Chapter Text
Mitch wanted to throw a chair to someone's face after boarding the plane once again, spending more than two hundred dollars to head back. Irene Kennedy had gotten on his nerves more than several times, although he couldn't let a bunch of innocent kids die because of him. The Pack wouldn't understand what he'd do for a living, Scott would just think that it was better to save them than to kill them. That wasn't true. Terrorists have a different mind set than the average human. They take their plan into depth and in action, wanting to watch everyone suffer because of them. They were the definition of monster and Mitch will stop them.
Of course, it hasn't crossed his mind that it would end completely bad. There was a different between who you're targeting and who are targeting you. Those terrorists never thought to think of that because while he's planning to eliminate the bundle of terrorism groups, his enemies don't realize that he's targeting them also until Mitch really gives them a clear warning that he is. He isn't a mind reader so he had to figure out the rest once everything was put into action and some may have been better off if he had just backed off.
Lastly, Mitch wasn't the one to put the blame on anyone. Especially, Irene Kennedy. His level of anger had rose to a level where he can be tolerated by just anything. The fact that he had to put so much issues of his away was not helping, it was making things worse. When he was Stiles Stilinski, he was always this happy spaz who never really cared about anything in life. He changed drastically throughout the five to seven years that he had been through. His life as Stiles were quite a bit blurry but he could remember some memories like the Kanima, the Alpha and the Alpha Pack but that was the past. This is the present.
He spotted a blue Jaguar XF Supercharged parked at the corner of La Torre street. The car stood out to him like it was covered in Christmas lights unlike other people who just see it as a regular car. It was a great car to use to spy on certain targets that used suspicious black vans. The only thing that bothered him was the person driving it.
Stan Hurley.
“Hey, kid.” Stan said once Mitch approached with his duffel bag hanging off his shoulder. “Get in. Irene and Thomas are expecting you.” Without saying anything, Mitch walked around to the back of car and popped open the trunk. He threw his lightweight duffel bag in and shut it close before walking to the passenger and sat in. The seat was comfortable, what really surprised him was that he never thought Stan would go for the fancy cars.
“I'm not surprised,” Mitch retorted as he stared out of the window. They were in London at the moment which gave Mitch a flashback of when he was quite framed, if he said so himself. He drifted towards his deep thoughts as they were caught in traffic but never as deep than he would usually go. “Do you know where Victor's whereabouts are? It would be great if you guys had a headstart because it would get a lot of things done faster.”
“Yes, we do.” Hurley smirked. “Son of a bitch doesn't know what's coming to 'im.”
Mitch let out a small chuckle and bit down on the tip of his thumb. “I should've just killed Victor.” He said. “Placing a bullet in the thick hallowed brain of his would've done me great pleasure and everything would've been completely fine. How could've I been so stupid and let him off the fucking rack?”
“You think that's bad? I hired that piece of shit.” Hurley snorted. Mitch nodded in agreement and popped his neck joint, feeling a sense of karma when they passed by something quite suspicious. The dark building was torn down, the roof of the building was ripped off. Graffiti painted the walls but one spray painted picture stood out to him. A symbol that he's seen before but he could not point it out. It was just at the tip of his tongue.
Mitch felt his phone buzz in his pockets and he huffed slightly, grabbing to reach it when Stan stopped him. “Who's calling you? I didn't know you had friends.” He said.
“I don't.” Mitch blinked at him before answering the phone call. “Hello?” He greeted professionally.
“Stiles, it's Danny!” Mitch tensed as the hacker said with emphasis. “God, it's been a long time!” Mitch furrowed his brows and licked his lips. Danny and Mitch never really talked in their days at high school but Danny acted like they've been best friends for a long time. Sure, Mitch asked the kid if he was attracted to gay guys and searched through his bag to find something that could lead them to the latest monster back in 2009 but they never greeted each other like this.
“Oh, yeah. Hi. How did you get my number?” Mitch asked curiously. He didn't give his number to his dad, Melissa, or any of the Pack members but the fact that Danny is a hacker just made it worse. He did not trust the Pack and now Danny was calling him.
“Oh, um.” Danny was silent for a second before continuing again. “I heard that you were back in town but then you left abruptly before we could talk with each other so I pinned your phone when you were leaving to the airport. I know it must seem weird but I really need to talk to you.”
“I'm busy, Danny. Maybe later?”
“No. Stiles, we need to talk right now.” Mitch and Stan shared a glance when the car stopped. Stan told Mitch that he was gonna smoke a cigarette and leave them to it. As he did, Mitch casted an irritated look on his face and rubbed his temple. “Please.”
“Fine but you have five minutes.”
“Look, I know that you're angry at the Pack but you shouldn't be. They kicked you out of the Pack so they could keep you safe.”
Mitch groaned. “Danny, it's been seven years. I'm past that and I really don't care why they kicked me out. I'm just glad I got out of there before I ruined myself.” Mitch told him. “Is that all you needed to talk about or are we done?”
“We're done.” Muttered Danny who felt bad for tolerating Mitch.
Mitch sighed. “Look, Danny. I get that you're doing a favor but I've stopped caring about what the Pack is doing nowadays.” He looked outside the window where Greta and Stan were talking, unaware that Mitch had his window cracked up a bit. “I didn't mean to make you feel guilty but I'm not really in the mood to talk about them.”
“Sorry,” he apologized.
“Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong. I'll talk to you later, Danny.” Danny said his goodbyes and Mitch ended the call. He locked his phone away in his pocket and stepped up, greeting Greta with a smile. “Hey, Greta. I didn't expect you to be here.”
Greta walked up to him and pecked his lips. “Of course I'd be here.” Stan narrowed his eyes at Mitch and shook his head. Greta giggled and whispered to Mitch, “he still doesn't approve that you're dating me.”
Mitch gave a lopsided smile to her and kissed her cheek before leading her in the building, trailing behind Stan. The place was a bit more decorative than the other buildings that they were stationed at but this was just a temporary location for the month instead of Fairfax, Virginia. They approached the Board of Directors in their fancy court room where they would discuss the plans to prevent the bombing of a school. “General Szohr, this is Mitch Rapp and his girlfriend, Greta Ohlmeyer.” Irene introduced them without bothering to look at them. “The other is Stan Hurley, he's a Cold War Veteran.”
“Cold War Veteran, huh?” Szohr hummed in interest. “And Mitch Rapp is the American Assassin, am I right?”
“Yes, sir.” Irene nodded.
“I'd hate to interject,” Mitch started. “But on the behalf of Irene Kennedy, I was called here to stop one of our former recruits of the CIA. Can we please get on to that, sir?”
The three board of Directors looked at each other and nodded, telling them to take a seat. Greta and Mitch sat together while Stan and Irene sat on the opposite side of them. They were at least three feet away from each other as they were staring at the cold hard eyes of General Szohr, Director Fhaji and Darwin. Mitch did not flinch as to Irene who could barely keep herself in control. They were told that they were going to be in a meeting with three of the most powerful people in London and Irene had to play her cards correctly if she wanted to please them.
“Well, legends are always welcomed in our building, Mr. Rapp.” Fhaji had said. “You're quite the mysterious assassin I've ever met. You hold yourself together well. It's rare to see that in young men like you.”
“Legend?” Mitch asked.
“Your identity is publicly sealed for specific purposes but your story of your kills have intrigued many government officials that they are trying to seek you out by displaying false terrorist attacks in different countries and states. Your kills are clean and thorough, never missing a shot. But I heard that you had been shot due to the lack of eye coordination, am I right?”
Greta pressed her hand to the healed bullet wound on Mitch's shoulder and frowned. Mitch answered. “You're not half wrong, sir. The men who ambushed me while I was trying to eliminate a threat were using machine guns so they can get rid of me. Fortunately, I survived and killed some of the men but I did not realize that another man had approached in the end which lead to being shot.” Mitch said.
“Well, I'm sorry to hear that.” Fhaji said, flipping the pages of the document that they had on Mitch Ripp. It was only two pages. One full page was about Mitch's incredible rate when learning new things and the other was about what they had found out about him. It wasn't very informative since it only included his name, his birth date and his family members but not the place where he was born.
Szohr shot an unamused look at Stan who growled under his breath when Fhaji made his opinions about him, most of them were good, and some were very insulting but Stan kept his mouth quiet. “You do understand that this needs to be quiet? We don't want this mission to be like what happened in Paris.”
“Yes, sir.” Greta squeezed his hand and rubbed his back with the other. “This will be different.”
“Good.” Darwin nodded. “You may be excused. For now, you will act on your own but as a team to get rid of the threat. If you do not successfully wipe him out, you will be dismissed from any counterterrorism activities.”
“Yes, sir.” They all said in sync. With a wave of the General's hand, they walked out of the large room in a line formation and stepped out. “Why are we even trusting them?” Mitch asked.
“Because they're the most powerful men in London, Mitch. If you were to make one common mistske, they would have you disbanded here from no time. They make the rules, we follow them. It doesn't matter if we're just Americans.” Irene said. “The one good thing is that they were impressed at how you handled situations without showing anything but bleakness.”
Stan scoffed. “Those fuckers need to lay off for awhile. I do not take being insulted lightly.” He muttered.
“Well, you deserved it, Stan.” Irene admits.
“Why do you guys need permission to stop Victor anyways?” Greta asked. “Couldn't you just do it in the shadows? Would've that been a better way instead of wasting time?”
“Greta, if we caused damage that cost more than one million dollars in advance, we'd get arrested for illegally creating a war zone in the midst of London.” Stan said. “Not that I would know.”
“That's illegal?” Greta asked, baffled.
“Yeah, sweetheart.” Mitch nodded. “It just never really happened in the past couple of years.” Greta's mouth morphed into an 'O' shape as she finally understood. Standing by Irene Kennedy, the two men were leaving and Hurley fished out his keys. Greta pressed one last kiss to Mitch and grinned.
“I love you.” She said.
“I love you too.” Giving her a chaste kiss, he turned around and all of the happiness faltered. He loves Greta but he had to keep her safe. He still wasn't over his high school sweetheart, Mary, and it made it hard that he was thinking of her a lot. Greta was beautiful. She had bright green eyes, platinum blonde hair that she'd always tie in a ponytail, a slim body and a beautiful facial structure. Greta is a kind woman but Mitch did not deserve her.
As they walked to the car, Stan pressed the unlock button on the smart key. But they didn't know that it triggered something within the car, causing it to blow up and throw them back forcefully as it erupted in flames.
Mitch fell to the ground with small pieces of the car in him, hitting his head hard on the ground while fracturing his arm. Stan landed on the steps of the building where the sharp ends had digged into his back. Splotches blurred their vision, the smell of smoke filled their nose and muffled shouts had bombarded their ears along with a shrill ringing.
Someone rigged their car, trying to kill them.
Mitch was going to find whoever did and beat the hell out of them.