Fallen Friends - By Beast
Disclaimer: I don't own Ethan Hunt or Luther Stickell, however Ant Clark and James Campbell are my own creation. In the unlikely event that you wish to use any of my characters, just e-mail me first to check it's okay. Cruise/Wagner Productions, please don't sue me. I'm skint anyway. This message will self-destruct in five seconds.
"Where is he?"
Luther tapped more keys and watched the screen. "Just over half a mile away. The roadblock all set up?"
Anthony Clark pushed his earpiece in a little tighter to hear Luther, who was in the comms van around the bend under the pretence of having broken down. "Yes, Luther. I'm ready to rock and roll." His Manchester accent was bland - no hint of England at all - but that didn't matter; with an example he could imitate more than a few accents. He reached down to his right hip and made sure that the pistol's safety was on.he didn't want to shoot anyone.
Anthony was dressed in the dark green tunic of the Liechtenstein special police, and silently thanked God as it started to rain. It was good enough that this op was taking place at night time, but rain made the whole thing a hell of a lot easier.
"Ant?"
"Luther."
"Ten seconds away. Get ready."
"Okay.I've got the target redballed." The big, unmarked van turned the corner and braked at the sight of Ant. It pulled off to the side of the road, but it was useless.there hadn't been another car drive past here for the past half an hour; a strategically placed roadwork at both ends ensured that. The van's window rolled down and the driver seemed to take in the person approaching the van. Tall, at least 6"3, with dark red hair and severely overweight. "Oui?"
Ant replied, in fluent French, "We've got a roadblock in place. Have to see your I.D."
"Why a roadblock?" His hand moved to his pistol.
"Top secret. Your I.D and transport papers, please. What are you doing?"
"Top secret," the driver replied with a smirk. Ant knew what they were doing of course; they were transporting a captured American spy working undercover to a secure prison.
Ant got close to the van and was justified for reaching for his big, Maglite torch. There was no light in the torch but a cartridge that would - as soon as he pressed the right button - immediately start spewing an instant knock-out gas. The gas had been developed by the IMF's technicians, a mixture of some very powerful anaesthetics that, whilst being completely non-lethal, would put whoever received it out for a long time. Ant had taken a pill four hours ago that rendered him completely useless to the gas.all he'd get is maybe an itchy nose from it.
Ant could see the guy in the driver's seat and was grateful to see another face in the passenger's seat.
"I need your I.D," he said to Driver, who, without warning, grabbed his pistol and pulled it up, aiming it at Ant's face. Ant's eyes widened and he immediately dropped to the floor, shielding himself. He crouched and put his hands over his face, waiting for the inevitable bullet, before he heard a Swiss voice whisper, "It's alright. Get up, Clark. I've got him."
Ant straightened and saw the passenger put his finger to his lips and point to the back of the van, where the prisoner was being held. Ant nodded and stalked carefully to the back.
Passenger put the key in the lock and prepared to turn it, looking at Ant. Ant just nodded back and got out his torch.
Quick as a flash, the door opened and Ant threw the torch in, seeing it spew gas everywhere.
Ten seconds later Ant looked inside and saw all the people dead to the world, except for the prisoner. Passenger must've slipped an impervious pill into his food.
"What's happening?" There was definite panic in his voice, "What's going on?!?"
Passenger reached down the neck of his tunic and grabbed a firm hold of something, pulled his hand back up and whilst he did so, his face seemed to contort and, well.peel away.
Prisoner's face lit; he smiled and exhaled, "Hunt!"
Ethan Hunt smiled at his captured IMF agent and said, "C'mon, it's a complicated ex-fil." He reached forward and unlocked the cuffs.prisoner jumped out and started rubbing his wrists. They all started running, prisoner following Ethan and Ant.
"Luther in the van?" he asked breathlessly.
"Yep," Ant replied.
"That your face?" Ant smiled.he knew what he was asking: 'You wearing a facemask'.
"Nope. Ant Clark."
"James Campbell. I'll shake your hand later," he stated as the van came into sight.
Ant put his hand to his ear to ensure that his earpiece was still working and said, "Luther, we've got the package. Start the engine. Now."
The exhaust blew smoke into their face, but that didn't matter since Campbell, Hunt and Clark and jumped in the back as Luther pulled away.
They all sat breathlessly for a moment, until Ant pulled off his facemask and held out his hand. "Ant Clark. Good to meet you as myself."
Campbell smiled and said, "Don't worry. Done it myself more than a few times."
Ethan grabbed a bin bag full of clothes and handed it to Campbell, who started shucking his prison clothes. Ant grabbed his and took of his uniform, including the padding that made him appear heavier than he was and one foot taller. But still, he was nearly 6"2 and fourteen stone, which is no easy accomplishment. Since it's all muscle.
They were all soon dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, so when Ant stepped out at the border with France he looked nearly normal, with his own black hair and blue eyes. He popped some chewing gum into his mouth and suddenly wished he was back in England, in his old Cambridge University dorm with his mates. But he wouldn't give up this job for the world.
Ethan beckoned Ant over; he was fluent in French, whereas Ethan was more upto date in Spanish. The customs official bought the story that they were international news reporters doing a series of travel bulletins. Of course, he slipped in a sentence to the effect that, "Liechtenstein is the best we've been to so far." Along with their excellent (forged) credentials and travel documents, there wasn't a problem.
As they were halfway through Switzerland, Ethan turned to Ant and said, "You did well, Ant."
Ant shook his head and said, "I should've dropped the driver earlier."
"It's a mistake anyone could make. And I gave him a jab in the neck.he won't be waking up anytime soon. If at all."
Ant shook his head again.
Ethan gave him a sideways look and said, "Alright, then, if that's how you feel then I would bump you up to my A1 ops. The frequently used ones."
"Then again."
Disclaimer: I don't own Ethan Hunt or Luther Stickell, however Ant Clark and James Campbell are my own creation. In the unlikely event that you wish to use any of my characters, just e-mail me first to check it's okay. Cruise/Wagner Productions, please don't sue me. I'm skint anyway. This message will self-destruct in five seconds.
"Where is he?"
Luther tapped more keys and watched the screen. "Just over half a mile away. The roadblock all set up?"
Anthony Clark pushed his earpiece in a little tighter to hear Luther, who was in the comms van around the bend under the pretence of having broken down. "Yes, Luther. I'm ready to rock and roll." His Manchester accent was bland - no hint of England at all - but that didn't matter; with an example he could imitate more than a few accents. He reached down to his right hip and made sure that the pistol's safety was on.he didn't want to shoot anyone.
Anthony was dressed in the dark green tunic of the Liechtenstein special police, and silently thanked God as it started to rain. It was good enough that this op was taking place at night time, but rain made the whole thing a hell of a lot easier.
"Ant?"
"Luther."
"Ten seconds away. Get ready."
"Okay.I've got the target redballed." The big, unmarked van turned the corner and braked at the sight of Ant. It pulled off to the side of the road, but it was useless.there hadn't been another car drive past here for the past half an hour; a strategically placed roadwork at both ends ensured that. The van's window rolled down and the driver seemed to take in the person approaching the van. Tall, at least 6"3, with dark red hair and severely overweight. "Oui?"
Ant replied, in fluent French, "We've got a roadblock in place. Have to see your I.D."
"Why a roadblock?" His hand moved to his pistol.
"Top secret. Your I.D and transport papers, please. What are you doing?"
"Top secret," the driver replied with a smirk. Ant knew what they were doing of course; they were transporting a captured American spy working undercover to a secure prison.
Ant got close to the van and was justified for reaching for his big, Maglite torch. There was no light in the torch but a cartridge that would - as soon as he pressed the right button - immediately start spewing an instant knock-out gas. The gas had been developed by the IMF's technicians, a mixture of some very powerful anaesthetics that, whilst being completely non-lethal, would put whoever received it out for a long time. Ant had taken a pill four hours ago that rendered him completely useless to the gas.all he'd get is maybe an itchy nose from it.
Ant could see the guy in the driver's seat and was grateful to see another face in the passenger's seat.
"I need your I.D," he said to Driver, who, without warning, grabbed his pistol and pulled it up, aiming it at Ant's face. Ant's eyes widened and he immediately dropped to the floor, shielding himself. He crouched and put his hands over his face, waiting for the inevitable bullet, before he heard a Swiss voice whisper, "It's alright. Get up, Clark. I've got him."
Ant straightened and saw the passenger put his finger to his lips and point to the back of the van, where the prisoner was being held. Ant nodded and stalked carefully to the back.
Passenger put the key in the lock and prepared to turn it, looking at Ant. Ant just nodded back and got out his torch.
Quick as a flash, the door opened and Ant threw the torch in, seeing it spew gas everywhere.
Ten seconds later Ant looked inside and saw all the people dead to the world, except for the prisoner. Passenger must've slipped an impervious pill into his food.
"What's happening?" There was definite panic in his voice, "What's going on?!?"
Passenger reached down the neck of his tunic and grabbed a firm hold of something, pulled his hand back up and whilst he did so, his face seemed to contort and, well.peel away.
Prisoner's face lit; he smiled and exhaled, "Hunt!"
Ethan Hunt smiled at his captured IMF agent and said, "C'mon, it's a complicated ex-fil." He reached forward and unlocked the cuffs.prisoner jumped out and started rubbing his wrists. They all started running, prisoner following Ethan and Ant.
"Luther in the van?" he asked breathlessly.
"Yep," Ant replied.
"That your face?" Ant smiled.he knew what he was asking: 'You wearing a facemask'.
"Nope. Ant Clark."
"James Campbell. I'll shake your hand later," he stated as the van came into sight.
Ant put his hand to his ear to ensure that his earpiece was still working and said, "Luther, we've got the package. Start the engine. Now."
The exhaust blew smoke into their face, but that didn't matter since Campbell, Hunt and Clark and jumped in the back as Luther pulled away.
They all sat breathlessly for a moment, until Ant pulled off his facemask and held out his hand. "Ant Clark. Good to meet you as myself."
Campbell smiled and said, "Don't worry. Done it myself more than a few times."
Ethan grabbed a bin bag full of clothes and handed it to Campbell, who started shucking his prison clothes. Ant grabbed his and took of his uniform, including the padding that made him appear heavier than he was and one foot taller. But still, he was nearly 6"2 and fourteen stone, which is no easy accomplishment. Since it's all muscle.
They were all soon dressed in jeans and sweatshirts, so when Ant stepped out at the border with France he looked nearly normal, with his own black hair and blue eyes. He popped some chewing gum into his mouth and suddenly wished he was back in England, in his old Cambridge University dorm with his mates. But he wouldn't give up this job for the world.
Ethan beckoned Ant over; he was fluent in French, whereas Ethan was more upto date in Spanish. The customs official bought the story that they were international news reporters doing a series of travel bulletins. Of course, he slipped in a sentence to the effect that, "Liechtenstein is the best we've been to so far." Along with their excellent (forged) credentials and travel documents, there wasn't a problem.
As they were halfway through Switzerland, Ethan turned to Ant and said, "You did well, Ant."
Ant shook his head and said, "I should've dropped the driver earlier."
"It's a mistake anyone could make. And I gave him a jab in the neck.he won't be waking up anytime soon. If at all."
Ant shook his head again.
Ethan gave him a sideways look and said, "Alright, then, if that's how you feel then I would bump you up to my A1 ops. The frequently used ones."
"Then again."