Red Target

Chapter 1

After surviving the helicopter crash in Kashmir, India, August Walker found a way out of the country, and he disappeared, making believe Hunt and the rest of his team that he had died on the mountain.

The incident with the two helicopters resulted in three deaths, two pilots and another military man who was aboard and that Ethan Hunt stole to pursue Walker and prevent the bombs from exploding. He got it. The bombs did not explode but he was about to die at the hands of the traitor agent.

In the end, after crossing the border and leaving India, Walker arrived to China to board a plane that would take him out of there in a matter of a few hours. Nobody was chasing him because his body fell down, and Hunt did not even bother to make sure of his death. That gave him the advantage, the necessary one he needed to flee and settle in a new country.

His appearance attracted a lot of attention at the Beijing airport, but only because of his physique. He was taller than most, and his Caucasian features made it impossible for him to go unnoticed. However, he was calm. As if he had not just suffered an accident that nearly cost him his life.

"A plane ticket to Glasgow, please." He kindly asked the young woman behind the counter. He was informed that there was a stopover in Frankfurt, and that the flight would last almost twenty hours. August accepted and paid in cash the ticket, which surprised the employee although she did not say a word about it.

Of course, he used a false identity.

Henry Walker embarked on a flight to Glasgow, Scotland, to start a new life.

Exhausted after almost a full day of travel, Henry Walker finally stepped on Scottish territory.

The weather was wet and cold, but it was something he expected. In spite of bad weather, tourists invaded the town walking through the main streets where big luxury hotels reigned.

"Hello, I'm Henry Walker. I want a room." He said to the pudgy man behind the counter of the modest hotel in the downtown. He could afford a much better room, but going unnoticed during the first weeks was essential. Besides, he had seen himself in worse situations.

"Here you go."

"Thank you."

He grabbed the key and walked up the stairs to the top floor. The hotel had five floors and was well looked after. Upon walking into the room, the first thing he did was to close the curtains and put his little travel bag on the bed.

He turned on one of the lamps on either side of the bed, and the room was dimly lit. He did not need more, and it would soon get dark. Henry was exhausted and his body began to pay the consequences of the stress suffered for the last days. The fight with Hunt was tough despite being bigger than him, and surviving that fall…

That would provoke him nightmares for a while.

What he needed at that moment was a good hot shower.

He undressed as quickly as he could, stretching his muscles and looked at himself in the full-length mirror in front of him. He was completely naked, and his physique was impressive. Any woman would have fallen before him even with the numerous wounds and bruises. His strong arms and abdomen were plagued with bruises, but he didn't care. Luckily the wounds on his face were barely visible, and they'd disappear in a few days. He checked his body from top to bottom in front of the mirror, and smiled crookedly, remembering that probably Ethan Hunt felt much worse after the beating.

Walking into the bathroom he turned on the hot water tap in the shower. Soon everything would be covered in steam and he'd enjoy a bit of relaxation. For the moment he remained with his hands resting on each side of the sink, and concentrated on the snow-white porcelain. He relived in his mind every second of what was almost his last day on Earth, and he didn't like at all. He was strong and very well trained both physically and psychologically, but when that helicopter fell…

"That's enough!" He snapped and hit the sink with both hands. The blow hurt his hands, but he ignored it and walked into the cabin so the hot water erased all traces of his traumatic experience.

His battered body was barely able to register the almost boiling water that fell on his back. It burned him, yes, but he needed that somehow that pain acted like a balm dragging all the suffering experienced. He wished to get rid of all the pain caused so he could start over, as he had done countless times before.

John Lark had died on that mountain, as had August Walker. The last thing that remained was the last name, but nothing more. And with such a common surname there was no risk of being discovered. He had left the United States, and everyone believed he died in an accident. The odds of someone recognizing him in Scotland were remote and almost nonexistent.

After a half an hour shower and with only a towel around his waist, he felt much better. The pain still persisted but he was almost completely relaxed. He looked at himself in the mirror and made a decision.

The mustache had to disappear.

However, he was too tired to shave at that moment. It would have been a great effort and he was in no condition for it. He just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep the whole night.

For the first time in years, the alarm on his cell phone did not ring to warn him to wake up. He only opened his eyes when a small slit of light filtered through the curtains, hitting directly against his face. He immediately opened them but remained laying down. It took him a few seconds before remembering that he was safe now and no one was after him.

He stood there, motionless, watching the ceiling, thinking on what he would do on his first day as a free man. Hiding and being alert were no longer priorities, however, he would always look over his shoulder to avoid being caught by surprise. The big guys would send a cleaning unit to the mountains of Kashmir to get rid of the accident's remains, and if they didn't find a corpse that matched with him, they would begin to suspect that August Walker didn't actually die that day. But nobody knew what really happened, not even Ethan Hunt himself and he was the only one who was there. His best option was for them to think that during the explosion his body volatilized and that his remains would have dispersed along the mountain.

He sat down at the foot of the bed, still completely naked, and breathed deeply a few times. He still felt very sore, but the sooner he moved the better he would feel.

Standing up, he flexed arms and legs several times, enduring the pain and feeling better afterwards. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He looked at himself in the mirror and touched his beard, perhaps saying goodbye to the mustache that had accompanied him until then. He grabbed the disposable blade and soaked it, getting rid of his previous appearance to look like a new man.

As soon as he got out on the street, he had to fasten his leather jacket because the air was cold and irritated his freshly shaved face. The snow was still piling up on the sidewalks and it was expected to continue snowing for the next few days. However, Henry chose to ignore the cold and kept strolling. He hadn't eaten anything since the airplane's disappointing dinner, and his stomach was beginning to roar like an enraged animal. There were many elegant restaurants full of well-groomed people, but he never liked being like others. He was still a simple man and preferred to eat something that had less class but was more delicious.

Maybe that's why he ended up walking into a cafeteria situated not far from his hotel, where people lined up waiting for a table or just a take-away order. The food had to be good, he thought, and opened the door, standing at the end of the line.

Despite the amount of people packed inside the place, he didn't have to wait long for his turn to arrive. He preferred to ask for a table to have a quiet breakfast instead of wandering around without any destination. He wasn't yet familiar with the town, and going out at night was something he liked for the time being.

Only fifteen minutes later he got a table for one by the windows, and a very kind waitress brought him a cup of coffee. It tasted delicious, and when he had just drank a bit, another waitress, much younger than the first, greeted him kindly.

"Good morning, sir, I'm Celine, and I'll be your waitress today. How can I serve you?" Henry looked her up and down, enjoying the view. The girl, because she wouldn't be more than twenty-five, was very pretty. Tall, slender, pale skin, long, wavy, red hair, and beautiful emerald eyes. "Have you had a chance to take a look at our menu?"

"I'm afraid not, sorry." He replied with a charming smile.

"All right, I'll give you a few more minutes then." And before he could thank her, the young woman disappeared to attend another customer.

Suddenly, the morning had just improved. That girl was the first person to treat him well since he arrived to Scotland. No employee had smiled or spoken with respect to him except for her, and he thought that cafeteria was a good place to have breakfast.

And maybe also lunch and dinner.

This is my own vision of a character I really liked, and I think he deserved his own story. So I hope you like this first chapter, and leave me a review if you want for me to continue.

Thanks.