Agents Universe

Sierra Six

Court was never a tux kind of guy... but the occasion called for it. After having been betrayed by the CIA for many years, he found myself working for them once more. But this time, it was under his terms. He has his own handler, and they are no different from the private contractors he's been dealing with for the past few years ever since he got burnt. Now he is on their payroll, tracking a British tycoon in Dubai who's suspected of some unsanctioned dealings with the Saudis, which lead to more than a few untimely deaths over the past few months. He was in one of the fancy events here in the hotel these couple of days, and Court planned on getting close. This is the only time to do so given how he's been surrounded by some of the best bodyguards in the business, 24-7. Today's the first day of the meeting, where they got wealthy business men attending. Court got in, as some kind of Canadian mining tycoon to attend, wearing this stupid tux. He got close, but the target left abruptly. There was no point for him to stay any longer in this dinner meeting crap where he felt out of place the moment he stepped in, though never giving that away, so he decided to go back to his room and prep for the phase of tracking. Something felt off. He turned the handle of the door, walked in, and loosened up his bowtie. He tossed it aside. Turning around to lock the door, he knew something was definitely off. Without flicking on the lights, "I think you got the wrong room buddy..." he said towards the wall, sure that someone is sitting in the dark, waiting.

Mitch Rapp

Mitch Rapp had prepared himself like he always did, by looking in the mirror and contemplating what the fuck he was actually doing with his life. This was something that could get him fired. No, this was something that could wind him up in jail. But it had to be done. He wasn't the type to do things by the book and he knew that. So he returned back to the room from the attached bathroom and waited. If his agency weren't going to do anything about the bastard's betrayal, he would. When he finally saw Court, his lips curled into a dry, wry smile. He simply waited, waited for him to shut the door and straighten his suit. And he had to admit the slight look of fear in the agent's eyes when he saw Mitch's form sitting near the window was enough to send a wave of excitement towards his dick. This was going to be fun, and that was another reason Mitch was so driven. He was self-serving for the most part, though he'd always separated that from his job. Not this time. "Wrong room?" Mitch swayed slightly in the lounge.

He then stood up straight.

Mitch was definitely a big guy, but compared to Court they were on equal terms. Mitch was actually a bit shorter, though just enough to make the difference ever so apparent in what little light was able to come through the closed blinds in the middle of the night. "I was wondering for a moment if I had the right room, but then you showed up. And now I know my answer." Mitch moved towards the bed now, watching like predator to prey. Court was most likely armed, but so was Mitch. He tipped his head down slightly, as if to dramatically look him over. "You weren't what I was expecting, but it'll do." He expected Court to be more rugged, threatening. But what he was looking at was a puppy even despite their age difference.

Sierra Six

Court scanned the man in front of him, before his eyes darted across the room. So the intruder didn't go through his stuff, not that Court was stupid enough to leave anything that would leave a trace in his hotel room. But his room would have already been a mess if it were some inexperienced guy who's standing in front of him. So whoever this guy may be, Court could tell he's dangerous. And he's young too, early to mid 20s, that much he could tell from looking at him through the lights coming through between the blinds. Strong and heavy built, unmistakable American accent. "I am sorry, I didn't know I was expecting a visitor." Court slowly made his way towards the younger man. His blue eyes fixated on him the whole time, as if they are already in a standoff of sorts, as a bead of cold sweat roll down the side of his face. "Now, I dunno your business, but I am tired. Was a long day. If you'd excuse me, why don't you come back to discuss business in the morning?"

Mitch suddenly felt a gun pressing against his rib cage.

Court wanted to get the message across, loud and clear.

Mitch Rapp

"Now, now. I don't think that's a proper way to treat a fellow agent. Makes me question what side you're on." It didn't, he already knew. Mitch didn't even hesitate when he felt the weight of the gun pressing against him, pressing harder now that he spoke. It'd happen many times, and he'd been shot many times. Fear was not a factor here. Instead, the idea that he could get blown away before dismantling this 'agent' into an unrecognizable mess, was. His shoulders tensed up and then with lightning speed collapsed Court's wrist and bent down, sending the gun to the floor. With a single roll of his shoulder, he sent the heavier agent face first towards the side table that was pressed up against the bed. Mitch not only had surprise on his side, but he had quite a few years shaved off. As big as Court was, he couldn't and wouldn't be able to take a younger version of himself.

Sierra Six

Court quickly figured out that the young agent in front of him knew exactly who he was, and that he worked for the CIA too. But didn't add up. Court was part of the covert op where even within the CIA, only a handful of people would know his existence, let alone tracking him to where he is now. And there's something about how calm this kid is that was unnerving for the gray man. Perhaps Court pandered too much, something that he did not have the luxury to afford doing, when he suddenly felt a hard grip on his wrist. He grunted as his pistol got twisted from his hand, and the next thing he knew, his face got smashed into the bedside table. Just hard enough to stunned him, but not hard enough to break it apart. This guy knew how to fight. Court roll over, and was quick to get up. He shook his head to clear his vision. The pistol has been knocked out of reach, and he had bigger problems to deal with him.

"Fellow agent? Did they teach you to attack a fellow agent in the CIA these days?"

Looking to distract the kid with this remark, he rushes over with his entire weight and tackled Mitch on his core. Towards the direction of the pistol so that he could reach for it once they're down. Court still didn't know what's going on, but he knew that it'd be stupid to have a discussion with this man unarmed.

Mitch Rapp

Mitch wasn't here to do a job, that's why he wasn't immediately on Court when he fell. Instead he waited for him to recover, and in the mean time, took great pleasure in kicking his pistol so far under the bed that it hit the opposing wall. He looked down after hearing the noise but was greeted by Court's powerful body colliding with his own. He fell back and nearly clipped into the coffee table in the lounge. He would regret mounting Mitch, seeing as he was an experienced grappler. He was better on the ground than anywhere else. His legs shot up and he wrapped them around Court's middle, scissoring him right there while his hands wrested for control of his neck.

"You know my name. You're going to have plenty of time to figure out who I am tonight." His tone was dry and sharp. But even still, there was a hint of playfulness there, like he was toying with Court. Like he wasn't taking this seriously. He rolled his shoulder and slammed the older man on his back, using his own weight against him.

Sierra Six

Being the gray man, Court operated in the shadows for most of his time after his early CIA days. He wasn't one to fight mano-a-mano, but he was more than capable of handling himself, although it was still rare that he would found himself in a situation like this where his moves were being anticipated. So when he found himself flipped over onto his back, his sides being constricted with his attacker's legs and now with his breathing constricted in a primal choke, he stares up into the young man's eyes. There's a look of defiance in Court's eyes, as he squirms and try to fight against Mitch's grip. Flexing, prying against the brunette's forearm, before he tried to punch him on his side. The veins on Court's forehead pops and his face is turning red, he squeezes his eyes and say, "Who... are you?"

He has heard of this young man, but his intel wasn't enough to figure out why he's after him. Could he be a double agent? Or was Court getting burnt by the CIA once more?

Mitch Rapp

In some sort of twisted way Mitch was both, which was news to both of them. He tightened the scissor, forcing the air out of poor Court's lungs every time he flexed his thighs. He wasn't the most built guy, but he had power behind him. Power, and a determined look in his eye, but that didn't mean he was cocky.

Just kidding.

"That's part of the fun, Court Gentry. It wouldn't be fair if I told you."

As close as they were now, Mitch could admit to himself that he was quite fond of Court. He was muscular and older and probably had more experience than he himself did, but that made it all the sweeter that he was taking him down. Mitch didn't doubt his own skills, not once. Not ever. He leaned back and untangled his legs, only to sensually press himself down against Court's body. His legs, now on top of the older man's own, quickly clinched into a grapevine. "You should fight back a bit more, or else I'm going to get bored and I assure you, you do not want me to get bored."

Their fingers entwined and Mitch made an attempt to wrest them above Court's head, pinning him flat on his back.

Sierra Six

Court has heard about a young operative named Mitch Rapp, but not much is known about him. Court knew enough to recognize that the man in front.. on no top of him was in fact Rapp. The cockiness came through in his every gesture, every words, which was making Court uneasy. He grunted out from the pain, even though he tried to hide it, every time Mitch would squeezed against his midsection, and all of a sudden, the young man let go, only to snake his legs against Court's, and his fingers were forcefully being entwined with Mitch's. Court has fought in countless fights, but nothing quite like this, he thought to himself, as he is in the dark as to the Mitch's motivations, nor could he understand the way he fights.

It felt to Court that he's being toyed with.

He stared into Mitch's eyes, gritting his teeth and flex hard, trying to outmuscle the younger man. Sweating profusely as he was determined to show the cocky kid that he was messing with the wrong guy.

Mitch Rapp

Mitch slammed his hips against Court's own and let the friction of their dress pants against their crotches do the talking. He'd admit that Court was strong, though he wouldn't tell him that. It was taking a good deal to keep the man pinned, but he would do it nonetheless. He'd taken bigger guys. He straightened his back and then rubbed on him, chests grating together. "I can see it. You've got a little light in your eyes just then. Did you think up my name?"

It was apparently a question that Court wasn't intended to answer, because just then Mitch Rapp pulled an arm free and slugged the older man across his chiseled jaw. It wasn't a light punch, either. Not angled enough to bust a lip but enough to send his head spinning. Then his other hand released and came down hard and fast, attempting to strike Court on the other side.

Sierra Six

Court let out a low moan when Mitch's hips smashes against his own. Not so much from the pain, as he is conditioned to handled quite a bit, but from the heat he's feeling against his crotch. There was something degrading about the position he found himself in, as the younger man was literally dry humping him at times as Court tried to shift his way around. He could feel Mitch's hot breath, and Mitch could feel his, when the brunette leaned over and taunted him. But not giving him a chance to respond as a huge fist came smashing against his bearded, chiseled jaw.

ARGH!

Court couldn't helped himself but to scream out, one of his teeth getting knocked loose. He was dazed when he was met with another punch, this time against his other cheek. He could taste blood on his busted lips. Court was stunned, his eyes blinking. He is saw double, but he knew he had to do something. Anything to throw this kid off. So before he could clear his vision he made a fist and took a hard swing up towards Mitch's head, hoping that it would buy him some time before the kid's next move.

Mitch Rapp

Mitch was a vindictive kind who relished in the fact that Court was man enough to strike them even given their current positioning. A lesser man would've tried to talk his way out, figure out Mitch's motives so he could strike him while his guard was down. Not this guy. Not Court Gentry.

He apparently had balls of steel.

In sight of that realization, Mitch allowed the older man to get the punch off. It hit his shoulder and he was toppled to the side, but he refused to be knocked away. His hands gripped Court one under the elbow and one over the top, over-extending it, pulling Court's body against his weight. An armbar. "Say it," he said, punctuating his words by jerking on that already tightly-stretched arm. "I want you to say my name out loud. It'll give you some time to roll it around in that head of yours. Otherwise." Mitch made a sort of click-sound with his tongue, dipping his head in the direction of Court's arm. "I won't ask twice."

Sierra Six

Count's body was mounted.

While he's a very competent fighter, he rarely finds himself being trapped in a position like this. He was used to thinking fast, thinking on his feet. He rarely makes a wrong move against an enemy, which is why he's outlived many of his contemporaries. But the kid in front of him was no ordinary enemy. Court had underestimated his strength, and his speed. No sooner than a second after Court's fist would connect, Mitch had snatched his arm up, overextending it! Court's body flexed up in reflex. His natural reflex giving away the fact that, despite the brave face he was putting up, Court knew he's in deep trouble.

"RAPP!"

There was no harm in saying the kid's name. It will buy him some time, Court thought to himself. Plus, Court knew that another jerk may actually fracture or break his arm, and that's something he'd tried to avoid at all cost. Sweat rolling down his face, as he stared into the kid's eyes. "What do you want?"

Mitch Rapp

Apparently Mitch thought that was funny. Hilarious. He laughed for a good few moments all the while not setting that arm free. Then he got quiet, as if on a dime. "Look at you, you're learning to obey. I was sure it would've taken more than this to get you to. Nevermind." Mitch would talk for now, but Court was treading on eggshells. Should he say the wrong thing, should he say the right thing, should he slight Mitch in any way more than he already had, it would go bad for the older agent. "Since you're being talkative with me, I'll tell you what I want. I want to hurt you. I want to make that six in your name stand for six feet under, if that's a little more obvious." This was a very different experience for Mitch. When he was working he was silent. When he had to speak it was only when it was necessary, and even then, he hated it. It distracted him. But this wasn't work. This was for his own personal satisfaction, and having Court know what was going to come would make it sweeter.

Sierra Six

"What's so funny?" Court said through his gritted teeth, still squirming, trying hard to free himself even though he knew that there was no way that this kid would budge. He finally gave in, and listened to what Mitch was saying. And what Mitch had to say surprised Court. Why would someone from the CIA want him dead? And how did Mitch, as prolific as he is in the agency, know who he is and where to find him? He is the gray man after all. His information classified. Not many even knew of his existence.

When Mitch said he wanted to make his codename six stands for six feet under, Court responded, "No thank you. That's a bit too on the nose, don't you think?"

Taking the time to catch his breath. The kid in front of him is unhinged, but Court knew that he was in a bit of a disadvantage. How did he even know his old call signs? He just needed some time to think about what is going on, and how he could get out of it in one piece.

Mitch Rapp

Well, now that wasn't very nice. It took Mitch a bit of time to think up that line as cringey as it was. Perhaps he wasn't used to hearing his voice sound all quick and quippy. But Court could've at least given him a little credit. The rugged looking young man pressed his lips together. He was smiling before, but not now. His expression was dry and cold, just like his voice when he wasn't joking about killing a man. About killing a fellow agent no less.

He rose up on one knee and forced Court to roll over. He pinned that over extended arm behind his back and knelt down on the center of his spine. He bucked backwards and then let all of his weight slam forward, knee splitting against Court's lower back. Finally, he spoke, his voice husky next to the man's ear: "Killing you would be too on the nose, I agree. Just thought I'd give you a scare there. Live prey is much more fun to toy with, I'm sure you'd agree." Mitch had done his research on Court. It was a shame, really, had the situation been different they might've been friends. Mentor and student.

Sierra Six

Court's mind was racing, trying to figure out the kid's motivation. At the same time needing a way to get out of this sticky situation. Everything is happening at once so much that he noticed Mitch's expression changed a second too late, missing the opportunity to escape when the younger man flipped him over onto his chest. His legs were freed from the entanglement. But Court wasn't able to take advantage of that. The next thing he knew, his arm was pinned behind his back and his spine was forced to take in all of Mitch's weight.

And Mitch was solid.

Court let out a grunt. The feeling of the hot breath on the back of his ear as the kid speaks is making the hair on the back of his neck stand. Court squirmed as he tried to topple the kid but it only take a couple of tries for him to know that it's almost impossible in such position. He let his forehead rest on the carpet. "If you want a toy, I could direct you to a Toys'R'Us somewhere near." Court cracked a joke. Not his best but he knew that it would buy him some time, as he slowly lifted one of his leg to the side, his free hand reaching for a knife he's hid in his back pocket.

Mitch Rapp

Despite his lax demeanor, Mitch was waiting and waiting. Waiting for the moment that Court would try and make a move to fight back. He hadn't yet, but he knew it was coming. So when that hand moved to grab for either another gun or a knife, Mitch simply scoffed under his breath. All he had to do was shift and his knee crunched Court's wrist, pinning it flat against the carpet just like his stupid face. "You're going to answer some questions. Answer honestly, and I'll let you walk out of here. We're both respected and feared in the profession and I'm sure you don't want to end your career early." Neither of those things were true, at least in regards of Mitch. But Court didn't need to know that.

His breathing was smooth and nearly sensual, biting against Court's ear. Early, Court said. Like Sierra Six shouldn't be retired. By now Mitch figured the position his arm was in began to hurt. It had to be sore as it was, but now, twisted like that? Horrible. "First question," he said casually. "What were you reaching for? Or would you like me to check?"

Sierra Six

Court could feel the handle of the switchblade, when all of a sudden, he felt a crushing pressing down against his wrist. UGH! He moaned out loud. And when Mitch shifted his weight, the pressure on his other arm increased, causing Six's body to flex and jerk in reflex, trying to protect himself from the increasing weight bearing down, pushing the joints of his arm tightly together.

Shit Court, how is this kid one step ahead of you, at all times? he thought to himself. And now he finds himself in a position that's literally impossible to escape. He had no choice but to entertain the kid's question.

"I was just reaching for my handkerchief. You know, you dropped by so abruptly, I didn't get a chance to turn on the AC. Just needed something to wipe my sweat." The musky scent was indeed heavy from the fighting and grappling that's been going on.

Mitch Rapp

Why would Court lie about something so obviously refutable? Did he think that Mitch wasn't as threatening anymore now that he'd said he wasn't here to kill him? Did he think that Mitch wouldn't follow through with his threats? Mitch felt slighted almost. Did Court not respect him enough to consider him a threat? No matter. Mitch would simply prove that he wasn't playing around.

He grabbed Court's hand, the same one he kept pinned behind his back, and collapsed one of his fingers into his palm. "Let's play a new game," he said. "Every time you lie to me I'm going to break something. That gives you ten lies until I break something valuable. I'll count this as one."

He put weight on his index finger.

SNAP.

The sound even made Mitch cringe slightly at just how abrupt it was. He tilted his head to the side to keep Court in his view. He wanted to see his reaction.

Sierra Six

Court wanted to buy time. He wanted to get into this kid's head. Mitch is still relatively young, and much less experienced than Court. If there is one clear advantage he had against Mitch, it's his experience. But it is safe to say that Court has miscalculated. He felt his body panicking when Mitch let go of his arm. Pulling back with all his might, but Mitch had this firm grip on his hand, and in a blink of an eye, his index finger was snapped like a glow stick. It all happened so fast. Court screamed feeling the shock and unexpected pain. His face contorting and veins on his forehead popped.

His middle finger now snapped back at an unnatural angle.

Mitch Rapp

Mitch used his free hand to roughly pat Court on the head. "Now. Let's try that again. What were you reaching for?" In his other hand, Mitch still kept Court's arm pinned behind his back. But now he was taunting him, using his thumb to rub up and the knuckle of his broken finger. He would not let the pain dull, and as the night progressed, he would keep to his promise if Court refused to listen. That was something that Mitch hated.

Disobedience.

Being slighted.

Just because Court was older and more experienced, that didn't make Mitch any less of a weapon than he was trained to be. The young man stretched out slowly and grinded his bulge against the ass of Court's dress pants. He was definitely a looker, and someone that if the situation were different, Mitch would've found himself in bed with. He swallowed a laugh. Maybe it could still happen. A broken toy could still be played with, after all.

Sierra Six

Court rarely took things personal. He knows that in this field, it is just business. But there is something frustrating about not being clear on this kid's motivation, something about being in such position that there is only so little he can do. He tried to play it cool. He tried to buy himself some time. But instead, he found himself with a broken finger, and the pain jolts through his body as Mitch rubs his thumb up and down his broken finger. Court's body's squirming under Mitch's. His ass flexing in reflex. His legs sliding. He needed to preserve his strength and not let any other parts of his body be broken like that. So he said, "My switchblade. I was reaching for my switchblade." There were hints of frustration and desperation in Court's calm, tired tone.

Mitch Rapp

"That's better. Sounds more likely, don't you think?" Mitch's tone was soft, almost as if he were happy that Court had finally decided to wise up and give him the truth. Sadly, for Court however, he was contemplating not keeping his word. After all, Court had lied to him. Why shouldn't Mitch be allowed to lie back? With a determined look in his eye, he collapsed another one of poor Court's fingers, this time not being so quick to snap it. He wanted Court to feel it shatter. He decided to make casual talk with Court, and pretend like he wasn't doing anything. After all, he wasn't hurt by it. Why should he care?

"So, you know my name. You're not stupid at the least. But why am I here? Why do you think I would risk my job just to pay you a visit and make your life hell for a night?" A night? Hell, by the time this was over, Mitch planned for Court to take a leave from his job. Maybe a permanent one.

Sierra Six

Court's feeling the exhaustion set in. It was a long night to begin with, and this scuffle was unexpected. His forehead rests on the carpet, his heart sinks a bit when he heard the kid's soft tone, almost gentle tone after he's forced to admit that he's reaching for his switchblade. There's something about admitting "defeat" to a younger, cockier agent. Even if it's only temporary, until Court could find a way out of this. He always would think of a way, and Court was sure that this time is no different.

But his body wakes as his muscles tense up when he felt Mitch grabbing his adjacent finger, "What... what are you doing?" Court's muscular frame thrashing underneath Mitch's, as he felt his finger being bent back hard, and the pain would linger this time. He couldn't help but to yell out when it starts to bend in an unnatural agent. Something is about to snap. ARGH! The calmness of Rapp was unnerving. "FUCK! I DON'T KNOW! TELL ME YOU S-O-B!" He yelled as his finger was about to snap like a twig.

Mitch Rapp

Mitch actually enjoyed hearing Court's screams. They were probably screams that no one had ever heard before. Sierra Six was such a prominent name. Almost like a threat. Whispering that name could put men on edge. And yet here he was, Court in all his glory, submitting to an agent nearly half his age. It was pathetic and disheartening to hear, because Mitch had grown to expect more from the CIA. Not whatever quivering mess Court was. And just because he was disappointed, Mitch decided to finally snap that fucking finger. You said it. Like a twig. But there was a problem he realized only after he heard the snap. The screaming could alert folks, and the hotel was busy tonight.

He couldn't have that. So he leaned down and forced poor Court into a headlock, smothering his face into the crease of his arm.

Sierra Six

It was a rare occasion for Court, to find himself in such predicament. When his second finger finally snapped, it hung out limply in an unnatural, sickening angle along side with index finger. His eyes widened and he couldn't help himself but to scream. He was in disbelief. He still wasn't sure what Rapp had wanted, but to break him like this he probably wanted something major. Or does he?

Court's mind was all over the place. His head was racing. His lungs aching from the scream, only to have the kid lean down, smothering his face against the crease of his arm. His screams muffled. Mitch could feel his warm breath. His sweat. It's like the kid was gently subduing him, letting him know, despite the broken fingers, everything was gonna be okay. But Court knew things are not okay, and his body started to tremble.

Partly from the pain, and partly from fear.

Mitch Rapp

That's exactly what got Mitch Rapp going. Fear. He liked the way that men and boys bowed down to him. It was a power rush, a fantasy when he was a teenager, which became a reality after he graduated high school. The fact that Court was trembling was enough to let him know that he was doing his job and doing it well. Finally, he stood up and straightened his suit. He stepped over Court's body and calmly pulled open the door to check the hallway. A few folks were passing around, and Mitch simply smiled at them and nodded. They seemed not to mind that Court's room had been overtaken, they were none the wiser. Mitch then shut the door and locked it tight, leaning against it lazily.

"Get up," he said sharply. "I want you on your knees."

Sierra Six

Court was feeling sick. His dress shirt is soaked in his own sweat, becoming transparent. His vision blurred as he looked up, seeing his own mangled fingers as he laid there, while Mitch went to the door. He was so cocky that he would even open, it was like he was daring Court to scream. Daring him to make a run for it. But Court was hurting, and he was in too much physical pain to do anything but to shut his eyes and fight the pain. Eventually, after a few moments, he managed to get back up to his feet. He was cradling his hand, those broken fingers. Turning around to face Mitch, "That was uncalled for," Court said breathlessly. "And whatever you want, I am not gonna be able to give it to you!" He lifted his other hand, which managed to snatch the dropped pistol beyond the bed while he was struggling to get up. Court knew he had one shot, and one shot only. He wasn't going for the kill, but with his pistol pointing at the kid's shoulder, he went ahead and start pulling on the trigger!

Mitch Rapp

Mitch's reflexes were fast. No, faster than fast. Instant. He threw out a wicked roundhouse kick, intent on knocking the gun away but uncaring what broke in the process. Something crunched, he heard it, and it surely wasn't the gun. Even still, he brought his leg back and this time tossed an even harder side kick right into Court's tight abs. They were visible now from that sweat soaked shirt, and admittedly, Mitch was getting bothered by the thought of topping Court. That would be soon. The kick landed and he pushed with all his strength to send Court back into the bed. If he landed there or hit the floor was up to however fast the man could react. Either way, Mitch didn't care. He just wanted to make him hurt. Out of his peripherals, he eyed the gun on the floor, that'd been knocked away for a second time. It would remain there now. How stupid he'd been.

Sierra Six

ARGH!

Court yelled out in pain. Mitch moved was so fast that Court didn't had the chance to pull the trigger. Pain exploded in his hand, as Court knew that his hand was shattered from the impact. He looked up, only for a brief second before Rapp's heel connected with his tight abs, sending him flying back. Court's back hit the wall and his body came collapsing down onto the floor. The kick knocked the wind out of him.

Again.

He was gasping and coughing. But he was fighting through the pain, fighting through it all. He rolled, partly dragging himself on the floor until he got into the bathroom, kicking the door closed. You see, he had a backup pistol under the sink. He grabbed it, and through the door, he shot a round. Court didn't care if Mitch was directly behind the door or not. He needed to buy time. He needed luck to be on his side. Court was not a religious man but he was praying that one of these shots would connect.

The pistol was now emptied, and he laid there, with his back against the bottom of the sink, breathing heavily, blinking. He was trying to catch his breath, even though he knew it's probably not the best time to do so.

Mitch Rapp

Mitch wasn't stupid. A closed door was unsafe. Period. And he was right. Shots rang out into the room, shattering both a lap and puncturing the television. Not good. People would have definitely heard that. Or maybe they didn't, and for a moment he was thankful for the dreadful thumb of the music in the hallway drowning all other noise. He sucked in a sharp breath and waited until finally there was no threat. The idiot panicked and ran out, that, or he was saving one for the moment Mitch busted down the door. There were two clear options here: Mitch could leave, which would wound his pride, or he could risk the chance of getting shot over putting the legendary Sierra Six through hell. One of those options was much more favorable than the other. Revenge. Now thoroughly pissed, Mitch slammed the butt of his pistol into the door handle.

Once.

On the second time, it shattered. There was a small hesitation before it opened, if Sierra was hiding a rogue bullet, then would be the time to show it off. No shot. It was all clear. Mitch pushed the door open and didn't immediately maul Sierra as expected. Instead he shut it.

Sierra Six

As soon as Mitch walks in, Six was on him. He grabs Mitch's collar and slams his back against the door, pinning him there with a gun pointing against his jaw. Court had a bullet left, and he was going to use it wisely. It wasn't his intention to kill the kid with all the shots. Court knew that it was something to buy him time. And it did, for him to regroup and get up while Mitch was slamming the door open. And now, the position had been reversed, or that's what Sierra Six had thought. He wanted to know why the kid was after him.

There were more questions than answers right now. And fighting through the pain on his mangled fingers, Court press the pistol hard against Mitch's jaw, "Why are you here? I am only going to ask this once."

Mitch Rapp

Mitch was not happy. Six was smarter than he was letting on and his overconfidence allowed the bastard to one up him. He swallowed hard and eyed the gun as much as he could without moving. His hands remained firm, pressed against the door in a show of submission. But he was ready to pounce nonetheless. "A name," Mitch said with venom. "Stan Hurley." He didn't wait until the words came out of his mouth to attack. He had to be quick or else he'd be taking a long nap. His hands wrapped around Six's wrist and he twisted violently, hoping that it'd be enough for him to instinctively drop the gun. Better yet, shoot the floor and waste the lone bullet that was left.

He was played for a fool once and it would not happen again.

He twisted and twisted, not caring if the whole wrist shattered. It seemed saying Stan's name was enough to fuel his determination. He'd come this far after all for an agent that people barely knew about. If the gun went down, he would step in slam Six into the mirror.

Sierra Six

"Hurley," was the last thing Six heard before he felt a sharp pain exploding on his wrist. He tried to bear it, gritting through his teeth, but as he felt a jab against his nerve, his good finger pulled on the trigger, wasting the last bullet by shooting at the tile floor. "Shit!" Court exclaimed, beating himself on this rare occasion of carelessness, though he should have known better, the man in front of him is not a regular adversaries.

One of CIA's best.

The name Hurley ran a bell though, and things were starting to click. They were on a covert mission some months ago when Court started taking contractor jobs for the agency, but an incident had Hurley badly injured. Court's thought were cut short when he got slammed into the full length mirror, cracking the glass as his spine hit hard. He yelled out from the pain, the pistol dropping as he bent down. They were trapped in the bathroom now, in this almost restricted space. But Court fought back the pain, before even trying to catch his breath he sent a kick towards Mitch's midsection.

Mitch Rapp

Mitch took the blow to his middle and was thrown back into the door. He let out a startled grunt and bit his lip immediately. He wasn't going to show weakness to Six. Not only was this personal, but he had a reputation. He pushed off the door and threw all his weight into a punch at Six's chin.

Mitch hated fighting in tight spaces, he was a generally reckless guy and smaller rooms meant he had to go about things differently. That in mind, he wasn't nervous in the slightest. Sierra was injured, and him meanwhile was perfectly fine. If and when that punch rocked the agent's jaw, he'd send another toward his abs. Then another. If it took him busting open his knuckles to prove a point to Sierra Six about who was in charge, he would happily do it ten times over.

"Stan." He slugged him ever so slightly lower.

"Hurley." He struck again, knocking a candle off the counter.

Sierra Six

Just as quickly, Six was met by a fist to his chin, rocking his head back and spits fly out from his mouth. he staggered back, reeling from the power behind that punch. Instinctively, he lifts his arms up defensively. Court was a competent fighter but he hadn't come up across many who were at the same level as this kid. Without the ability to jump on the kid, Court was at a disadvantage here, and it was starting to show. As he was trying to anticipate Mitch's next move, the kid would target something else. First it's his abs, then his ribs. Six grunted, flexing his body. But the punches hurt, hurting like hell. Mitch seemed to be one step ahead of him, connecting with blow after blow as Court's defensive stance had more and more holes in them.

Mitch Rapp

The moment Mitch saw that Six had waivered, he stepped in chest to chest and grabbed him by his shirt collar. He pinned him against the shower, looking up at his prey indifferent. He hated the fact he was getting enjoyment out of something as trivial as revenge, Stan would probably beat the life out of him if he knew that Mitch was reveling in this. Still. Mitch's eyes seemed distant, yet still he stared through Six.

"I'll have you know one thing I enjoy is watching those ah, you know, the animal documentaries? I love lions." He smiled ruefully. "And well, I know sometimes the older lions kill the male cubs because they feel threatened. Can't have them overtaking the pride, after all. There's been a few times though that the cubs put up a fight. Sometimes they even get the kill, all because the alpha male was too alpha and put his pride over his well. Pride."

Mitch leaned in and pressed his elbow across Sierra Six's neck, using his weight alone to cut off his oxygen.

Sierra Six

Six's guards were broken, taking hit after hit before the kid grabbed his shirt collar and pinned him hard against the shower. The fact is that Six was not ready for the fight. The ambush rather. And now he's paying for it. Mitch was strong and there is something in his eyes that scared even one of the best convert agents CIA had ever produced. Court grunted, as he pried on Mitch's forearm with his good hand. He let out a pitched moan when the kid pressed his forearm hard against his windpipe. He was standing on the tip of his toes, his face contorting, turning red, veins popping. Sweat rolling down the side of his face as he's forced to stare into the kid's eyes.

Staring into the eyes of a cub turning into a lion.

Mitch Rapp

Mitch was close enough to Six that it looked like they could've kissed. Mitch was dedicated to knocking the poor agent out. Surely someone had heard those gunshots, and what then? They'd come and blow his whole plan. No. There would be a bit of cleanup he had to do before he could get play with his toy again. But he was used to that by now. With any luck, the music would be all the cover he needed. He leaned forward, forcing all of his weight down on Six's throat.

"Stop fighting it. You're fingers are shattered. Probably broke a rib or two. Wouldn't it be easier for you just to succumb to sleep?" His story about the lion was only to get under Sierra Six's skin, to show that even after all the fight he put up, Mitch wasn't worried. He could still make idle conversation. That, and it just so happened he was the metaphor for the cub. Smart, huh? He moved his other arm over the agent's nose, smothering him out now entirely. "Goodnight, Sierra Six. A shame I have to cut this short. But you were the one who wanted to draw attention on us, eh?"

Sierra Six

Court was fighting and fighting hard. He pried hard against the kid's arm with his good hand and through the pain of his broken fingers, trying to set himself free, but his air supply was being cut off. The kids wanted revenge, but it didn't seemed to Six that he wanted him dead, not right away. As Six struggled, Mitch pressed his hand against his mouth and nose. Putting him in a kiss of death, feeling Court's hot breath against the palm of his hand. Court was struggling hard, staring into the cub's eyes with his fluttering blue eyes. Any sound he was making were being muffled.

His lungs were burning. It took a few minutes, but soon, Court's eyes roll back and his arms drop limply to his side. Leaving him drifting into darkness, pondering what fate awaits him.

Published: 2022-06-29, viewed 65 times.