Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 15:34:28
Kurt patted his pockets as he walked across the lawn, watching Wes out of the corner of his eye as he got Kurt's text and started towards the beach to check on Blaine. Kurt shook his head to himself. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about that part of his assignment right now.

He tried to surreptitiously slide around the side of the house, hoping no one would be paying much attention to him, watching Sylvester and Goolsby move on his phone. There was no dot that identified Doctor Anderson, but Kurt was willing to bet he was with the Stheno executives, since they were moving through the house. Probably headed up the stairs.

He peeled off his tuxedo by the side of the house, hoping no one would notice it lying there. He didn't have time to discretely get back to his car without missing a portion of what he was willing to bet was going to be a very important meeting between Doctor Anderson and Stheno. The stealth suit he was wearing underneath was skin-tight and a little bit itchy, but he ignored it. He placed his earpiece in and clipped his mic on.

He knew the Spidy Gloves were essentially one-use (he would have to spray them with the can Doctor Morrison had given him to make them stick and un-sticky), so he would use the silly string ladder to climb the side of the house. He stuffed more of his gadgets (smoke detector and bombs, camera, Peeper, laser lipstick, and Disabler. He left behind his watch and sunglasses. He knew they were armed and a watch wasn't going to held him) in the belt around the waist of the stealth suit. It really was incredibly designed, a dull gray color that was made of virtually camera-proof material. Unfortunately, his head would still be visible. And that's why he had the Disabler. He had the silly string ladder can with him (he refused to add the 'z' at the end), and tested it out quickly against the grass, confident it would dissolve. Because Doctor Morrison was secretly a child, it was pink goop that sprayed out in an unstable looking pattern. Great.

Since he really had no choice, he stepped back and sprayed the ladder against the side of Blaine's house. It only looked a little more stable on the siding, and Kurt had to be very careful to get the top of the ladder near a window. It was incredibly hard to control above head height. Kurt lifted his finger off the spray nozzle, and the extra gooped down a little. He was just happy when he placed a hand against the sticky material and it stayed put. Hopefully, they had field-tested it enough that it was actually safe to climb.

Having no better option, Kurt placed his other hand higher up, and then stepped onto the ladder. Remarkably, it held, though he had figured out climbing it wasn't going to be easy. He had to move a hand together with its associated foot in order to get anywhere, and it was hard to detach himself from the ladder. Eventually, he reached the top of the ladder (which was definitely stronger than it looked), and his next task was the window. Blaine's house was state-of-the-art, but there wasn't much that could be done with windows. Kurt checked three times for a motion detector before slipping in his driver's license (thankfully, his wallet was in his belt) and unlocking the window with a satisfying click. He dropped the card back into his belt and climbed onto the window sill, balancing carefully as he tried to pull himself off the silly string ladder. The bottom was already dissolving, so he felt safe leaving it there.

Balanced on the ledge, he looked around the room for a camera to stick the Disabler to. It wasn't going to be an easy task without being detected. "You there, Agent Hummel?" Agent Lopez's voice came through his earpiece and almost scared him right off the window sill.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Kurt demanded in a whisper. He knew there was a camera around the next corner.

"Not at the moment," Agent Lopez reassured him in a dry tone. "You're almost out of range of your earpiece," that definitely wasn't a bad thing, but Kurt had to wonder where the van was parked that they couldn't fix that, "so I just wanted to remind you that the Smoke Detectors Doctor Morrison gave you will also help you figure out where the cameras are pointed." Okay, so that was actually helpful. "There's a camera in your microphone, so we'll be watching, even though we can't help you. Good luck, and remember to get samples." Kurt took out the earpiece and stuffed it in his belt, since it was going to do him no further good.

"Awesome," he whispered to himself as he eased off the ledge and landed gently on the floor. He had suffered through enough training that his stealth-slipper-covered feet didn't make the slightest sound on the old wooden flooring.

Portions of the hallways in Blaine's house were divided by partitions, just foot-wide potions of walls that stuck out and made convenient corners to hide in. They also provided the perfect niche for security cameras, and as Kurt slid into one of those corners, he knew there was a security camera opposite him.

He didn't know exactly how to work the Smoke Detector Doctor Morrison had given him, and throwing it to the ground next to the barrier didn't work. Kicking it in frustration, however, did the trick, and with a beep, the sleek silver ball unfolded into perfect eighths, releasing eight streams of white gas into the air. Kurt held his arm over his nose and mouth until the smoke cleared for two reasons. The first: he didn't exactly trust the mad doctor who had given him the equipment. The second: it didn't exactly smell good.

When the white smoke cleared, a very visible band of green light was emitting from the security camera, spreading out as it lengthened to cover a significant area of the hallway. That, Kurt guessed, was as much as the camera could see. Thankfully, the camera's vision was hindered by the partition, and Kurt was able to sneak underneath the security camera without touching the green area just by staying close to the wall. He stuck the Disabler to the underside of the camera, and the device shuttered. The green area was still there, but Kurt was forced to assume that the camera was no longer submitting feed, even though it could still technically see that area. Still, clinging to the wall was the safest bet.

He only had to go down about one hundred feet of hallway until he found the entrance to the staircase. There wasn't actually a dumbwaiter system, but there were plenty of doors throughout the East wing of the house that looked like dumbwaiters. In reality, they were small passages to hidden stairwells. Blaine should stop telling strangers such important details about his house.

Kurt stuck as close to the wall as possible as he approached the fake-dumbwaiter. When he had reached his destination, he took a quick glance at his mobile command center. Goolsby and Sylvester were still on the first floor, but there was a new dot accompanying them now. Doctor Anderson.

The spy realized he could almost hear their conversation downstairs, since they were obviously approaching the staircase upstairs (it sounded like Doctor Anderson was apologizing for the walk), and Kurt ducked quickly into the tiny passageway. He barely fit as a pretty lithe spy. There was no way Dustin Goolsby could fit through the tunnel he was in. There must be another way, but Blaine didn't know about it, and Kurt didn't want to take any chances.

Kurt crawled through the passageway, which was smooth metal and cold to the touch, but thankfully not smelly or damp. In too many movies, the little passageways leading to secret staircases were smelly and damp.

The passageway ended abruptly, Kurt pushing the slab of metal at the end up (glad it was on hinges) and emerging on a simple steel stairwell, spiraling tightly down into the basement of the Anderson mansion. There were handrails, but Kurt didn't want to leave any fingerprints, and the stairs felt so steep and so awkwardly spaced that Kurt almost felt like he was falling as he descended the two flights. His steps rang out faintly, but thankfully he could no longer hear voices. Maybe they had stopped to talk, or maybe there were two stairwells. The latter seemed much likely, considering what Blaine had told Kurt about the expansive measures of his father's quarters in the basement.

When Kurt reached the bottom landing of the stairs, he didn't stop to take a breather. There was a steel door in front of him, marked by the Eye of Horus and protected by a four-digit lock and what looked like a scanner of some sort. There was also another door, blank, which was probably the entrance from another stairwell... or an entrance to another branch of the basement network. Kurt wondered briefly how many floors there were below Blaine's house and whether or not it was stable.

Kurt's attention, however, was focused up. Blaine had mentioned the air duct system, and air ducts were always important in scientific laboratories. If the network didn't extend down into the basement... Kurt was going to get caught. The idea made his throat close up, but he couldn't turn back now.

The grate was small, finely divided, high up, and molded into the wall, but it was there, and with the laser and a little bit of know-how, Kurt popped it up, removing the bottom portion of the grate and its sides from the wall. He put the laser (which still looked ridiculous to him) back in his belt and took out the Spidy Gloves. He left the Spidy Feet tucked away for the moment.

This idea would require a lot of arm strength, which admittedly wasn't really his forte. But Kurt had to try. He put on and sprayed the Spidy Gloves, carefully dropping the spray back into his belt without getting stuck to it. He then stuck his hands to the wall, briefly clenching his fists and hoping this was possible without either losing the gloves or pulling his arms out of their sockets. Kurt slapped his hands as far above his head as they would go, and pulled up, trying not to grunt at the burn in his arms and shoulders. He couldn't afford to hang there for a minute as he got his breath back, so he pulled off one hand as soon as he had pulled himself level with his hands, and slapped it up again. Thankfully, that put him at the level to climb into the grate. With a heave, Kurt pulled himself up, swinging himself headfirst into the grate, almost popping his arms out in a brand new way. He had to get most of his torso into the grate before there was enough weight resting on the grate that he wouldn't fall back to earth as soon as he detached his hands. His shoulders would definitely hurt in the morning.

Nevertheless, he pulled his arms off the wall with some effort and wiggled ungracefully into the grate, glad that the agents couldn't see exactly how the process had gone. There was probably a smarter way to do it, but his way worked. Kurt barely remembered to close the grate behind him, making it blend as best he could into the wall, before forging ahead in the tiny duct. Thankfully, there were slots that looked underneath him, and he could see a good portion of the laboratory.

Blaine hadn't been kidding. Most of the floor of the room he could see was covered in giant tanks of water, with seemingly nothing inside him. Kurt knew better; he knew that the tiny organisms in those tanks could change the future of communications if utilized. The question was what influence they would have, and that depended on the hands they ended up in.

Kurt would have to get a sample of them eventually, but first he should wait for Goolsby, Sylvester, and Dr. Anderson to get don to the basement. Hopefully, they would be saying something he wanted to hear, and the agency could record their conversation with his microphone. If that wasn't out of range. Dr. Anderson had probably protected his laboratory pretty well.

That reminded him. While he was waiting for the Stheno executives and the good doctor (Kurt was working hard not to think of him as Blaine's father), he could get in position. Kurt took off the Spidy Gloves (hoping that would be their last use) and started setting up the scope cam, another piece of equipment he wasn't entirely sure how to use. They looked like headphones, but that was probably the point. He could barely crouch in the air duct, but he maneuvered so that he was over one of the tanks of water and let one of the headphones slip through one of the slots, and it was the crackle of feedback that made him jump and slam his head against the inside of the duct that confirmed the little things were a microphone and a camera. No need to worry about recording it his way. Kurt pulled it up a little and slid a finger through the slot on the other side, grabbing it and wrapping it. Motion detectors weren't his only problem; human eyes caught movement themselves, and if he got caught because of one of the stupid gadgets he was going to kill Dr. Morrison.

Once the headph-scope cam was wrapped and steady, Kurt couldn't do anything but wait, checking his mobile command center to see how long he would be crouched there. Thankfully, they seemed to be headed down into the basement. Not too long then.

Laboratory under the Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 16:20:35
"Why aren't they useful now, you sniveling imbecile?" Sue Sylvester's rough voice hissed out as the door Kurt had seen from the outside marked with the Eye of Horus opened.

"It's an incredibly delicate procedure," a deep voice was saying from behind Sue Sylvester, and Doctor Anderson closed the door behind them. Goolsby wasn't in the laboratory, probably guarding outside, so it was just SYlvester and Dr. Anderson. "They have to be streamlined in certain wave patterns and kept away from all other substances, including the nitrogen, argon, carbon dioxide, and other gases found in the Earth's atmosphere."

"I was promised progress by today, and yet all I see are empty tanks."

"Surely you are educated enough to know that these tanks are not empty!" Dr. Anderson objected with a little bit of scientific pride. "They are full of millions of antineutrinos, any ten of which could give us the power to read all of China's communications."

"Which doesn't explain why I can't use them." Sylvester seemed very to-the-point. Under any other circumstances, Kurt would have liked her. As it was, he had a begrudging respect for her.

"Turning the power of the antineutrinos into a controllable force that will penetrate power lines and read electronic signals is simply trial and error. I cannot guarantee you a date when they will be usable for your companies project. I could have a breakthrough tomorrow or never in my lifetime."

"I am not paying for these tanks to outlive you, though a fruit fly will outlive you if you don't give me something I can use soon," Sylvester said coldly.

"Perhaps a small demonstration of the powers I have harnessed in the first few months with these incredible particles will ease your mind," Dr. Anderson attempted to appease her, walking over to one of the tanks just out of Kurt's sight. There was a hissing sound, and Dr. Anderson returned to Kurt's line of sight with a closed beaker of water. How he had transferred the antineutrinos without exposing them to air, Kurt had no idea, but he would hopefully do the same thing shortly. "Do you have a cell phone?"

"Are you going to destroy it?"

"No." Sylvester handed over an iPhone, and Dr. Anderson placed it with the beaker in a comically oversized, horizontal test tube. "Removing the air," he said, turning a dial, and there was a vacuum sound. Within seconds, the beaker shattered, and the water rushed around the phone. "A visual display," he offered, pointing up towards the wall. On a large monitor, there was the corner of Sylvester's phone, and the picture zoomed in further to reveal globs of oddly gray matter slipping into the phone.

"The fact that they can penetrate my phone does not make them impressive," Sylvester said flatly, but Dr. Anderson just smiled a little dreamily.

"Wait," he replied. After about two minutes of antineutrinos slipping into the phone, Dr. Anderson hit a button, and a drain washed the water and its contents away. Kurt had no idea what actually happened when antineutrinos were introduced to air, but it couldn't be too bad, as the water drained into an open cup on the floor. "Now, call your phone."

Sylvester looked at him like he was stupid. Kurt couldn't blame her.

"Perhaps I should," Dr. Anderson said after a moment, and did so with his own cell phone. As soon as it started ringing, the monitor started ringing as well, oddly enough. "Answer," he said to his phone, and the phone picked up. "Hello, I'm Doctor Anderson, and I would like to specify what the power of the antineutrinos have just done."

"I get it, Frankenstein," Sylvester said. "You bugged my phone. I can do that with a chip."

"Yes, but the antineutrinos are undetectable, are never out of range, and can also control the phone. With the antineutrinos within the iPhone, I can send texts and emails remotely."

"Impressive," Sylvester began, and Dr. Anderson looked relieved, "but very rarely is a phone I'm trying to bug in an airless environment."

"I think I have the solution to that, but it will require a little more R&D."

"I'm done with R, and D has been underway for months. I want S."

"Success?" Dr. Anderson asked.

"Sylvester. As in the name on every front page of every newspaper in the world once you finish this project. Have it done in two weeks."

"B-but that's impossible!" Dr. Anderson argued as Sylvester went to leave. "It's taken me months to bug a phone in an airless environment. To not only create a modified antineutrino that would survive in air, but also harness its power to read and modify remote electronic signals will take years."

"You have two weeks, Dr. Anderson. I don't want to say that, or visit you, again. Come." Sylvester stalked out of the laboratory, and Dr. Anderson, at a loss, followed her.

Laboratory under the Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 16:37:45
Kurt pulled up the scope cam now that the entrepreneur and doctor were gone. He wasn't sure how helpful the conversation he had overheard would be to the CIA's overall plan of stopping the attempt (it looked like it was stopping itself), but he knew Dr. Anderson was in big trouble if he hadn't done several decades worth of research in the next two weeks.

Kurt's next task was a sample of the antineutrinos, which would be easy now that Dr. Anderson and Sue Sylvester were gone. He used the laser lipstick to open the grates, carving the last part with the laser in his mouth as he stuck his fingers through the grate. It was the only way he could think to avoid the grate falling to the floor with a loud crash, and he didn't lose any fingers in the process.

He was almost directly above a water tank, but he wasn't close enough to use the Water Peeper accurately from his perch. Instead, he pulled the Spidy Feet from his belt and attached them, lowering himself from the hole the grate had made and swinging his feet up high enough with the help of cheerleading abs to get his feet firmly stuck to the ceiling. Letting go was possibly the hardest thing he had to do, but he did so, and he didn't immediately fall from the ceiling. Instead, he swung there gently, aware he had little time before lightheadedness overtook him. He walked over to the water tank with care, having to pull his feet away from the ceiling hard to move and still afraid of falling. When he reached the nearest water tank, he placed the Water Peeper on its side, and there was a faint whirring sound as the tiny machine started to work.

Success.

"Hello, my little friend."

It was purely instinctual, the reflex to reach into his belt, grab one of the smoke bombs, and throw it down. Kurt curled up towards the ceiling as the black smoke exploded from his gadget and made it impossible to see inches in front of his own face, so he began trying to walk away, ignoring the burning in his abs from holding himself close to the ceiling with little help from his Spidy-Glove-less hands, but he couldn't escape fast enough. A hand fisted itself in the cloth covering his back, tearing the fabric slightly, and he was jerked down. His Spidy Feet were unhinged from the ceiling with a pop.

"Now, now. We can't have you getting feisty." Those were the last words Kurt heard before pain exploded in the side of his head and everything went black.

Anderson Residence, 90 West College Avenue, Westerville, OH 19:00:12
The right side of Kurt's head was throbbing as he woke up, he was tied to a chair around his neck, his hands and arms, his waist, and his calves and feet, and he was gagged with something not particularly appealing to have in one's mouth. He was also being shaken gently. "Kurt?" Blaine. Oh fuck.

"I'm okay," he tried to say through the gag, but it came out as muffled mumbling.

"You know, if you think this is sexy, it really isn't all that..." Kurt glared at his friend, and Blaine trailed off, deciding that it was better for his self-preservation not to finish that sentence, even though Kurt was bound and gagged. "Of course, you couldn't have actually managed this by yourself, so..."

Blaine trailed off, again, but KUrt was laughing this time. He was sweet, and goofy, and a little bit naive, and Kurt couldn't help but enjoy his sense of humor. "Don't laugh!" Blaine suddenly objected. "You'll suffocate!"

"I'm fine," Kurt tried to say again through the gag, opening his mouth wider to try to annunciate and decidedly not thinking about what he might be gagged with. Blaine want around his back and untied the gag. "Ow," Kurt said, stretching out his jaw. "Thanks."

"No problem," Blaine said, his voice almost trance-like.

"Where are we?" Kurt asked, because they were in a nondescript, empty room, coated in a thin layer of dust. He had no idea how Blaine had found him.

"This is the East wing equivalent of the library," Blaine said very calmly as he untied the rope around Kurt's neck.

"How did you find me?"

"I saw a strange man in dark clothes leaving this side of the house through the back door. I decided to check on everything, even though there's really nothing in this wing to steal, and imagine my surprise..." Blaine trailed off again. He still seemed unnaturally calm.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked as the tenor went to work on the knots on his biceps. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," Blaine said, still completely serene. "I find boys I like gagged and bound in abandoned wings of my house every day."

"Blaine-"

"What is going on here, Kurt?" Blaine demanded. "You flit into my life, don't tell me anything about yourself, seem socially inept, yet you know everything about me, you're friends with Wes even though he appears to hate you, and now I find you like this? What the hell is going on?" Blaine had a right to ask all of these questions, but Kurt didn't have any answers for him.

"What do you want me to say, Blaine?"

"I want you to tell me the truth," Blaine demanded. "The whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God. Understand me?"

"You might as well," came Santana's voice through that damn earpiece, and then Kurt really started taking stock (something a good, experienced agent would have done first thing, instead of being distracted by a boy). His stealth suit was gone, replaced by his tuxedo slacks and white shirt. Obviously Goolsby had found his tuxedo, gone to investigate in the lab, and found him being the least subtle agent in the world. Hopefully Goolsby thought he was still FBI. Still, that meant someone had taken the time to change him. What time was it? All of his gadgets were gone, except for his mobile command... screw it, it's a cell phone, still covered by the Bouncer, the scope cam (which they had hopefully really thought was headphones), and the damn earpiece. "You've already blown your cover wide open, you can tell him everything." Great. Kind of.

"What time is it?" Kurt asked before he could forget.

Blaine frowned, but answered. "Right after seven." He had been unconscious for over two hours.

"My name really is Kurt Hummel," Kurt started, "but it has a new prefix. Agent Kurt Hummel, Central Intelligence Agency."

"I thought the Central Intelligence Agency couldn't intervene in domestic matters," Blaine said, returning to his calm state as he undid the knots around Kurt's waist. Kurt flexed and twisted his wrists, trying to get feeling back into his hands.

"There are exceptions when it's a matter of international policy," Kurt replied.

"So, you're a spy, who came to Dalton to what? Watch me?"

"I don't think you can tell him that."

"Shut up," Kurt hissed to Agent Lopez.

"What?" Blaine demanded.

"Not you," Kurt corrected him. "I have another agent in my ear," he said, pointing. Blaine didn't even chuckle. "You're mad at me."

"Why are you here, Kurt? Why me?"

"It has to do with your father," Kurt admitted. "I can't tell you the exact specifications as a matter of international security, but your father is inadvertently doing dangerous things for dangerous people, and I'm doing reconnaissance."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Your father is very secluded. The easiest way to gain access to him and his lab is through you."

"So, you were supposed to cozy up to me, get invited to this party, and spy on my father?"

"Essentially."

"And that's why you're in all my classes?"

"Yes."

"Why you?" Of course, Blaine would be smart enough to ask that question. He couldn't make it easy.

"Because the agency knows that you're gay, and they figured you would be more willing to connect to someone who shares that bonding trait."

"So, what? The government can just come in and set me up with the perfect person, and then rip you out from under me in the name of protecting international security?"

"Um... yes," Kurt answered, because saying, 'duh,' wouldn't be a good idea. Blaine was angry enough.

"The government are dicks," Blaine muttered under his breath as he finished the last knots on Kurt's ankles and stood up. "I can't believe you would do this to me."

"I didn't have a choice," Kurt said, and he could see in Blaine's eyes how heartbroken he was. "I'm an agent, and you were my assignment."

"I can't believe it was all fake," Blaine said as he turned around and walked away.

"No, Blaine," Kurt tried to object, tried to get up and follow him. However, he had been bound for two hours, and his legs gave out from under him. He crashed to the floor, disturbing years of dust bunnies, and he could hear Blaine's footsteps as the tenor walked away.

A/N: I am sorry about the incredibly long wait in a story that was supposed to be weekly, but I thought I would write as I posted, and I didn't, which meant that chapter 5 was the last chapter I had written out fully. Writing this chapter was difficult because I'm not actually an action writer (this was a prompt fic), but I've planned out the rest and it should go smoothly. Again, I apologize.

Reviews are Love.