Story Summary: Shortly following the death of his father, Blaine Anderson shows up at Dalton Military Academy, a place everyone agrees he is totally unsuited for. Despite this, he is shockingly recruited into the elite 1st Squadron by Captain Sebastian Smythe. What Blaine doesn't know is Sebastian is actually a member of the secret organization AVIARY and he is their mission.
Warnings: Please read all chapter warnings but topics will include loss of a family member, past violence, parental homophobia/emotional abuse, psychological manipulation, black mail and political corruption.
Blaine's father's death will be a reoccurring theme throughout the story.
After the events of September 11, 2001 in New York City, representatives of world governments, business and finance met in a secret location with one mission in mind. They would form a covert organization to go after "the bad guys" in a way none of them could…no borders, no laws, no questions asked.
When the meeting ended, billions of dollars of start-up were pledged and one person at the table was designated to form AVIARY…
Anonymous
Verification (and abatement of)
Illegal
Activity (and)
Regime
(vulnerabilit)Y
What could they say? The guy in charge had a thing for birds.
10 years later, the world's richest man, Winston Anderson, dies while working on a project AVIARY is desperate to get their hands on. All of their efforts are ineffective, to the point they are at a loss on how to move forward.
And then one day Anderson's youngest son unexpectedly arrives at Dalton Military Academy.
DALTON MILITARY ACADEMY: WESTERVILLE, OHIO 2011
Blaine ran his fingers along the piano keys, feeling settled for the first time all day. He had only been at Dalton for three days and already knew he'd made a gigantic mistake. He wished he could talk to his father. Winston Anderson would know what to do.
And just like that he wanted Daddy to make it better. Damn it! Hadn't he come to Dalton to learn how to stand on his own two feet, or as he described it to Cooper, Be a grown-ass man?
"I knew it was you, Anderson" said a voice from the doorway. The tone both unnerved and intrigued Blaine at the same time, which meant it could only be one person.
"Is there something I can do for you, Captain Smythe?" Blaine asked as he rose to attention.
For the past 2 hours, Blaine had sat mesmerized through an orientation led by Captain Sebastian Smythe of 1st Squadron. Around Dalton he was referred to as James Bond…highly trained, resourceful and intelligent (as well as notorious playboy) wrapped into one debonair and self-assured package. He was everything Blaine wanted to become. Well, not the man whore (not his words) part, the debonair and self-assured part.
But why would the Captain want to talk to him? In Dalton hierarchy, he was literally a nobody.
Blaine didn't realize he asked the questions aloud.
"I was passing by and was curious because I didn't recognize the song" he explained as he motioned for Blaine to retake his seat at the piano. "I take pride in my musical knowledge repertoire as it is a Life Skill I have chosen to hone. What's the title?"
"There isn't one. It's just something I'm working on." It took everything within Blaine not to smile when the Captain appeared to be impressed. Not wearing his emotions on his sleeve…could that go on his Life Skills list?
"Oh, a love song for some lucky guy?"
How?...Did he?…Of course, the man whore (not his words) knew he was gay. "More like the idea of a guy."
"What's the problem?"
"His girlfriend."
"I see. So, how talented are you?" Blaine was unable to hide his expression (shock) this time, but in his defense, Captain Sebastian Fucking Smythe's voice made everything sound like sex. "I meant the song writing, Anderson."
"Juilliard was impressed." Shit! That snap was probably going to cost him a few hundred push-ups.
However, it wasn't the case. "Prove it. Make up something right now. Something about me."
Unfortunately, he only ever wrote sap like what he was working on earlier for…nope, not going there. For Captain Sebastian Fucking Smythe, Blaine wanted the music and lyrics to be smooth, yet snappy and a little snarky. The problem was, the longer he looked, the more he felt something was missing underneath that masterfully polished exterior.
And he had the feeling that something was the real Sebastian Smythe.
Tell me something, boy
Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void?
Or do you need more?
Ain't it hard keeping it so hardcore?
Oh Shit! Oh Shit! Oh Shit! Before the last note vanished, panic set in. Despite the circumstances, Blaine knew he had stepped over so many lines there was no going back.
He thought he would vomit when Captain Smythe snapped to attention requiring him to do the same. "Cadet Anderson, it is my pleasure to welcome you to 1st Squadron. Gather your belongings and meet me at our barracks' great room in 1 hour. We'll do intake at that time."
He left without further explanation, leaving Blaine dumbfounded. First of all, WTF? Like seriously, WTF? When he finally assured himself he had heard correctly, the next question was why. Why would he be recruited into 1st Squadron? They were the best of the best of the best. Did he actually impress Captain Sebastian Fucking Smythe with his verse? Hopefully he'd get answers at intake.
He was half-way through packing when his current dorm leaders informed him, in no uncertain terms, he had most likely been pranked.
Why would 1st Squadron recruit you, Anderson?
Music? Seriously? Smythe was fucking with you. Or, more likely, wants to fuck you.
I'd leave your shit. You wouldn't want the humiliation of dragging it back and have everyone in the dorm hear you thought you were recruited by 1st Squadron. Although, I'm pretty fucking sure all of Dalton will know about this by then.
1st Squadron's barracks were on the other side of campus which gave Blaine plenty of time to stoke his anger. He was done. Dalton was a mistake, he could admit that now. However, he wasn't going to leave without telling Captain Sebastian Fucking Smythe exactly what he thought of him.
While Blaine was dealing with his whole Have I just been pranked? scenario at his dorm, Sebastian made it back to 1st Squadron's barracks. He wondered how Blaine would react to the difference between open-bay dorm he had been in and the individual suite he would be assigned. At least he tried to. That piece of music Blaine wrote shook him in a way nothing ever had…and he had been through some shit.
"Mission accomplished?"
Sebastian hadn't realized he wasn't alone when he entered the great room, but he should have. There wasn't a chance in hell Wes wasn't going to try to micromanage this. "Yes, Anderson should be here in 45."
"Blaine."
"Blaine what?"
"No matter the circumstances of his recruitment, he will be a member of 1st Squadron. When we are off duty, especially within these walls, we use first names. You need to call him Blaine or he's going to figure out pretty quickly he's here for more than the bullshit reason we're giving him."
"Hey! Commandant Martin only gave us 24 hours to come up with a believable reason the rest of Dalton would buy. You're just pissed he made me Mission Leader."
"That's not what I'm talking about Sebastian and you know it."
Choosing Dalton over the Ivy League might have been questionable to some but never to Wes Montgomery. The college, with its well drilled cadets in crisply pressed uniforms, was not a typical military academy. The vast majority of those who graduated would never serve in any form of traditional armed forces.
Dalton's true mission was two-fold. The first was to instill personal discipline while building a set of what the Academy referred to as Life Skills, necessary to advance any agenda. So, besides rigorous academics and physical training, Academy courses included subjects such as mixology, ballroom dancing and Wes' favorite…Stimulating small talk, it's more than the weather.
The second fell to the simple but true statement of It's not what you know, it's who you know. The Cadet Force was made of several sub groups to accomplish this…military die-hards…sons of the rich and powerful sent to get their shit together…individuals with unique talents that usually left them with the options of Dalton or prison…the highly driven (like Wes) who saw the potential in befriending these people...and the future spies.
Yes, those kind of spies
David said he was insane, but Wes knew Sebastian was definitely on that track, especially when Commandant Martin appointed him Mission Leader in the recruitment of Cadet Blaine Anderson. As 1st Squadron's Commander, Wes usually had complete autonomy when it came to the squadron's assignments and he never would have put the egotistical asshole (despite being one of his best friends) with someone as fragile as Anderson.
The strange call he received an hour later was what got him to calm down (and confirmed his suspicions). It was his dad telling him to follow orders. Considering Wesley Montgomery, Sr. was the current National Security Advisor, he was willing to do just that...for now.
Anyway, he didn't care what else was going on (Ok, he did but told himself he didn't). He wasn't letting Sebastian (or anyone else) ruin 1st Squadron's Senior Graduation Challenge. Like he said earlier, he already thought it was bullshit because of their rush to include Blaine.
"You read the same information I did, Seb. I'm amazed Blaine's still here. If you scare him off, we lose our connection to Burt Hummel and our plan to get into the House Chamber is fucked."
It was an informal conversation but Wes was still his Commander so Sebastian took a seat as he bit his lip and began to count to 20. He also knew Wes' veiled comments had nothing to do with the pissing contest they'd been in since he was named Mission Leader. "I'm not a slut, Wes. I have not fucked anyone at Dalton this or any other year. However, if a Cadet, of his own volition, decides knowing how to properly suck cock is a Life Skill that will get him ahead…pun intended…in the future, I am more than willing to let him practice on mine."
"Seb…"
"Anderson is hot, with probably the most amazing ass I've ever seen. He was also never an option."
"What's never an option?"
Sebastian and Wes turned to face the three other members of the squadron who had arrived. 1st Squadron was so difficult to get into the number of cadets maxed out at 10 instead of 30 in a standard unit. They were currently at six, seven with Blaine. "It was never an option for Trent to be here" Sebastian told them. "Something science…yada yada…DNA…science, microscopes…whatever."
Outside, Blaine reached 1st Squadron's barracks only to find it locked with no visible bell, speaker box or even camera to wave into. Why was he surprised? It had all been a prank. Out of frustration he smacked his hand on the tinted glass door. The next thing he knew his fingerprints and the following data appeared.
Anderson, Blaine Devon
Rank: Cadet1
Born: February 5, 1993
Columbus, Ohio
Dalton ID Number: 123874
Designation: 1st Squadron
Entry Approved
The surprise of the doors opening was matched by the fact that Sebastian was far from alone. "Welcome, Cadet Anderson, I'm Commander Wesley Montgomery. You've met Captain Smythe. This is Lt. Commander Thaddeus Harwood, Captain Hunter Clarington and Major David Roberts. You'll meet 1st Lt. Trent Nixon later. Where are your belongings?"
Oh, Shit! They really wanted him? "Sir, I…uh, I was assured by my dorm leaders Captain Smythe was playing a freshman prank as I have no skills which would justify placement in 1st Squadron…Sir."
Harwood, Clarington and Roberts all looked to Smythe then just got up and left. It unnerved Blaine they hadn't received their silent orders from the Commander. He must have noticed (yup, had to work on not showing his emotions). "This is not a prank, Cadet Anderson, I assure you. Would you please join Captain Smythe while I prepare?"
Blaine sat in one of the ridiculously comfortable chairs, still focused on the abrupt disappearance of the others. How did Smythe get them to do that with just a look? And why would they follow his order (albeit silent) when Harwood and Roberts outranked him and Clarington was his equal?
Oh yeah, because he was Captain Sebastian Fucking Smythe!
He had almost forgotten about the Commander until he flipped over a large whiteboard. On the back side was Blaine's life in one meticulously organized presentation. "As you may know, all Senior Cadets are required to complete a Squadron Graduation Challenge using not only the Life Skills we have mastered here at Dalton but the contacts we've made."
"I'm not a senior"
"Two points for the new guy" the previously Captain said with enough snark to earn him a glare from the Commander. Then Blaine watched in awe as he walked to the board to take over the narrative. His confidence was hypnotic but why would the Commander relinquish control when it was clear he put the display together?
"For this year's challenge each squad must replace a well-known object with a replica for one hour then go back and replace the original item without anyone being the wiser. Since we're 1st Squadron, our Squadron Graduation Challenge is expected to go above and beyond."
"So, you have to steal something?"
"No, or then it becomes a crime and, in our case, a federal felony." The Captain tapped on a picture of the US House of Representatives. "Wes…Commander Montgomery has a gavel he uses during more formal meetings. We hate it. Hunt…Captain Clarington has a list of ways to literally shove it up his ass."
Blaine really hoped that was a joke. Captain Clarington's reputation around Dalton could be summed up in one word…scary.
And then the light bulb went on. At least Blaine thought it did. "The gavel looks just like the one used by the Speaker of the House. You want me to call my brother? Coop's a Dalton grad, you don't need me."
Obviously, he was wrong.
"Stop thinking like you're stuck in concrete and start thinking like a song writer. See the bits and pieces and put them together like music and lyrics." Before Blaine could answer, Smythe began to yell louder. "Damn it, Anderson! We're lucky no one will be shooting at us during this mission. You'd get us all killed!"
"Captain Smythe! Dismissed!"
"Command…"
"Dismissed!"
Blaine held his breath to see what would happen, but the Captain did as ordered. For some reason, by doing so, this version impressed him more than the cocky SOB who had given his orientation earlier.
"Apologizes, Blaine…may I call you Blaine? And please, call me Wes. This has just become an informal conversation. You'll learn how to tell the difference soon enough." Wes didn't give him a chance to think about what had happened in front of him, going to the whiteboard and jumping right in to derail any damage. "We can't use your brother because he is a Dalton alumnus but we can use your sister."
"Stop" Blaine went to the board and took down the picture Wes was pointing to "Rachel Berry is not my sister."
The investigation into Blaine was rushed but not flawed. "Ok, step-sister."
"Daughter of the man my biological mother married."
"I'm sorry, we thought you were closer. You went to a party at her house last weekend, right? That's how we got the idea for our Squadron Graduation Challenge."
That fucking party. How had he ever been talked into going? Now, not only did he have the memory of his disastrous first kiss, and Rachel knowing about it, he had this mess to deal with. And how did 1st Squadron know about the party in the first place? Obviously, they had done research but most was superficial or flat-out wrong like thinking for one second he considered Pamela Anderson-Berry his mother.
He was so far into his head it took a moment to notice Wes handing him a new picture "Kurt Hummel?"
"How well do you know him away from Rachel? They're best friends…or did we get that wrong too?"
"No, they've been best friends since Kindergarten. Kurt's sweet, the few times I've talked to him. Think he might have a little crush on me. Um, Command…"
"Wes, remember? This is an informal conversation. And Blaine, we would never do something like use your sexuality to complete this challenge if that was what you were thinking."
Blaine took a breath. It was exactly where his train of thought had gone. He assumed (hoped) his sexual preference rested within Sebastian's gaydar since the whiteboard had no HE'S GAY section but Wes let him know otherwise.
A problem for another day. The problem right now was trying to figure out what the hell Kurt Hummel had to do with anything. It actually didn't take him long to figure it out, correctly this time. "Kurt is the son of Congressman Burt Hummel. His 2nd Annual Holiday Sing-a-long for Families of Ohio's Deployed Soldiers & Sailors is the day Congress adjourns for their winter recess. While the House Chamber isn't open, tours are available to performers and guests. 1st Squadron needs on that guest list."
"The performers list."
"Performers?"
"Hunter won't perform so he'd need the guest list but yes, performers. We won't embarrass you…promise. Do you think you can use Kurt to get to his dad?"
"Yes, but it's not a good idea."
Wes walked over and took a seat, encouraged in how the recruit had become more confident in just those few minutes. It had been excruciating watching him struggle, but even with Sebastian (supposedly) in charge, he had insisted Blaine come to his own epiphany and not have information spoon-fed to him. "Explain"
"Rachel has been trying to set-up me and Kurt since I came out. Any call to Kurt would be seen as me coming to my senses and could cause hurt feelings when he or better yet, they realize it's not. If I called Congressman Hummel personally, and ask him to put you…"
"Us"
"Us?" Blaine froze. He had assumed he wouldn't be performing since he wasn't a Senior.
"We'll discuss logistics later with the entire squad but I like your solution, Blaine. Can we call the Congressman now?"
It was time…yes or no. Yes, and he was in 1st Squadron. No, and he was done at Dalton.
He couldn't do that to Marley and Kitty.
"Cooper gave me Congressman Hummel's number in case of emergency since their offices are next to each other. It is on my phone which I had to turn in and won't get it back until this weekend."
Wes looked at his watch and smiled. This was going to be fun. "Your phone is in your room with the rest of your belongings. Where do you think Thad, David and Hunter went?"
"I, um…I, um…my own room?"
"1st Squadron perk." Wes stood and stretched before directing Blaine to follow him. "I know you'll have to tell the Congressman our group is from Dalton but don't use 1st Squadron. We call ourselves The Warblers."
"The Warblers?"
"Yeah, The Dalton Military Academy Warblers. The other guys in the squad have a thing for birds."
Note:
Shallow:Germanotta, Stefani; Ronson, Mark; Rossomando, Anthony; Wyatt, Andrew 2018