Here we are! My first prompt fic, courtesy of the lovely ilsafausts! I'm finally moved in enough to where I feel like I can write some so hopefully, I'll be getting to a few more prompts soon. I've gotten quite a few good ones and I'm excited to write them out! Really quick, just so no one is confused, the Royal Ascot is one of the biggest horse races in the world, held in Ascot about an hour west of central London. If you have a prompt of your own, please feel free to leave a comment!
Ilsa and Ethan walked arm-in-arm, roughly 20 meters behind their mark, blending in perfectly with the crowd that had gathered for the Royal Ascot. This year's race proved to be just as big as all the previous years, with some of Europe's biggest names in industry and media showing up, along with the usual appearance of the English Royal Family.
"Did I have to wear this penguin suit?" whispered Ethan, trying his hardest not to remove his jacket with its ridiculous coattails. "I've seen at least a dozen people wearing normal suits."
"Yes, but none of them are going to the Royal Enclosure, which is where our fancy mark, Mr. Rahm, is headed," buzzed in Benji over the comm link.
"And by the looks of it, you should've taken the hat, too," chimed in Luther, sitting at a cafe table, discreetly watching the two partners and Mr. Rahm from the public thoroughfare.
"Over my dead body," replied Ethan, eyeing a few of the goofy-looking top hats sitting atop some equally goofy-looking gentlemen.
"Come on now, Ethan," said Ilsa, her own massive and gaudy hat flapping gently in the wind. "If I have to wear this abomination, you could definitely manage a top hat."
Ethan couldn't help but smile at the woman on his arm who, despite the hat, looked as radiant and commanding as she always did.
"I don't know, Ethan, I kind of like it," said Brandt, wearing the full regalia while waiting for Rahm inside the enclosure.
The team was as relaxed as they ever managed to be on an operation. This op, in particular, had all the hallmarks of being a simple pickup-and-go. Ethan and Ilsa probably could've dealt with the entire operation on their own, but the rest of the team jumped at the opportunity to attend one of the major social gatherings in the United Kingdom.
Rahm brought no security with him, he wasn't even aware that he was wanted for questioning by the IMF, and the added security with the Royals present made it difficult for any other party to move any more aggressively than them, which is to say, not aggressively at all. It would take a monumentally stupid group of terrorists to attempt anything on these grounds.
None of that was to say that crazed armed terrorists didn't try something monumentally stupid on a regular basis, which was why the team was only mildly relaxed. While Rahm was involved in shady dealings with groups that several intelligence agencies around the world would like to get their hands on, Rahm himself, however, was generally harmless.
Ethan and Ilsa made their way through the security for the Royal Enclosure, keeping Rahm in view while staying far enough back to not arouse his suspicion. The pieces were almost in place for the two to make their move, Ilsa would approach Rahm, engaging him in conversation before Ethan would walk behind him and prick him with the syringe, rendering him incoherent and looking intoxicated to the other guests. It was a tried-and-true tactic that worked perfectly as long as everything went to plan. The fact that it almost never went to plan was not lost on the team.
"Ilsa! Dear!" came a shout from behind them.
"Um, what was that?" said Benji, quickly flipping through security feeds, trying to find who had burned one of the IMF agents.
"I can't see where it came from," said Brandt, moving with purpose to get a better angle.
Ethan gave his partner a quick glance, Ilsa had gone pale, a look of genuine fear coming over her face. Ethan had seen Ilsa go toe-to-toe against some of the most dangerous people on the planet with a smile on her face and the only thing that kept him from dropping into an aggressive stance to take on their attackers was the vice-like grip that she now had on his forearm.
And, just like that, Ilsa's smile came back, her grip relaxed and she turned to face the unknown assailants. Ethan turned with her, his body tense and ready to strike at anything, and came face to face with an older lady and gentleman, both of whom bearing a striking resemblance to the team's British agent.
"Mom, dad," said Ilsa, disengaging from Ethan to give her parents a quick hug and kiss. "I didn't know you would be here."
"Wait, did she just say 'mom and dad'?" asked Brandt, moving with just a little more purpose while also keeping an eye on Rahm.
"She did!" said Benji a little too excitedly, quickly working through the cameras to see which one offered the best view. "Mr. and Mrs. Faust in the flesh! No offense, Ilsa, but I was not unconvinced you hadn't been developed in a super-secret laboratory where MI6 developed super spies."
"Oh, we weren't supposed to be, our meetings were canceled at the last minute," explained Ilsa's mother.
"Lucky for us, your mother and I hadn't given away our tickets yet," said Ilsa's father. "We always love to come, reminds us of when you had dreams of becoming a jockey."
"Not a jockey, dad," said Ilsa, flushing a bit at how much Ethan appeared to be enjoying the drastic turn the operation had now taken.
"Oh, we're just teasing dear," said Ilsa's mother, a warm maternal smile on her face, before turning to Ethan. "Ilsa used to compete in dressage, you see, Mr..."
At the prompt, Ethan quickly extended his hand, giving Ilsa's parents a firm shake, "Hunt, Ethan Hunt."
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hunt, I'm Elizabeth," said Ilsa's mother. "And this is Philip."
"The pleasure is all mine," said Ethan.
"Ethan is my partner," explained Ilsa. "He actually didn't know I used to ride."
"She would've made the Olympic team, too, had she not decided to pursue business," said her father, taking on the airs of a father who would've been proud of his daughter regardless of what she achieved but who had gone on to achieve plenty.
"So, partner, Mr. Hunt?" Ilsa's mother asked, gently interrogating the man whose arm Ilsa still held on to. "Partner at the firm or..?"
"Oh god," breathed Ilsa, her cheeks turning a touch more crimson than they already had been. "Romantic partner, mom. Now, please..."
"Luther, that cafe you're at doesn't happen to have any popcorn, does it?" asked Benji.
"Unfortunately not," replied Luther, laughing to himself. "I'm just sad I can't witness this go down."
"Oh really?" began Philip his eyebrows shooting up in pleasant surprise. "You must be quite the man, Mr. Hunt-"
"Please, it's Ethan," interjected the IMF agent.
"Oh, well Ethan, it's been a long time since our Ilsa has ever referred to someone as her partner," said Philip.
"Not that we haven't tried to introduce her to several of our friends' eligible children," continued Elizabeth. "She can be a little too strong-willed for her own good, sometimes."
"Not that that's a bad thing," said Philip. "Ilsa knows what she wants and we wouldn't have it any other way."
"Oh, believe me, I know," said Ethan, the three of them sharing a laugh while Ilsa looked for exits.
"Well, before I die of embarrassment, I'm going to get us a drink," said Ilsa, leaning into Ethan for a quick peck on his cheek while taking the syringe from his pocket. "What will it be honey?"
"I'll take a Brynn Collins," smiled Ethan, who turned back towards Philip and Elizabeth as his partner walked towards the bar and their mark, Rahm.
"Alright Brandt, Ilsa has the syringe and she's moving towards Rahm now," said Benji, watching everything on his monitor.
"On it," said Brandt, putting on his game face as he gently doffed his top hat and move to intercept Rahm.
The actual drugging went off without a hitch. Rahm barely even noticed the slight prick in his thigh, completely distracted by the gorgeous woman with the auburn hair brushing past him on her way to the bar. Before she had even finished ordering her's and Ethan's drinks, Rahm's speech was slurring.
"We always knew that she was going to succeed in whatever she did, but to be a VP in the entire European section of the firm at her age," began Elizabeth, beaming with motherly pride. "She's first-in-line to take over when her boss retires, as well."
MI6, of course, went to great effort to provide covers for their agents and an executive at a multi-national financial firm had a built-in excuse to travel around the world. She was still using her MI6-provided cover until her transfer to the IMF was formalized, though. Then Ilsa would be a highly successful financial executive at one of IMF's many shell companies.
"And what is it that you do, Ethan?" asked Philip.
"I run a consulting firm out of London," said Ethan, providing his own cover, one that he had had for years with the IMF. "We do business worldwide, but one of the perks of being the man in charge is that I get to delegate the jobs I don't want and take the ones I do."
"Has Ethan ever turned down a job," asked Luther as he took a sip from his coffee.
"Not that I know of," replied Benji. "Get ready for extraction."
"Is that so," asked Elizabeth. Before she could continue her line of questioning, however, a commotion erupted over at the bar. An apparently drunk Rahm had taken a go at Ilsa, who had promptly slapped him, much to the consternation of the race-goers around them.
When Rahm didn't take the hint, Ilsa had no qualms decking him with one punch, which only served to rile up more of the bar's patrons.
"I heard that from here," Luther almost shouted, trying his hardest to contain his laughter.
"Oh, my heavens," started Elizabeth, a mixture of pride and concern coming over her.
"I wouldn't worry about your daughter," said Ethan. "She takes Krav Maga classes three times a week, she can handle herself."
"Of course she does," stated Philip, unsurprised that his daughter, who ostensibly ran a department covering an entire continent, would find the time to learn a deadly martial art.
The actual number of times she practiced was at least once a day, the bruises covering Ethan's body bearing witness to their numerous sparring sessions, but he felt that a little discretion was necessary at the moment.
Off at the bar, Brandt was settling everyone down, ensuring those around them that his good friend, Rahm, had simply had one too many cocktails and that he would be taking him out for some fresh air. Ilsa had retrieved her drinks and made her way back to the group, only mildly steamed.
"Is it about time to leave, honey?" asked Ethan, giving his partner an out from the situation if she wanted it.
"No need, Ethan," exclaimed Benji. "Brandt and Luther already have the package headed for the van, we've got it from here!"
"Oh Ilsa, please, join us," said Philip.
"Yes, we'd love to hear more about what you've been up to and get to know Ethan better," finished Elizabeth.
Ethan cocked an eyebrow at Ilsa, leaving the ball in her court. Ilsa replied by handing Ethan his drink and slipping her arm into his again, smiling. It would be good to catch up with her parents and she had warmed quickly to the idea of her parents meeting Ethan.
"I think we can stay a bit," said Ilsa, gently resting her head on Ethan's shoulder.