**The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. The plot line is completely mind however.**

Author's Note: Well it feels like it's been a long time since I've written anything extremely brilliant or what not. But yeah, I actually really like this. It's completely AU, taking place in modern times WAT.

The man's gray eyes watched the rhythmic, steady ticking of the old grandfather clock. Normally, it would've calmed his nerves, but at the moment, nothing did. He was completely antsy, pacing his office, his hands behind his back. His suede shoes squeaked softly on the wooden floors, and he adjusted his tie for maybe about the millionth time in the last hour. Taking a deep breath, he sat in his chair, letting out a long sigh out of anxiousness and uncertainty for the future. He turned to peer out his window which had a long curtain in front of it, prohibiting the sun to enter the room. The only warmth he could receive was from the dim chandelier above him.

The door burst open and in came Senior Agent Pevensie himself. A tall, composed man with broad shoulders and an easy smile on his face entered the office which allowed Kirke to take a breather. The older man smiled back slightly, dipping his head at his senior agent. At least he could always count on Warren to be on time. Throughout the years, he had been his loyal right hand man. After his children were born, Warren wanted to take on a less dangerous position; he didn't want his children to grow up without a father and he could no longer afford to have the risk of getting an injury.

"You called?" he asked, leaning against the door frame. Kirke motioned for the man to come closer. He shut the door behind him and took a seat in the chair across from Kirke. What separated them was his desk in the middle.

"Yes, Agent. We have an assignment and we would be happy to assign your children to the case." His blue eyes widened, and his grin broadened.

"Absolutely!"

"Not! Are you crazy Warren?!" the shrill voice came from the door. Agent Helen Pevensie rushed into the office on the verge of hysterics. Her mouth was curled into a frown, and her big brown eyes flitted nervously between her husband and Director. Her brown curls bounced around as she continued to stare at them incredulously as if they had suddenly turned into talking cockroaches.

"What's ever the matter Dear?" Warren asked, confused. He walked over to his wife, resting a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to soothe her for whatever reason she had begun to panic for in the first place. She wrenched her shoulder free.

"Don't 'dear' me!" she snarled before marching up to Kirke.

"Mister Kirke with all due respect," (frankly, she did not sound respectful at all), "our children are not to be put on the Miraz Rydeen Case under no circumstance." Warren suddenly went quiet before looking at his superior with darkened eyes. Kirke got up to explain, his façade never faltering. He simply had to make them understand. Sympathize with them. He walked slowly over to the pair with a hearty sigh and a slight smile lingering on the corner of his mouth.

"The children are the best advantage we have in a case like this—"

"No, he is a dangerous man. I don't want my children around anyone like him!" Helen cut in, ignoring her husband's words of comfort. Kirke chose to ignore her as he continued on with what he was saying.

"We won't need Lucy so much so you don't have to worry about the dear. We need Edmund." Helen relaxed a bit to know her youngest child wouldn't be tampered with and thrown into a hopeless case.

"What for?" she asked, her voice low. Every time her children got assigned a case, Helen always worried for them even Peter, her oldest. No matter how old and experienced they were, they were still her babies and always would be.

"We need to focus on Miraz's daughter, Lilliandil. We're hoping she could give us information."

"So you want my children to pretend to be her friend so you can get all the evidence you need to bust this guy?!" she asked. Clearly, everything Kirke said contradicted with Helen's morals.

"No, they will also protect her," he reasoned.

"Helen it will be a great opportunity for the children to take on a case on their own. Especially good for Peter," Warren said gently to her, moving closer to his distraught wife. "You know how much he wants to be the best Agent there ever was." Hurt coursed through her veins when she realized her husband was siding with their boss, but she nodded, trying to reason with them.

"Do you think they're ready for a case this big?" she said quietly, her eyes going back over to Kirke. He offered her another smile and a nod of his head.

"I think they're more than ready. Their abilities are outstanding."

Helen's eyes flashed helplessly to her husband who just offered her a friendly shrug. She grit her teeth at Kirke who just smiled slightly, his eyes twinkling...

.o.O.o.

"Where are they?" he muttered to himself. Agitatedly, he reached over, his hand brushing over the telephone. It would probably be best not to page them again, but it concerned him that they hadn't arrived yet. His fingers, which were heavily cloaked with arthritis, stopped him from picking up the phone. He looked at his frail, wrinkly hand once more before wincing. When he was a young agent, he was alert and ready to perform any task that he was supposed to. He looked up to the coordinator greatly, an old man with gray hair and a nicely pressed suit with wary eyes which flitted in every direction; he appeared to resemble his leader a lot more than he would like to admit now that he had hit the ripe age of sixty-five.

"I would've never been this late when I was an agent," he mumbled, peering at the grandfather clock that taunted him from across the room. He jabbed the call button on the phone and put it to his ear, ignoring his fingers which were groaning at him in protest. He would need to take an aspirin later.

"Yes, Macredy," he said slowly, picking a thread off his suit. "Please page the Pevensies." His assistant answered from the other line, her voice pacient.

"They've been paged an hour ago. They should be approaching your office any moment now sir." She hung up. Even though she was gone, he felt comfortable warmth wrap around him. Macredy's words always reassured him and calmed his nerves. He sipped his water. Unlike their parents, the Pevensie children were almost never on time.

Their appointment was at 1:00 sharp. It was 1:01. Kirke held his breath, thoroughly disappointed that the young Pevensie children didn't take time management more seriously. He would have to bring it up with their parents. A hesitant knock came from the door and jolted the old man out of his thoughts. "Come in." The knob turned.

In front of him stood a dark, tall woman. Her sharp blue eyes flashed dangerously at him, and her dark brown hair was draped over her shoulder. Her beauty made all heads turn, and her grace kept her valuable to the office. Susan was by far the most intelligent, resourceful out of the four agents so far. She was such a prize to everyone, and the institute was lucky to have her and her siblings. A hint of a smile danced on her red lips, and she dipped her head at him, clearly out of respect.

"Kirke," she greeted. Her voice was overly formal, too stiff. He eyed her, pressing his hands together before resting his chin on his fists as she slowly approached him. She didn't make a sound as she moved towards him, her eyes trained on his face like how a cat looks at its prey before pouncing.

"Miss Pevensie," he acknowledged, motioning to the chair in front of him. "Have a seat." She hesitated for just a moment, eyeing the three seats in front of her as if trying to decipher another code.

"Out of all due respect sir, but there are only three chairs." She paused to take a breath, "and four of us." Kirke held back a laugh, but he couldn't resist smiling at her comment. Her intelligence made her very likable and high ranked at the institute. She was one of the youngest there, being twenty.

"You see correctly. But it depends on who gets here last that will stand. Early bird gets the worm." Susan looked at him, unsure of what to say. She opened her mouth to respond before closing it again, taking a seat. It was awkward, just the two of them. Susan never really associated with Kirke before and the fact that he had requested her presence startled her. In a bad way. Susan did not like surprises. She was always prepared, and being caught off guard usually made her pay the price.

Shifting her weight around slightly, Susan looked away uncomfortably from under Kirke's scrutinizing eyes. Another knock came from the door.

"Come in," Kirke called, clearly relieved that the agents were finally showing up. The door opened again, and this time two agents walked in contrasting in height. One was a tall boy with tousled blonde hair, handsome with striking eyes as blue as the ocean. He held his head high with such confidence that Kirke didn't even know was possible to have at such a young age. Peter was one of the best fighters and leaders at the institute. He was twenty-two years old, and Kirke could tell one day Peter would be leading them. Throwing them into battle and strategizing their next missions. Upon his broad shoulders perched a young girl around the age of sixteen. Her brown eyes stared warmly at Kirke, and she flashed a big smile in his direction, shouting out his name. Caramel hair was forced into a ponytail, but some curls managed to escape their prison and framed her face nicely. Her legs dangled down to the boy's hips, due to her height. Lucy Pevensie was the youngest, but there was a quality to her that made her the kindest.

Kirke's eyes softened when he saw the girl. A smile crossed his face. He loved Lucy. Having her around was such a joy, and she lit up the institute, even in its darkest days. "Lucy," he said fondly. Her smile lit up most of her face, and with that, she somehow flipped from over Peter's head and landed gracefully on her feet, dashing to Kirke and wrapping her skinny arms around him in a warm embrace.

Susan stiffened when she saw this; not because she didn't love her sister but because she thought it was improper to think of the authority as your equal. You needed to give them respect to get it. Susan did not appreciate Lucy's behavior; yes, she tolerated it for the most part, but she couldn't deal with it. Peter took the seat next to Susan, dipping his head at Kirke, who anxiously hugged Lucy back.

"Sir," he responded politely, a small smile drawn on his lips. Kirke nodded back before sending Lucy to the last chair, the one besides Peter. Clasping his hands together, Kirke's white eyebrows knit together in seriousness.

"Down to business," he started before Lucy interrupted, her soprano voice ringing out into the silence which had been shattered the moment she arrived. Her eyes flashed worriedly between Peter and Susan before anxiously looking behind her back to the door, brown hair flying into Peter's face, causing him to let out a small sneeze.

"Wait? What about Edmund?" she asked before getting an annoyed look at Susan. As if on cue, the door swung open, hitting the wall with an ungodly shriek causing some of the books on Kirke's bookshelf to topple over. They hit the ground with a loud thump, the dust bunnies flying through the air which made the fact that they had not been touched for some time quite clear.

"Sorry I'm late," a tenor voice said smoothly. Susan turned, completely horrified at her brother's entrance. Edmund was maybe ten minutes late (fashionably late as he liked to call it), and he didn't look sorry at all. In fact, his face was rather smug.

Edmund Pevensie, an eighteen year old agent was by far the cockiest and self-indulgent of the four siblings. He stood maybe around six feet tall, but you could never tell due to his bad posture. He stood in the door frame, a lazy grin on his face. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and the lanky boy leaned against the door frame, dark brown eyes raking over the room, taking in all his surroundings. Two shocked siblings and one heavily annoyed one. The only thing that didn't seem so dark about Edmund was the freckles that dispersed over one cheek and went to the other, dotting the bridge of his nose and cheeks with 'cinnamon'. But there was something almost intimidating about the boy. He raised an eyebrow at them before sauntering over to the group after slamming the door using his foot to push it closed.

He went over to shake Kirke's hand before addressing the situation. "Okay, so you call me to your meeting," he drawled, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Yet there is no seat for me to sit? I'm hurt." Edmund laughed lightly. Susan scoffed, standing up to fume at her brother, lower lip jut out in a pout.

"Even royalty must learn to stand once in awhile, Your Highness," she spat at him, clenching her hands into fists before glaring at her brother, icy eyes burning into his skull. Edmund just brushed his sister, not the least bit intimidated by her despite their whopping age difference of two years, her being the older.

"Settle down you two," Kirke replied patiently, waving off the two quarreling siblings. They did not calm down. Susan didn't at least. She continued to glare at Edmund out of the corner of her eye, but he paid no mind to her. Instead, he pushed a few pictures and books to the side before sitting on the desk instead, yawning loudly.

"So please tell me Diggory why you have called me here today because I've got much better things to do then just do your dirty work for you." He picked the dirt from underneath his short, clipped fingernails. A growl erupted from the back of Susan's throat. Peter reached over to rest a hand on her arm warningly.

"Don't let him get to you," he tried. Susan shrugged him off, whacking his hand away.

"Don't touch me." he put his hands up in defense, scooting away from his sister slightly, although his blue eyes were hurt.

"Stop bickering this instant and listen up!" Kirke snapped at them, fuming. The four children looked over at him, wide eyed and alert. "Thank you." Pulling a file out of his desk drawer, the word 'CONFIDENTIAL' was stamped onto the crisp file in big red letters.

"Ooh, private stuff!" Edmund replied, but before he could reach out and grab it, Kirke held it far away from the boy, shaking his head.

"We have a new case."

Now they were all listening— staring at him in silence.

"Have you heard of Miraz Rydeen?" Susan looked at him with a look that asked him for permission to speak. "Yes, Miss Pevensie?"

"Isn't he the CEO of the corporate building?"

"The one that makes the lawn mowers for fun?"

"Hush Ed!"

"Yeah, he seems pretty shady." Edmund laughed but Susan made a face.

Kirke flashed a look of frustration at the four siblings before sighing. He definitely would need an aspirin. He closed his eyes for a moment before looking up at the ceiling, trying to clear his head. Edmund looked up too as if Kirke was staring at something amazing which he wasn't. "You're both correct," he replied after awhile, straining to keep his voice level. "Yes, he makes big money and is known all over New York. And yes, he does make lawn mowers." He leaned closer to the four, eyes dark. "But there's a rumor that he's more than a CEO. He's a mad genius." Edmund, who had just been picking at a loose thread at the hem of his shirt, now leaned in with deep interest sparkling in his dark eyes. Pleased that it was silent at last and he had their attention, Kirke continued. "We think he's trying something. Experimenting. There are claims that he's up to something, but I could never figure out what."

Everyone who was sane enough knew that Miraz Rydeen was a very powerful man. Most common folk chose to stay away from him because his wrath was not something to be taken lightly. He had put at least five other companies out of business and left a couple recent ones bankrupt. But then again, the Agency was not common folk.

"So we're just going after a crazy business man who may or may not have a secret lab in his basement? Wow." Edmund lost interest as soon as he got it. Swinging his long legs down onto the floor, he let out a dramatic yawn and stretched, his muscles flexing as he moved. Lucy sighed, trying to negotiate with her brother.

"They just want us to check it out."

"Based on a hunch, Luce!" he burst out, glaring at everyone in the room. No one said anything. It was Peter who finally broke the silence, glaring at his brother for being rude.

"So what has this got to do with us?"

"Yeah, what are we doing with this case?"

Kirke smiled knowingly, leaning closer to the four young adults, his eyes sparkling.

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

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