39*A/N I do not own Mission Impossible, or any of the characters. I only own my own character. Story contains spoilers for Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation.
IMF headquarters
"Benji." Brandt called as he tried to locate the members of his undercover team. "Benji, do you copy? Benji."
"Oh. Shit." Benji muttered at last in reply, and Brandt asked worriedly: "Where is Ethan?"
"Uh." Benji replied hesitantly.
Minsk
"I can't talk right now." Benji said evasively as he lifted the binoculars to his eyes, staying low as he hid amongst the grassy fields, covered in a grass blanket to try and blend in with his surroundings as he covertly watched their target being loaded onto the huge cargo jet.
"The package is on the plane." Brandt pointed out, and Benji muttered distractedly: "Yeah, I know. We're currently formulating a plan B… although technically, it's a plan C."
IMF headquarters
"This isn't going very well." Brandt sighed as he leaned heavily against a table, and Benji retorted over the comms: "I am aware of that, Brandt. You're not helping."
"Where's Ethan?" Brandt asked, cutting to the chase, before he groaned as Benji replied shortly: "I don't know. We're on radio silence."
"That plane cannot takeoff, with the package on it." Brandt ordered, saying each word distinctly as he tried to keep his temper in check. "You understand?"
"We're working on it." Luther's voice replied, and Brandt whipped his head around to stare at the comm in disbelief.
"Luther?" He asked incredulously. "What the hell are you doing there? You are supposed to be on an assignment in Malaysia."
Malaysia
"I am in Malaysia." Luther retorted as he climbed the tower. "I've been here 2 days. Benji needed my help."
IMF headquarters
"I didn't need help." Benji replied defensively as Brandt covered his face with his hand, shaking his head with a sigh. "I just...I needed assistance, it's a different thing."
"The package is still on that plane." He sighed, lifting his head out of his hand to stare at the monitors, which showed the jet waiting on the runway as the package was being loaded.
"We understand the package is on the plane." Benji snapped. "We're trying to cripple it remotely."
"You can do that?" Brandt asked quickly, his spirits rising hopefully before they crashed again as Luther replied: "We can if the pilot left the satellite uplink switched on."
"Which he has." Benji added smugly, but Brandt had a very bad feeling about the plan as he asked slowly: "And how do you access the uplink?"
"It involves hacking a Russian satellite." Luther replied shortly, and Brandt winced, feeling a migraine coming as he groaned: "I can't authorize that."
"Which is why I didn't ask permission." Luther snapped, and Brandt hissed, trying not to bite his team's heads off: "We are under investigation for misconduct."
"The package is on-board." Luther retorted. "What do you want me to do?"
"Uh… Luther." Benji suddenly called nervously, and Brandt turned to look back at the monitors at Benji's tone.
His mouth dropped open as he saw the heat signatures appearing on the jet's wings, and he called sharply: "I'm reading a heat bloom, Benji. The engines are starting."
Minsk
"Yeah." Benji muttered as he stared anxiously at the jet through his binoculars. "I'm aware of that. But I can't do anything until I'm connected to the satellite."
"Benji, you are connected." Luther reported, and Benji tossed his binoculars aside, snatching up his tablet as he muttered: "Okay, Great."
"The package is still on that plane." Brandt called tightly, clearly agitated, and Benji tried to ignore him as he tapped at his tablet, trying to find a way to shut the plane down.
"Shut down the fuel pump." Luther suggested, and Benji tried, typing away.
"Uh." He muttered before groaning as his screen flashed with a red message. "Mechanicals are locked down."
IMF headquarters
"What about the electrical system?" Brandt demanded as he started pacing anxiously before the monitors that lined the office wall.
"Oh, that might work." Benji said hopefully, before he sighed: "No. No."
Malaysia
"Hydraulics." Luther suggested urgently, watching Benji's attempts on his own tablet as the techie tried, muttering: "Okay, standby."
Luther grit his teeth as he saw the same red message on his screen while Benji groaned: "No, they're encrypted."
Minsk
Benji stared in worry at the plane as it began to move across the runway, starting to take position for takeoff.
"Benji," Brandt called urgently, "the plane."
"Yes! The package is on the plane!" Benji shouted, his patience snapping as the pressure got to him. "We get it!"
"Can you open the door?" Ethan asked suddenly, joining their comm line.
"Ethan?" Brandt called sharply. "Where are you?"
"I'm by the plane." Ethan replied shortly. "Benji, can you open the door?"
"Uh. Can I open the door?" Benji muttered as he typed away and he perked up slightly when he saw that he didn't get an instant error. "Uh. Maybe."
"Open the door when I tell you." Ethan yelled at him, his voice sounding a little faint and breathless, as though he was running in a windy area. Which was odd, because there was no wind blowing near them at the covert Minsk airport.
Benji typed away, trying to find a way to open the doors, when Ethan called, his voice a little strained: "I'm on the plane. Open the door."
"How did you get in the plane?" Benji asked in surprise, frowning in confusion, when Ethan replied loudly over the sharp wind: "Not in the plane, I'm on the plane!"
Benji glanced up at the jet, confused, and his eyes widened, his mouth falling open as he saw what Ethan meant. He gaped, standing in disbelief as he saw Ethan hanging onto the side of the plane, gripping the door to keep from falling off as the plane swung around and headed down the runway.
"Open the door!" Ethan yelled, but he couldn't move as he stared, completely stunned.
"Benji." Ethan snarled above the wind coming from the plane's turbines. "Open the door!"
"Yeah-yeah-yeah..." Benji stuttered as he quickly went back to his tablet, punching at the buttons as he tried to do as Ethan said. "Okay, okay."
IMF headquarters
"Benji," Brandt called, watching in horror as the plane picked up speed, "open that door right now!"
Minsk
"Yeah, I am trying." Benji cried, while Ethan tightened his grip on the plane as he felt it slowly start to lift off the ground. He waited desperately, but it was too late as the plane took off.
Ethan hung on for all he was worth as the plane lifted into the air, causing his feet to loose their position on the side of the jet and fly backwards towards gravity while the plane took off. His grip on the door was the only thing keeping him from falling off and to a gruesome death, and Ethan briefly wondered what it was about him and getting into high situations.
"Come on, Benji." Luther muttered anxiously, while Brandt abandoned all pretense of calm as he shouted: "Benji, open that door!"
"Come on. Come on." Benji muttered as he tried to maneuver his way through the Russian text on his tablet to find the right button to open the door. He really wished their old civilian was with them at the moment- she would've been able to either read the words or do the whole thing for him. "Come on. Come on."
He finally found it and he crowed triumphantly as he punched the button: "Yes, got it."
Ethan heard the metal clanging and he glanced back to see the ramp being lowered at the back of the plane.
"That's the wrong door!" Ethan shouted in exasperation, starting to feel the burning in his arms as he tried to hold on against the air pressure and the wind whipping him around.
Malaysia
"Benji, not that door." Luther snapped urgently as he saw the ramp opening on his screen. "The other door."
Minsk
"The other door." Benji muttered as he tried to get to the right one. "Right. Yes, the other door. Okay, yes, yes. Sorry, sorry. My bad, my bad."
He finally found it, and he called as he pressed the button. "Alright. Look, I'm gonna open the para-door. How's that?"
He waited anxiously, all of them worried as they didn't hear a reply.
Meanwhile, Ethan went flying through the open door, crashing into one and then the other side of the jet as he bounced around before landing with a thud on the edge of the open ramp. He grabbed the edge, holding on quickly before he could get sucked out of the plane, and he sighed in relief as he landed safely.
He slowly sat up, staring at their target as the huge cargo of nerve gas started sliding back out of the jet, heading for the lowered ramp. Ethan moved quickly, grabbing two parachutes and moving around the cargo to set it up. He could barely hear anything over the wind whistling in his ears as he strapped the parachutes onto the top of the crate, moving behind the cargo to finish strapping it in.
He then moved to the front, and almost paused as he saw the Russian soldier standing there with his back to Ethan as he tried to press the button to close the ramp. Ethan moved quickly, strapping himself onto the front of the cargo, before he looked up again. He paused again as he met eyes with the Russian, who stared blankly in shock at the other man who – in the Russian's eyes – had come out of nowhere.
Ethan slowly reached over to grab the parachute release cord, and he pulled it quickly as the Russian continued to gape at him. The Russian's eyes went wide as Ethan nodded in farewell, before he cried as he finally realized what was happening: "Hey. Hey."
It was too late, and the soldier could only watch helplessly as Ethan was pulled with the cargo out of the plane, the parachute catching the air and dragging the agent out before taking him and the nerve gas safely towards the ground.
London
'Now this,' Kat thought with a content sigh, 'is a vacation.'
She was wandering down the London streets, returning from a tour of Buckingham Palace. It had been four days since she'd arrived for a week-long vacation, and despite the almost constant rain she hadn't been this happy in over a year. Sure, work was fine and she was happy with her job as a computer technician at one of the largest security firms in New York, but things definitely got dull and repetitive. Although, if she had to be honest with herself, everything seemed duller since she'd said farewell to her IMF friends.
'Let's not go there.' Kat scolded herself mentally, shifting her thoughts away from their current dangerous track. 'You know what happens when you think of them… of him.'
Kat sighed. She had honestly thought, after they'd parted ways, that she would be able to return to normal, civilian life and move on. It took her two months to realize that it wasn't as easy as she had initially thought it would be, and it took her six months to realize that she would never be able to be 'normal' again. For one, every time someone reached into their pockets, she tensed, automatically getting defensive and preparing for the stranger to pull a gun.
Or every time she saw an 'accident' on the news, she couldn't help but wonder how close she and everyone else in the world might have been to dying and they were just unaware of the fact because of Ethan and his team. Speaking of which, then there was the certain 'analyst' on Ethan's team…
It took the same six months for Kat to realize she couldn't move on from Will. At first, she didn't notice- she had never really been the type to flirt or fancy anyone. But it had gotten worse: she just simply wasn't interested. And as Bella had pointed out, she only ever showed the slightest interest if the man was blond with blue eyes.
Bella had meant it in a teasing way, joking that Kat was being prejudiced, but the realization had hit Kat hard. She hadn't even realized, but she only ever glanced twice at a man if he resembled Will. And she couldn't be interested, because they were never Will. It had taken Bella's teasing and four failed 'dates' (aka Bella's attempts to help, which failed when she couldn't even be bothered to remember her dates' names after the first day) for her to realize the pattern, and at that point she simply gave up.
'I'll be ready when I'm ready.' She'd encouraged herself. Of course, that had already been a good half-year ago. But, as she told herself, she didn't really mind the single life anyway.
Kat shook herself, focusing back on the present with a resolute shake of her head. She'd taken the vacation to have a change of scenery and just enjoy herself so that was what she was going to do. She looked up to see someone walking down the street, coming towards her as she made her way back to her hotel.
He was tall, blond and she thought he had blue eyes behind his black-rimmed spectacles, though he was still far enough that she couldn't be sure. There was absolutely no resemblance between this pale, clearly British man and Will, so she would've immediately moved on- but what had caught her gaze for a fraction longer than it should have was the way the man's hand was casually sitting in the pocket of his long dark coat.
Kat had tensed reflexively before she sighed and forced herself to relax.
'Get a grip.' She sighed to herself. 'He's probably just cold.'
She had got close enough to catch the stranger's face fully as she made to pass him, when he pulled his hand out of his pocket, pointed his gun, and shot her. Kat gasped, staring blankly at the small dart sticking in her side before her legs gave out and she felt her vision start to darken.
Just before she fell unconscious, she felt hands grabbing her, picking her up before she hit the ground and she vaguely wondered what was going to happen to her and if she should try to struggle. But before she could even finish the thought, her eyes had closed and darkness claimed her.
Another part of London
Ethan strolled casually along the London streets, slipping passed the crowds and moving further into the shadows of the late night. He headed down towards an old vinyl shop, stepping inside just as another customer left.
"We're about to close." The shop attendant called to him as she moved from where she'd been preparing to ask the last blond-haired customer to leave his booth.
"I won't be long." Ethan replied lightly as he browsed a few of the displayed records, and she asked as she walked closer: "You looking for anything in particular?"
"Something…" he turned to the attendant, "rare."
He smiled, and she paused, watching him as she raised one delicate brow while he turned back to the displays.
"Let me guess." She commented as she walked slowly towards the cashier desk. "Classical."
"Jazz." Ethan replied, and the blonde asked: "Sax?"
"Coltrain."
"Piano."
"Monk."
"Shadow Wilson on the bass." She said as she stopped, her arms folded as she watched him with a small smirk.
"Shadow Wilson played drums." Ethan replied as he returned the smile.
"Know why," she asked as she moved behind the desk, "they called him Shadow?"
"Because he had a light touch." Ethan answered as he walked to face her across the counter.
The blonde woman smiled, her eyes sparkling as she said lightly: "You're in luck. I've a first pressing."
She held up a vinyl held in a white, unmarked envelope, and Ethan took it. He glanced at her and she looked to the free listening booth pointedly. He smiled at her before moving to go to the booth when she called after him: "It really is you."
Ethan paused, glancing back as she said slowly: "I've heard stories. They can't all be true."
Ethan thought about it before he just smiled at her mysteriously, and then headed into the booth. The woman turned away to give him privacy, going back to finish her work at the desk as Ethan lifted the vinyl player's lid, and placed his hand on the platter.
A laser appeared from the side of the head-shell. The laser identified him, and a green holographic screen appeared on the lid, as it flashed his name: 'HUNT. ETHAN M.' He placed the vinyl on the platter, sitting back in the armchair to watch as the cartridge lowered onto the vinyl and the message began to play.
"Good evening, Mr. Hunt." The automated voice greeted. "The weapons you recovered in Belarus," the screen showed an image of the nerve gas cargo he'd intercepted earlier that day, "were confirmed to be VX nerve gas, capable of devastating a major city."
"The bodies of the air crew," it showed him a map, "were found less than 24 hours after they landed in Damascus."
Ethan watched thoughtfully as the hologram showed pictures of the men in question, while the recording continued: "They were identified as low level Chechen separatist, with neither the access nor the ability to acquire the weapons they were transporting."
Ethan pursed his lips as the recording continued: "This would support your suspicion that a shadow organization is committed to inciting revolution, by enabling acts of terror in nations friendly to Western interests."
The screen showed images of the various incidents he had been tracking as the recording went on: "IMF suspects this to be the same shadow organization you have been tracking for the last year, also known as the Syndicate. IMF… would be right."
Ethan frowned his head cocking a little in confusion as the voice continued: "Normally, you and your team would be tasked with infiltrating and disrupting this terrorist network, but we have taken steps to ensure that this will not happen. Because, we," the image showed his face located in London, "are the Syndicate, Mr. Hunt."
Ethan leant forward in alarm, staring at the screen as the recording continued: "And now we know who you are. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to face your fate."
Ethan watched with a frown, his mind racing, as the screen showed various images of his past missions. "Pursue us, you'll be caught. Resist us, you'll be killed. And you precious Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. Good luck, Mr. Hunt."
The screen switched off to show a countdown as the recording ended: "This message will self destruct in 5 seconds."
Ethan jumped to his feet as gas began to seep out of the vents in his booth and he spun quickly around to try the door, when he froze. He leant against the locked door in horror at the sight that met him.
The pale blond customer who'd been sitting in the other booth was now standing with his feet apart behind the attendant and a gun pointed at her head. She was standing stiffly before the cashier desk, trying not to tremble as her eyes glanced between Ethan and the brunette woman lying at her feet.
Kat was just beginning to stir, her eyes fluttering open and she blinked slowly as her gaze focused on Ethan's horrified face. She frowned as Ethan gasped: "No" before he began pounding on the glass door, trying to break it open as he desperately shouted at Kat to run.
She couldn't hear him though, and it was hard to focus as the drugs wore off slowly and she tried to think through the haze in her mind, when a shot rang out and she jumped.
Kat sat up quickly, whirling around just as the attendant collapsed, dead, beside her. She screamed in absolute terror, realizing what Ethan had been trying to say, but before she could look up at the killer, he'd whacked his gun sharply across her head, knocking her to the ground and back into unconsciousness.
"Kat!" Ethan yelled as he pounded on the door, watching helplessly as the other man slowly turned and walked away, leaving the gun on the cashier table while Ethan was engulfed in the knockout gas, his futile punches on the door becoming weaker and eventually ceasing as he passed out.
