Disclaimer: I do not own any of characters or organizations contained in this fiction and make no profit from it.
A/N: This is my first 5+1 and kind of an experiment. I've been obsessed with Kingsman and the latter Mission Impossible films for a couple of weeks. Not really certain why, but this is just meant to be fun. Please let me know if you like it!
The first time Brandt sees him he dismisses it as his imagination. He's been tracking down an extremist group that has recently been making noise about making dirty bombs and placing them in well-trafficked areas around Paris. As far as IMF intelligence knows they haven't actually made any and IMF would like to keep it that way. He's working this one solo. Since he came back to fieldwork he prefers to work solo unless he's working with Ethan Hunt or someone Ethan has personally vetted. He's worked with Benji a couple more times and he's always enjoyed their time together. Benji makes him laugh, even when he doesn't mean to. He prefers to work with Luther when he needs a hacker. The man is mostly quiet like he prefers to be himself, but also has a wicked sense of humor and is entertaining to grab a drink with after a mission. As much as he trusts and respects Ethan he tries not to work with him unless the need is dire. Ethan is a crazy son of a bitch and somehow he always manages to land the missions the will affect and ultimately direct the fate of the world. He's the IMF's best agent, Brandt has to admit, so it's not all that surprising, but if he had that much pressure on him every single mission he's pretty sure he would have put a bullet in his brain a long time ago. As it is, he still has to take time away from the agency whenever he works with Hunt. He trusts Ethan's judgment implicitly and knows that if Ethan's asking for him then it's not something he can say no to, but it's still enough that even though Ethan gave him the confidence to go back to fieldwork, he prefers to work the one person missions with less of a world impact.
Which is perhaps why he he's currently in this position. Surrounded by the extremists he has been sent to stop, the Uranium they'd just paid millions for sitting at his feet, and the only weapon he has against him the knife he has tucked into the sheath at his back. They're not military trained. Hell, they're barely militia, dumbasses led astray by some whack job doomsayer but, they believe and that makes them dangerous. If he can just get them distracted for long enough he knows he can take them down, but with them as focused on him as they are there is no way that he's getting out of here alive. He keeps his hands up, doesn't bother to reach for the knife that he won't be able to pull without getting shot anyway, and tries to remember if he updated his will recently. He doesn't worry about the Uranium. He sent a transmission to IMF as he was running. The nearest agent is already on the way to provide back up or, in this case, complete the mission.
He isn't prepared when suddenly one of the idiots goes down. His mind catches it in flashes. First is a perfect third eye shot. The second in the circle around him goes down with a throat shot. By the third going down with a shot through the eye he finally gets himself in gear. He takes down two, one with his knife and the other by breaking his neck while the last two are taken down by the sniper he assumes was sent by IMF. He stands for a moment, panting, before he turns to send the sniper a two-fingered salute in thanks for the help. He finds the perch almost immediately with his years of experience and his own limited abilities as a sniper. It's a balcony about seventy-five yards away and four stories up. The gun is resting on the balcony's edge and Brandt wonders for a moment how their sniper managed to get himself there. It's obviously a residential building.
Then his brain catches up with his eyes and he realizes that there is no way that whoever is behind the rifle is IMF. First thing, this guy looks like a barely out of high school kid. Even if IMF hired that young Brandt would have known about him. He has a well-deserved reputation for seeking out, and taking to bed, the best looking men in the force. He has to admit there is no way he wouldn't have heard of this kid, guy, and sought him out when they were both stateside to at least feel out if he'd be interested in a tumble. Second thing, the guy's dressed like someone out of GQ. He's got what appears to be a three-piece suit on, completely spotless, not a winkle, and very stylish thick-framed glasses. IMF has its share of peacocks, but again, if any of them dressed like this guy he'd have heard about him long ago.
He almost puts his hands up, certain that he's going to be the next target, when the guy moves away from the scope. Brandt feels an answering smirk on his lips when he's sent the most charming shit-eating grin he's ever seen and the sniper returns his salute with one of his own, two fingers pressed to the frames of his glasses. It's at that moment that his back up finally arrives, goddamn Ethan Hunt, and what the hell is he going to be dragged into now? They greet each other nearly silently for what can only be five seconds, but when Brandt turns back to the balcony the sniper is gone. He doesn't mention anything to Ethan and though he knows Hunt is extraordinarily observant and has already noticed that he does not have a gun on him and five of the seven bodies around him have been shot, Hunt doesn't say anything.
While the cleaning team does their thing with the Uranium and the bodies Brandt makes his way to the balcony where his sniper was. The apartment is vacant he realizes and when he gets to the balcony there's almost no evidence that the sniper was even there. The dust hasn't been disturbed, there're no shell casings. The only evidence that anyone has been on the balcony in weeks is a small piece of cloth resting on the ledge. A pocket square, Brandt realizes. It's a deep purple and looks like it's made of silk. He picks is up and, on a whim, holds it up to his nose. It smells masculine and earthy and, somehow, flirty. He smiles and puts the scrap of fabric in his pocket before he joins Ethan in the courtyard again and listens as Ethan tells him how they are going to save the world yet again. And the entire time he keeps his hand in his pocket curled around the scrap of fabric left for him.