 240 pupils- but there weren't enough beds, and a school like this would be boarding only- Farro cut off his internal babbling with a wave of his hand.

"It's not really important to the mission-but it's a college specifically for the arts, there are 160 pupils. 75 in the first year, 50 in the second, 25 in the third and a maximum of 15 in your year. They weed them out after each year, and they rarely take new entrants although many drop out. As everyone who is at the school has done their GCSEs or the American equivalent they only offer six subjects throughout the four years that most people have in common. As a student of upper second you would take three subjects. Each student in the last year also picks an optional subject that they are required to research and study themselves. Now- can I finish explaining?" Ryan nodded, remembering that the guy opposite had a licence to bring about the apocalypse if he so wished.

"Ok- so Gaskarth bought the building and Urie manages it- he organises the scholarships, salaries of the teachers and pays for the upkeep of the school. The reason we've got involved is that in the last several years the school has made regular dontations to the government, now we're not complaining as these donations average about five million British Pounds- but we are worried as to where the money is coming from and why is it coming to us? We checked the records. They charge £15,000 sterling for each year at this school, multiply that by 160 and whilst you get an impressive figure but you don't get enough to make everything add up. Which is what makes us think that Urie or Gaskarth has another business running- only we can't find it, which means if it exists it's almost certainly illegal. The CIA can't exactly be funded by illegal means. We've researched as much as we can but recently our searches are drawing blanks."

"Which is where I come in right?" sighed Ryan.

"Exactly. You see the two men both have sons at the school. Brendon Urie and Alex Gaskarth. They're both the same age as you and therefore would be in the same year, we want you to spend your last year trying to get information out of these guys and try to hunt down the missing 2.6 million."

Ryan nodded but then something Farro had said clicked slowly into place in Ryan's mind. His last year?

"Ryan, you'll be 21 at the end of the school year, we can't legally keep you any longer than that if you don't want to stay. Anyway we'd have to pay you, and we can't afford another salary. Think of it like this- before we throw you into the real world we give you an all expenses paid last year of a fabulous education with people your own age at a school for the arts. It wasn't even as hard as anticipated to get you in; they kicked out a few more than usual in the last couple of years. A boy called Brent Wilson just dropped his Upper Second place. You're a musician- you dress like a twat- you'll fit right in."

Ryan's mouth dropped open, he could play the guitar and he had always wanted to be in a band- some people had indeed said he dressed like a twat...or at least a hobo.

"How do you know..?" He spluttered.

"It's my job to know" was the spine chilling response from across the desk. Ryan breathed in and closed his eyes. This in some ways sounded too good to be true. He could set up microphones and equipment easily and a year of stellar education wouldn't hurt him. There had to be a catch.

Farro coughed and in another surreal moment he seemed to know what Ryan was thinking, he had been briefing spies for years so really it was no surprise that he knew their thought processes by now.

"The catch is...well...before I break it to you- let's see your reaction to this..." Farro clicked around on his computer. Farro and turned his screen towards him. When Ryan opened his eyes he really wished he hadn't. He looked at the screen disbelievingly; trying to work out the relevance of the images he was being shown.

"What the actual fuck does gay porn have to do with this?" He calmly enquired.

Ryan thought he saw what could have been an echo of a vindictive smile ghosting the lips of Farro.

"Well...we might just be sending you to the gayest school in the country. Which considering the number of panties I counted while I was in your flat, might be a hard concept to comprehend. We've done a bit of research and Alexander Gaskarth has a boyfriend at the school and there are several other presumed couples in other years. It's an all boys school...and they are all art students. I can't quite believe you didn't see this one coming." Farro allowed himself a small laugh before turning back to Ryan who looked ready to run away.

"I..." Ryan licked his lips dry nervously. He wasn't homophobic and he never had been- but he was probably the straightest person in the history of all straight people. "Can you at least turn that off?" He pleaded and gestured to the video of an athletic blonde haired blue eyed man getting blown by an equally toned and tanned brunette.

When he was at school his slim build and penchant for the arts had left him with quite a reputation, albeit a false one. Ryan hadn't touched another person's dick, let alone done something with one. He shuddered at the idea.

"Oohhhhh is baby Ryro put off by a little bit of boy love?" A high pitched voice behind him caused Ryan to spin round in his chair. Standing by the door was the best reason for being straight that Ryan had ever met. Helena Williams was the person that always gave Ryan all of the details that Farro couldn't be bothered to- she also delighted in giving him a personal 'mission makeover' which always included a new wardrobe and haircut and some lessons on how to act around the people he would meet on the mission. It didn't hurt that she was absolutely stunning with fire truck red hair and lipstick to match. She was dressed head to toe in black. Black jumpsuit, black boots even black nails.

Farro rolled his eyes and turned the screen back towards him. Ryan knew he couldn't exactly turn down this job and Farro knew the prospect of a college for the arts where music was a core subject was going to be enough to convince him.

"Ry pleeeasssee take the mission!" Helena squealed and crushed Ryan into a hug. "I want to give you an art student emo makeover and I reckon I could give you the perfect haircut-oh and of course I'll have to teach you about eyeliner and Oh and I have to tell you everything about the school!" Ryan giggled with her and turned to Farro.

"This might be the least sensible thing I've ever said- but...How bad can it be? I'll take it...but then I'm out of here. One more year- but next September I'm gone." Ryan tried to look Farro in the eyes with little success. Farro gave a small nod and Helena dragged him out of the room and into a nearby lift. She pressed the floor number and started bouncing up and down.

"This is the most short notice makeover I've ever done- you leave tomorrow lunch time! Not that I mind, you're my favourite to work with. You have nice cheekbones. We'll have to lose the hipster look though...not brooding enough" Ryan rolled his eyes as Helena tugged on his muddy brown hair. Helena just grinned at him. The small ruby embedded in the corner of one of her incisors sparkled in the artificial light.

A/N:

So Hi there oh lovely people of FF! This is primarily for Amanda. *waves* HI AMANDA - but please R 'n' R any feedback welcome.
I hope you enjoy your stay with us at St Michael's...I know Ryan will! xo