Chapter Text
Ethan looked at his watch. 0100. It was time. He took a deep breath, nodded at the guard to his right, grabbed the black briefcase at his ankles and headed off to the top floor.
This was his job. Guard secretive rooms, see to the girls, get information, albeit secretly, about the organisation. He’d been at this for seven months now, and despite his disgust at his role, he knew his place, and how to make missions go well. He may be known for getting jobs done quickly, taking reckless chances by putting his life on the line, but he didn’t make a name for himself by being reckless alone.
He was undercover in the world's largest sex trafficking ring. They'd only been on the IMF's radar for little over a year and they threatened everyone. Usually the IMF dealt with tricky political situations, or large gangs and organisations that threatened the world. But this group had been going on for decades. They could kidnap and erase anyone, which made them bad enough for Ethan, but the IMF heard the president of Lichtenstein's daughter had gone missing, and once they found a culprit, they knew they had to do something.
Ethan reached the door to the third floor. He nodded at the guards, who seemed to get more built with every door, and signalled at the briefcase in his hand.
He'd worn a mask everyday for this mission. He couldn't risk them finding out who he really was and why he was really here. They definitely did their research, this place had more security than any government agency he'd ever seen. Even if he hated what they were protecting, or rather hiding, he couldn't deny that it was a well oiled machine.
One turned to the door and input today's code into the keypad, opening the door. He held his breath and walked past them, into the black corridor. He knew it was silly to be so anxious, the guards had never seen anything out of the ordinary about him. But today wasn't any other day. Today was the day he was getting these girls out.
The stairway was black and glossy. When he opened the door at the top of the stairs, the floor turned to a scratchy red carpet, separating six cells, the cells lined with large glass panels.
It was an efficient way to dehumanise the girls kept in them. All they were allowed was a bed and a shower, anything remotely "disgusting" was kept behind a translucent door, that was still monitored to make sure no one escaped or hurt themselves.
Placing the case on the ground, he flipped it open and scanned the tracker removal device. All the girls were tracked. It was the bare basics of running an operation like this. And after all his years of doing this, it was scary how much he knew. It dawned on him why rogue agents were so scary, they knew all the tricks the government used to find criminals and could avoid them with ease. It's why his skin crawled when they were dealing with Lane.
He checked the cameras and pulled another tool from the case. With an eye closed, he aimed at each camera and hit the trigger. It sent a signal to disable the cameras. Their tech was better than a simple hack or picture of the scene.
He walked around the cells and stopped at the last one. It was empty. This cell was meant to have the president's daughter. But she wasn't here. He couldn't leave her behind, but staying was out of the question. What could he do?
Scanning the room again, he sighed. The guards would be getting suspicious now. He never took this long. But Ethan didn't like to leave anyone behind.
He settled to getting the girls out, the ones he could anyway, "I'm Ethan Hunt, I'm an agent of a governmental organisation called the IMF or Impossible Mission Force and I've been undercover for seven months trying to get you out and these people, the ones who have you here, behind bars,"
Some of the girls looked his way. Others just kept their gazes on their feet.
Ethan went to the first cell, typed in the daily code and let the girl out. He carried on around the cells, the empty one still in his mind. Next, he removed their tags and moved them into a group near the door.
One girl, truly a girl, with glossy brown hair and pale skin seemed the most aware of her surroundings. She had a steely look in her eye and gave him a challenged stare, almost curling her lip at him in defiance. He could hazard a guess that she'd been there the longest.
"Where is she?" He asked
She blinked at him. Whether she was resisting him, something he completely understood in her position, or whether she didn't understand, he didn't know.
"I just want to get you all out, and now I’ve removed your trackers, I won't be able to get back here easily," he looked at her. "So, please, where is she?"
"She's, how do you say, occupied," she said in a thick french accent.
Ethan shuddered when he thought about it. He tried not to but considering where he was, it was hard. Every time he finished a shift at this place he had to scrub his skin clean to get the flashing thoughts of what he’d seen that day out of his mind.
He wasn’t good at sitting around and letting things happen, that was why retirement hadn’t suited him. And he knew this wasn’t just sitting around and letting these girls get more and more traumatised, but that’s what his conscience was telling him.
Closing his eyes, he made a decision. He didn’t like it but it had to be made.
“Okay, I’m going to get you guys out of here, and find a way back soon,” he said. “We’re going to have to run, I know a route and have a way to get you guys far away from here,”
He turned to them, placing his hand on the doorknob, “You ready?”
They nodded. He took a deep breath.
Not long now. He’d get back to his empty apartment soon. The one that he never got time to decorate or relax in because he was always on missions.
No, no time to think about that. I’ll get out of here and catch up with everyone, Luther, Brandt and Benji.
A glimmer of hope sparked at the thought of Benji. There’d been a lot of them recently, mainly when thinking of Benji's sarcastic smile and endless faith in him.
"Three. Two. One."
He grabbed the briefcase and kicked the first door open. Running down the stairs, he grabbed the gun from his belt and kicked the one at the bottom of the stairs.
They ran out of the enclosed stairs and immediately alerted the guards. Ethan heard a shout behind him. He directed the girls in front of him and to the next set out stairs.
Thundering footsteps, dulled by carpet, grew behind him. Ethan skipped multiple steps as he pushed the girls forward. Gunshots whipped past his ears. He was glad to be wearing a bulletproof vest.
"Stop!" One called behind him. The words floated to him.
His blood was rushing in his ears. Breath forced out in pants. He was almost glad to feel this rush again.
"Can't do that," he panted out.
They ran around the edge of the second floor, toward the stairs to the first floor. Ethan looked down, over the banister, to the entrance hall and gulped. There were a lot of guards there.
Looking around, he stopped outside a room and kicked the door open. He whistled at the girls to follow.
"I'm going to create a distraction," he ran to the window at the far left side of the room. "There's a bush down there, jump out the window, into the bush and you'll see a van saying something about plumbing, knock on the side of that and my friend from the agency will let you in and take you away."
"What about you?" The brunette said.
"I'll be fine."
He watched them head to the window. The brunette opened it and stared down for a moment. She looked back at the other girls and swung one leg out, then the other, then dropped out with a quiet scream.
After seeing the first girl drop, and waiting for any sign that she'd been caught, he settled himself to making the distraction. He checked himself for weapons. The gun was still on his hip and there were two knives attached to his leg.
He looked out of the window and saw the girl wave at him. Sighing, he signalled to the others it was safe to go.
Once they'd all gone he nodded to himself. It was time.
He ran out the door and toward the stairs. The guards noticed him and were on his tail before he touched the first step.
A shot went past him. He ducked but continued to run two steps at a time. More guards charged at him. He’d have to play this right.
Once he got down the stairs, he swooped the gun from its holster and shot the three biggest guys. Non fatal shots but enough to incapacitate them.
Quicker guards reached him. He smacked the guns from their hands and kicked them across the floor.
He went to punch one but he avoided him. Another lunged in from the side. He dodged just in time.
He could feel the flood of adrenaline hitting him and making his actions sloppy. He could feel his heart in his chest pounding, beating out and making him feel sick.
As more guards joined the fight, he slid under their legs. He kicked one. Grabbed his knife and slashed another's leg.
One of the guards, he'd lost track at this point, grabbed his hair and yanked him upright again. Ethan punched him in the throat, kicked him in the groin and managed to wrestle out of the five man huddle he found himself in.
The entrance was just one set of doors away. He was so close. If he just ran a bit faster he could make it to the van uninjured.
He pushed himself further despite his lungs aching and begging to stop. His hands shook and all sound stopped as he ran, laser focused on the doors.
A hand latched onto his shoulder and pulled him around. The man was tall, bald with a scowl on his face. He picked Ethan up. He tried to wriggle out but couldn't.
He kicked the man in the ribs and dropped to the floor when he hunched over. Just as he went to escape again, the man grabbed him again. He brandished a large serrated knife. The hand on his wrist twisted and grew tighter as the knife slashed across his stomach.
Adrenaline blocked the pain but he saw the blood sink through the crisp white shirt. This mission suddenly got more dangerous. If he didn't need to escape before, he had to now.
Ethan slapped the knife out of the man's hand and stabbed the man in the thigh. He turned and ran faster than before.
The doors were open, so were the front doors. Cold air hit him. Night was thick and black. Stars twinkled beyond the tall buildings.
Luther swerved the van onto the sidewalk as soon as he jumped down the steps. A few more guards were running around the grounds, he saw the white light beams of flashlights.
Just a few more metres. Less than a hundred metres. He could run that in a few seconds.
But the crunch and squelch of grass and leaves behind him grew closer.
"Hey you!" A stern voice shouted behind him.
Ethan had to fight not to stop but he heard more guards. He reached the sidewalk and looked ahead. Luther had opened the passenger door for him. He looked left and right, he could run either way. He should continue the diversion, give Luther time to get the girls to safety.
Just as he went to turn right, a bullet slashed his leg. He buckled and stumbled to the floor. Pain throbbed through him. Pulsing up his leg as his trouser leg seeped with blood. A headache he didn't know he had grew stronger as he looked down the street.
He gestured toward Luther, shouting, "Go!"
He got up again and carried on running. He didn't know where to go. The hospital was out of the question. Perhaps the safehouse, if they weren't there already.
With his destination in mind, he felt a flame flicker to life again. He pulled himself up, tensed his arms at his sides and pushed onward despite the pain in his leg.
He turned left and right, straight and in circles, trying to keep his sense of direction as he gradually lost the guards chasing him. Some were still on him. He'd see their shadows in their beaming flashlights in some of the dark alleys.
But he wasn't far.
He stopped at a junction, watched the traffic and felt his lungs burn. No one was around him now, he realised after looking around.
His safehouse was three blocks away. Traffic was slow. The beams of their headlights glared against the small puddles on the road. Reds and greens of traffic lights shone on glass as he limped his way.
He stopped after crossing and felt himself thrown back to reality again. A thick smell filled the air. A siren flew past him.
Hobbling faster up the sidewalk, he found the source of the burning. It was the apartment block where his safehouse was. Groups of families and roommates stood under the faint spray of the hoses attached to the fire trucks.
How did they get to it so fast? This safehouse was the newest, made just for this mission so there were no traces to the IMF. Had they been tracking him this whole time?
He backtracked until he was round the corner and slumped against the wall. Where would he go now?
The adrenaline clouded his thinking as he tried to regulate his breathing. The IMF headquarters were out of the question. So was his real apartment. He never went back there unless confirmed to be off mission. He needed somewhere safe, with someone he could trust.
A spark lit in his kind and he had an idea. He knew just where to go.