Chapter Text
"Bilinski!"
Stiles flailed out of his half comatose state upon hearing something similar to his name yelled. It was pointless to try to correct Commanding Officer Finstock. Stiles was one of 12 new recruits to this office of the ATF in the last 3 months, and just going from the stat sheets of his fellow rookies, Stiles was the weakest link. Sure, he scored high on all the written exams, but his ranged weapons work and his physical stamina never really pushed too much past what he could do in high school.
Stiles entered the office fully expecting to be sent away or maybe to get fired. Most got called to Finstock's for field assignments, but in the three months Stiles had been on duty he wasn't even given a proper advisor to help train him. None were available. Instead, he spent most of his time on paperwork and researching with larger teams when they needed him.
"Ah, there he is. Quit hanging out by the door Bilinski, and sit down. This is Special Agent Argent with the FBI. She's looking to borrow you for a month or two."
Stiles noticed the pretty brunette even before Finstock pointed her out. He also pegged her for FBI, considering the well fitted but not expertly tailored dark blue pant suit, and the standard issue under her left arm, and the other smaller .25 she had in the small of her back. She was young, about 23, impressive for an FBI agent. Impressive or well connected.
"It's well connected." She said holding her hand out with a smirk.
Stiles ever the gentlemen took the offered hand in a firm shake. "How well connected? Can you get him to say my name right?" He asked conspiratorially.
"No. But you are exactly what I'm looking for on this assignment." She roved her eyes over his body like he was a prize pig to be judged at the county fair. Well maybe not a pig, maybe a slender goat or something.
"Um…" Stiles had people checking him out before. It came with the territory. It was part of the job to get sized up by both peers and outsiders. Especially when Stiles barely tipped the scales at 160. It was all thin muscle on his 6ft frame, so most judged him to be a bit too scrawny to be in law enforcement of any kind. This FBI agent though, the way she looked at Stiles, unnerved him.
"Your skin still falls off right?" Finstock plainly cut in while reviewing a file folder in front of him.
Stiles blanched, not knowing what to say. "Yes, a little more than the rest of human population," Stiles said defensively. He didn't mean for it to be defensive. He didn't even know what this was about. But kids were cruel, and being different in any way meant cruel things were said and done. It had been years since his psoriasis had been brought up. And that was mainly because when he had really bad outbreaks his well layered wardrobe covered it up. He also made excuses to get out of any communal bathing situations or visits to pools.
The nice FBI Disney Princess lady put her hand over Stiles' in reassurance. If she wasn't so deadly and he wasn't so gay. And if he wasn't so socially backward when it came to anything other than making friends. Who was he kidding? He didn't make friends well either.
Finstock continued on not even bothering to notice Stiles' reaction or not caring. "It's an undercover operation. You were selected because of your medical history and your lack of relative identity among any agency. You will be using your real name and your real background up until 6 months ago when you joined the ATF. You will infiltrate and report back what you find to Agent Argent, who will be you handler and your contact on the outside. Do not engage anyone you suspect of anything. You are only to gather information. Gather information. In.for.ma.tion.al Gath.er.ing." Finstock looked up waiting for Stiles to nod his agreement before continuing. "Your cover story to meet will be she's the girlfriend or the ex-girlfriend you are trying to get back together with."
"That cover won't work." Agent Argent said with a knowing smile beamed over at Stiles. "I'll rework it in the profile."
Stiles batted his eyes at her suggestively. "I could pretend. You are attractive."
'Coach' Finstock looked confused at the turn of the conversation and ready to throw them out of his office for having some hidden code he didn't understand. "Whatever." He stood up from behind his desk, readying for an obvious dismissal. "Update the profile and have it on my desk in the morning. I also want regular updates. You're taking away my research guru. I expect him to come back to us unharmed, and with a favor owed to us from you."
Agent Argent held out her hand once again, this time for 'Coach'. "Thank you, Commander Finstock."
He grunted at her nodding towards the door and sitting back down in his seat, he then bellowed for the next person waiting in the hall, "Greenberg!"
"You can call me Allison." The agent lead him away from Finstock's domain and down the hall to a small conference room. "We only have 4 days to get you debriefed and ready for this."
She reached into a soft leather briefcase and handed him a novel sized folder that had 30 or so different color coded tabs sticking out of it in every direction. It would take him days to analyze all of this properly. "Where am I…?" Stiles' mouth stopped working for a second as he noticed the first item in the folder. It was directly on top and clipped to a carefully sleeved DVD. The brochure read: "Point Luna: A Naturalist Collective and Home."
Having psoriasis, Stiles knew what the place was without finishing the reading. One of the best known cures for the disease was sunlight, lots of sunlight directly to the affected areas. Those infected had only a few options in the United States. Get a membership at a tanning salon, get naked in your highly secure and private best friend's back yard to sun bathe, or if you were more adventurous… "a nudist colony."