Ch. 11: Suicide Mission

It was a quiet night outside the Seattle compound. A low-key series of buildings lining the shore. It had a modest lot filled with black vehicles of varying sizes. The sky, polluted with the lights of the city slowly turned softer with the expanding sliver of light on the horizon. Morning would be approaching in a few hours. A skeleton crew of armed guards roamed the premises and paid little attention to the sound of a motorbike nearing in the distance.

When the roaring of the bike grew louder, a single guard turned his face to the source of the noise, and had no time to react to a bullet piercing through his skull. The remaining guards turned to the biker, who dove from his vehicle with precision and grace, rolling swiftly up onto one knee and firing up at the lookouts. An alarm sounded immediately, and Ethan Hunt waited, armed to the teeth, poised on his knee, raising a rifle.

"Come out and face me, you bastard," he grumbled to himself.

The alarm honked, cutting into the otherwise still night. A door raised and more guards came out. Many began shooting. One called out to them, raising a fist, "It's Hunt! Don't kill him! Kane wants him alive!"

"Good luck with that," Ethan smirked, tossing an unpinned grenade into the door opening. The guards dove from the rolling ball, trying to get away before the blast sent them flying. Ethan ran through the door, rifle trained. Some more guards came to intercept him, but were quickly gunned down.

Turning to head down another corridor, he was intercepted by more soldiers. Ethan popped out and fired, taking down another guard. Suddenly some soldiers tried to come in the way Ethan did, firing at him. He shot back, forcing them to move back for cover. He was surrounded. Leaning around, Ethan fired at the group ahead of him and waited to fire again at the crew behind him. One of the men clipped Ethan in his vest. He jerked into the wall, but returned fire.

He wounded the guard, who fell back towards the group, "He's got a vest!" he warned the other soldiers.

"Vest, vest!" shouted a soldier who seemed most in charge. Suddenly a pair moved forward, training their guns at Ethan's chest. Ethan fired, hitting a soldier, but was hit in the chest again. He let out a groan, unpinning another grenade and throwing it at the back group. Raising his gun, he faced the front group and sprayed. The second hit took the breath out of him, and it was beginning to blur his vision. The grenade blew, causing a distraction Ethan took advantage.

Blinking out the fog, he fired at the front group, hitting another soldier. He took a moment to regain his breath and peeked at the back group. Only a few left. Suddenly a canister rolled across the ground and stopped by Ethan's feet. 'Concussion Grenade' was printed in white paint. Ethan dove to the ground, and the blast went off. His ears rang and his vision doubled and swayed. A nauseating disorientation washed over him. He tried to rise to his feet, but he was swarmed by soldiers, and through he was able to throw in a few uncalculated punches and blocks, they overpowered him. The butt of a rifle was the last thing Ethan saw before everything cut to black.

A time later, Ethan blinked back into consciousness. He was bound to a chair. His armor was stripped of him. He was left in t-shirt and slacks. His hands were tied behind him, but he could tell his watch was missing. Unseen as well, but more disheartening: the dog tag was gone as well. They stripped him of everything but clothes. At a table before him, lay spread all of his equipment and armor. A man, back to Ethan, was fumbling through his things, taking stock. An armed guard stood at the door. The man at the table picked up Ethan's watch and looked closely at it.

"Careful," Ethan told him, "It was a gift from my mother."

The man whipped around, the armed guard stiffened. The table man dropped Ethan's watch on the ground and stomped on it, breaking the glass. Ethan winced.

"Break it, you bought it," Ethan told him. The man walked up to Ethan and backhanded him so hard, he nearly tipped back the chair.

"Lacey, don't waste your time," the armed guard told him.

Ethan looked from Lacey to the other guard, "Does that make you Cagney?"

The guard walked up and socked Ethan in the gut.

"Just a joke, fellas," Ethan coughed out.

Lacey put a hand on the guard's shoulder, urging him to return to his post by the door. Lacey smirked down at Ethan, "You're not worth the effort. Kane has so much in store for you."

"Oh, I bet," Ethan snorted, "Bit cowardly to take so long to show his face. We could have had his death over and done with by now if he didn't have such a flair for the dramatics."

Lacey let out a laugh, shaking his head in disgust at Ethan, "Just you wait."

Lacey returned to the table, going over his things. He picked up the dog tag, looking it over. He turned back to Ethan, "What's this?"

"Also from my mother," Ethan replied casually.

Lacey punched Ethan in the jaw, his vision going white momentarily with the pain. The door guard shot Lacey a look. Lacey just shrugged, "May not be worth the effort, but it's still fun." He looked back to Ethan, "I'm going to ask you again, what is it?"

He dangled the dog tag in front of Ethan's nose. He shook his head, "It's just a tag."

Lacey looked at it closely. His eyes squinted as he turned it to read tiny print along the edge, "Made in...Scotland…"

Ethan let out a sad laugh.

Lacey and the guard's eyes snapped to Ethan. "Something funny?" the guard snapped.

"Inside joke."

"Yeah? This thing mean a lot to you?"

"Why? So you can smash that too?"

Lacey got in Ethan's face, staring into his eyes. The man threw the tag to the ground, the scrape of metal on the floor. Ethan willed himself to not look at the tag. It was all he had left of Benji. Lacey watched Ethan close, "Yeah...you wouldn't have it on otherwise."

Suddenly there was a bang at the door. Lacey hesitated, staring Ethan down. He walked to the door and opened it, the guard still focused on Ethan. When the door was opened, Rand was waiting on the other side. Upon his eyes hitting the IMF agent, he grinned widely. "Oh, hey, Ethan!" he called.

He entered the room, taking smug strides up to Ethan, then crouched down to be eye-level, "What an interesting change we seem to have here. Looks like I'm the one with all the power now."

"Looks can be deceiving," Ethan told him, cocking his head to the side.

Rand smirked, "Yes, that they can."

His eyes flicked down to the tag. He picked it up carefully, running it over with his fingers. His thumb brushed the hidden button in the center. He thought nothing of the button, but turned the tag over in his hand.

"He had it on him when he came in here," Lacey called from the table.

Rand's eyes flitted over the tag and came across the tiny print on the edge. He turned it once more, scanning the simple detailing on the planes, "No name on it, not like a military tag."

"Must be a misprint," Ethan offered.

Rand glanced back at the agent, "Yeah, must be." He stood up, staring down pitifully at Ethan. "I'd feel bad for you if you weren't such a smug prick."

He turned to head to the door, tag still in hand.

"Don't worry," Ethan told him, turning his head to watch the man go.

Rand stopped and looked back.

"I feel a little bad for all the terrible things I'm going to do to you once I get free," Ethan promised.

Rand snorted, "I bet. Get him ready."

He left the room, the door slamming behind him.

Lacey smirked at Ethan again. "I'm sure Kane won't mind us getting a few hits in before he comes to see ya."

Ethan shrugged, "If it makes you feel less inadequate, please help yourself."

When the pair had finished, Ethan was strung up in chains hanging from the ceiling. He was battered and bloody, some blood dripping from his face in little dots on the ground. His feet were slack as he hung, the weight of his body searing pain into his wrists. He was hurting, but not as bad as he looked. If he looked wounded and weak, then he could make his move.

Lacey spit on him before turning to leave. He snapped the lights off and he and the guard slammed the door behind them. Ethan hung limply in the dark, waiting for the right chance. He was going to get to Benji if it killed him. He just had to be patient, like Kane. Revenge is patience.