Authors note: Thanks everyone for the amazing reviews. I'm trying to keep you updated on a regular basis, but because of the holidays, I can't manage it daily. So thanks for your patience, too. If you'd rather wait it out until the full thing is up, this story has a total of ten chapters.
Chapter seven
Ethan woke up on cold concrete floor, feeling wet. Looking down he realized water was dripping from his hair and suspected that that was what had woken him. His hands were tied by the wrists behind his back and before he could orient himself, someone roughly dragged him up by the shackles from behind, forcing him into a kneeling position.
Whatever residual tiredness might have lingered in his brain faded when he heard the sharp click of a gun being loaded right next to his ear. "Funny, I had a feeling I'd be seeing you here, Agent Hunt," a female voice said from behind. He tried to turn his head and look but didn't get very far before his temple connected with something hard and cold that he suspected to be a gun barrel.
Since he couldn't turn around, he looked up. It was a large brick-walled room, tire marks on the floor showing it had probably been used as a garage at some point. Across from him, about two meters away, his team was lined up.
On the left, Benji was clutching one hand to his chest with the other, while a tall man had one arm in a tight grip around his shoulders and a knife to his throat. Dunn was trying to look brave, but pain was clearly visible on his face.
In the middle was Brandt, his hands bound behind his back. The woman standing next to him who had one arm lodged under his upper arm, forcing him into a painful looking half hunched over position. Her other hand was holding a gun pointed at his neck.
And on the right there was Luther. He was being held up by a man and a woman who had grabbed him by the upper arms, the man was pointing a gun at his head. His face was swelling up in several places and a trickle of blood was running over his chin from a split lip.
"I don't think you remember me," the voice continued and Ethan recognized it as belonging to de la Vega. "I was in the training class back when you were teaching, but I don't expect you to remember that. Probably you don't remember Lindsey Farris either."
At the mention of the name Ethan flinched. He hadn't thought of her much lately, but that night in Berlin six years ago was forever etched into his memory in painful detail.
"Lindsey was my girlfriend," de la Vega hissed. "I loved her! And you sent her into the field just so she could die there. You killed her!"
"Don't listen to her!" Luther shouted. "That's not -"
He was interrupted by the fist of the woman who was holding him smacking into his jaw. The sound echoed through the room.
Logically Ethan knew that Luther was right. If anyone was to blame it was Musgrave. But he couldn't help feeling guilty, wondering for the thousandth time if he could have saved her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. His voice sounded alien to him. "I didn't know."
De la Vega huffed in his ear. "I'm not surprised. Maybe you would have known if you would have any interest in the people around you," she said. "Maybe then you would also care for them more and not just use them as disposable pawns in your game."
"I did care for Lindsey," Ethan replied. His mouth felt dry. It was true, he had loved her like a little sister. But he couldn't allow himself to get lost in that right now. De la Vega was building up to something, and their general situation didn't look good. "I didn't want her to die."
"You know, she was really fond of you, too. Ethan Hunt, the great hero of the IMF. I even believed it, too, back then. You should have seen her, she was so proud when she got her first mission. And then you brought her back in a bag," she answered. "I even believe you that you didn't want her to die, but that doesn't make it any less your fault. Because you and the IMF, you just don't care who dies. And it's time someone makes you all pay."
Ethan felt his stomach knot. "That's not true."
De la Vega ignored him. "But I want to see how good you really are, so I'm going to give you a chance. Everyone who gets out of this room alive is free to go," she explained. "You should know that my assistants are instructed to kill once you make a move. So if you want to save your friends," she said the word with a tonality that implied quotation marks, "you better be fast."
It was impossible, Ethan realized. Even if he could knock out de la Vega and get her gun, his hands were still tied. Once he made a move, they would be dead. And even if he somehow could reach one of them in time, he would never be able to save them all. "They don't have anything to do with this," he argued. "It's me you want. Let them go."
"Nice try," de la Vega said dryly. "But if you don't even want to try, I can just kill them all and let you watch."
She dropped his cuffed hands, pushing him forward and Ethan fell hard onto his shoulder. With a hot sting, his injured ribcage protested the abuse. He took a sharp breath and tried to maneuver himself into an upright position. His cuffed hands were little help and his foot slipped on what felt like a metal grid.
Once he was steady on his knees, he looked up and surveyed the room. The walls and floor were bare except for the metal grids set into the concrete every few meters, nothing there to use. Behind the others, he could see the garage doors, but they wouldn't help if he couldn't get there.
He tested the cuffs. They held firm and barely allowed him three inches of leeway. But something clattered against it, something metallic. The bracelet. He'd have to keep her talking a little longer.
"We tried to save her," he said looking up.
Benji was scared. Ethan could see it in his eyes, although the rest of his face was a perfect cold mask. His eyes widened when their gaze met.
"It was Musgrave who set her up."
Brandt gave him a tiny nod, but the resignation in his eyes barely changed.
Luther didn't look up. Ethan couldn't even tell if he was conscious. It just would have to work.
"And Musgrave is conveniently dead," de la Vega sighed.
Ethan felt for the grid below his knee. The spacing was tight, but it would be broad enough. He tucked his feet under his chest. His muscles tensed like a loaded spring.
Feeling for the magnetic clasp, Ethan opened the bracelet. A row of small black pearls fell off the string and through the space in the grid into the underground waterways. Ethan jumped up. Taking a simultaneous step backwards connected his skull with de la Vega's sternum.
At the same time, there was a loud explosive sound. Thick smoke shot up through the sewage grids and quickly enveloped the room.
He managed to grasp one of de la Vega's hands and catapulted her over his shoulder. Quickly he jumped over his bound hands to bring them to the front while she rolled over and took aim. Before she could fire, he seized her gun and kicked at her head. When she let go, he stumbled backwards.
Once he had his balance back, he looked around. The smoke had filled up the room entirely, taking away his orientation. He could barely see his own hands in front of him, de la Vega was covered entirely.
Then two gunshots sounded to his right in close succession.
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Benji knew to brace himself for something although he wasn't sure what. When nothing happened immediately, he was getting increasingly nervous. Ethan obviously had a plan, but that wasn't always a good thing.
The knife edge scraped against his skin like a razor blade. He had made very close contact with this kind of situation only a couple of months before, and it was not an experience he wanted to repeat. But there was not much he could do, his adversary had longer arms than him and had him in a vicelike grip. He was starting to sweat.
Then there suddenly was an explosive noise below them and momentarily they were enveloped in white smoke. Only for an instant, his captor loosened his grip in surprise, but the agent had been ready for the past six seconds. His uninjured right hand shot up and he managed to jam it in between the knife and his neck until he got hold of the man's wrist. Tripping him with one foot, he threw the goon onto his side and then, using the same foot, twisted his neck beyond the limits it was designed for with a strong kick.
His captor had landed right next to one of the sewage grids and when he bent down he inhaled a lungful of smoke. Coughing and cursing he retrieved the knife and tried to find some sense of orientation when the gunshots echoing from beyond the white wall made him flinch. He cursed some more, this time about his own skittishness and carefully moved in the direction it had come from. Despite his caution, he ran straight into someone else.
Brandt turned around to him sharply, but let out a short sigh when he recognized the other agent. His scraped knuckles were clasping the gun he had retrieved from his own adversary, who was now lying on the floor with a bullet through her chin.
They stepped forward together as the smoke started dissipating. A moment later they were joined by Ethan who was obviously relieved to see them. When they turned back they could see shadows moving behind the curtain of smoke still lingering. There was a sound of metal scraping over the floor and another gunshot, then one of the figures fell.
"Luther!" Ethan shouted, darting forward although he couldn't see where he was going. The others followed.
"I'm fine," Luther replied, although when he bent down to pick up the gun of his second adversary, his movements were stiff and he spoke with a slight lisp from his swollen lip. "Don't worry about me."
There was a moment of relieved silence, then Benji coughed again.
"Did you use all of them?" he asked in a high-pitched voice. "Are you crazy?"
Ethan only gave him a tired smile. "Let's get out of here."