Author's Note: Ta da! Another update! In this chapter, you get a tiny bit of background on who Jesse is and how he became an agent. I'm trying oh so hard to make this story very exciting and at the same time very well planned. It's hard to go off from a movie and make up your own stuff when you're trying to still keep a certain plot in tact. I don't know if I'm making much sense but I hope you can see what I'm trying to get at here. Next chap, you'll meet a certain geeky someone that we all love aaaaaaand maybe some more of Beca? I don't know? Do you want that? Please read and review and let me know how I'm doing and if you've got any ideas for the next couple of chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect or Mission Impossible.

CHAPTER THREE

LONDON, ENGLAND : 1 hour later

Jesse made it to a phone booth a couple miles away from the dark building he was held hostage in. Dialing the emergency number every agent from FO should know, he was directed to Donald's phone.

"This is Faison." Agent Donald was still sitting outside the courtroom, waiting for Chief Allen to finish his business with the rest of the panel.

"Go secure." With the stern sound of Jesse's voice, Donald encrypts the phone call and stands to move farther away from the courtroom doors.

"Go."

"London is compromised. I repeat, London is compromised. Agent placed is down, request immediate extraction."

"What happened, Jesse? Who breached London? Do you have anything to go on?" Jesse sighs and looks around the telephone booth. No one followed him, no one was around.

"A face. Sort of. He wanted something. Not information. He could've killed me, but he didn't."

"Okay, what do you think it means?"

"The Synleague is real, Donald. They know who we are, how we operate. I think I know why they've been so hard to find. Just focus operations on gathering any available intel regarding former covert operatives. It doesn't matter what country or agency, just as long as they're dead or presumed dead. Start with Bruce Vikter. He's also known as the 'bone doctor.'"

"I can't do that," Donald grimaces.

"What?" Jesse's brows furrowed. Not only was he confused, but he's starting to feel the events that laid out just over an hour ago. His ribs were aching from the brutal punches Vikter sent his way. "What're you talking about?"

Agent Donald Faison turned to see Chief Allen still speaking to a few of the Directors, "The Committee has shut us down. Operations are to be handed over to the CIA. There is no more FO. I've been ordered to bring everyone in," Jesse closed his eyes. He did not need this right now. "Jesse-"

"I understand-"

"Jes-"

"I understand, Don. We didn't have this conversation. I disappeared in London. You don't know where I am… if I'm dead or alive."

Damnit. Donald thought to himself. The best agent in the field is forced to go under and he can't do anything about it without the CIA breathing down his neck. This op has to go on, whether it be in front of the CIA or not. "This man you saw, can you find him?"

There was a pause in his response. Donald was almost convinced Jesse had left until he heard his faint voice, "I won't stop until I do."

Donald turns around to see Chief Allen approaching, "This may very well be our last mission, Jesse. Make it count." And with that, Agent Donald hung up on his longtime friend and accomplice.

"Don?" Jesse called out and was responded with the dial tone, alerting him of the dropped call. He was all alone now… in the middle of the streets of London. No backup, no team, no equipment.

WASHINGTON, DC

"Since we're going to be working together, I want you to choose your next words very carefully," Chief Allen stood tall in front of Donald, "Where is Swanson?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to me, Donald."

"I have no way of contacting him. He's deep cover. Last I heard, he's tracking The Synleague." Donald was always good with his charm but Chief Allen was having none of it.

"Let's cut the bull." Bumper Allen stepped closer to the young man, with a mere couple of inches standing in between them. "You know who we are. You know what we're capable of. How come the CIA has never discovered any actual intel regarding this uh, Synleague?"

"What are you implying?" Donald was much taller than Chief Allen but he knew his shoes added a good two or three inches to his height. That's probably the reason why the man feels so high and mighty. Take off his shoes and he'll feel as irrelevant as ever. With those shoes, Chief Allen was face to face with Donald. Resulting in an intimidating stare off game.

"I'm not implying. Stating. Leveling an accusation, actually. Swanson is both arsonist and fireman at the same time. I believe that The Synleague is a figment of his imagination, created to justify the FO's existence. I'm going to find him, Faison. And when I do, he will be called upon to answer for every wanted active mayhem he's responsible for," Donald, although a well trained agent, was now worried for his friend. You can tell in his facial expression as the Chief started to turn around, "Welcome to the CIA." Before he turned the corner, Donald spoke up,

"You'll never find him."

"Set your watch, Donald. Jesse Swanson is living his last day as a free man.

HAVANA, CUBA : 6 months later

Doing his best keeping his head down and conversations shorter, Jesse Swanson lived undercover for months. He's not new to this game, however, he's new to the silence. The silence that alerts him that his agency is no longer there. Well, it's still there, except in Langley, under the orders of a very annoying and egotistical man. In his tiny, under the radar apartment, Jesse is just about done with his morning workout. A hundred pull ups- done, a hundred sit ups- done, a hundred push ups- done. His focus was sharper than ever. He knew what today was. He got a very vague but encrypted message from Donald. He was prepared- hell, more than prepared. As he waited for time to pass by, Jesse decided to do an extra set of push ups, resulting in his thoughts, drifting back to his first day in training.

He was nineteen, working at his Uncle's auto shop. Jesse doesn't remember much of his childhood, all he knew was that he was bounced from foster home to foster home until they finally found a next of kin- his Uncle Lenny.

His Uncle didn't know much about him, but he knew of his reckless father, Lenny's brother. It wasn't a surprise to him that Jesse would be abandoned. His father never held a stable job or a stable relationship. His mother died giving birth to him and only after six months of being under his father's care, he was abandoned in front of a church, thus, starting his life as an orphan.

At the age of fifteen, they were able to track down his Uncle Lenny, although reluctant to take him in, he couldn't say no to family. He took Jesse under his wing, showing him the ropes. He went to high school, but kept to himself most of the time. He was an attractive young man. Girls would no doubt be crushing over him, but his mysterious and brooding aura kept them at arms length.

His days were spent in his Uncle's auto shop, breaking and fixing cars. If you gave Jesse a broken car, he can tell you what's wrong with it in just a minute of examination. Not only was he good at fixing them, he was damn good at driving them. Their small house was nearby an old race track and Jesse would test out the different cars that were sent to them to be fixed.

It was just a normal day of testing out a car when Jesse saw a black Sedan pull in beside the racetrack. A man stepped out of the driver's seat, wearing a suit and a pair of very black shades. He walked to open the rear door and out came an elderly looking man, clad in the same pair of shades but his jacket wasn't in sight and his white sleeves were rolled up. It was a hot summer day in Cincinnati and Jesse wondered what in the world these men were doing out in the middle of nowhere, in their nice car, at an abandoned race track. Pretending to mind his own business, Jesse opened the hood of the car he was testing when he noticed the elderly man walking towards him.

"Jesse? Jesse Swanson?" At the sound of his name, Jesse grabbed the towel by the engine of the car and wiped his hands.

"Yes, can I help you?" Jesse's hand shot up to his forehead, to shield his eyes from the rays of the sun. He squinted at the old man and he noticed the man wasn't even looking at him, but instead at the car.

"That's a nice car you've got there," the old man mentioned. Confused still at this encounter, Jesse maintained his manners.

"Thanks, but it's not mine. I just fix them."

"Ah, yes, that I've heard. You're very good with cars."

"Yes, sir."

"My name's John Smith. I run an important business that I would like you to consider joining."

His trip down memory lane was disrupted when the alarm on his watch went off. It's time.

LANGLEY, VA

"Alright, everybody. Heads up. This is it," Chief Allen walked the floors of headquarters and made his way to the computer panel. The entire team looked at the gigantic screen in front of them, showcasing an off base team, tasked to take down Jesse Swanson.

"Alpha team prep. Standing by." At the statement of the team leader's status, Chief Allen was ready to take this son of a bitch down and bring him in.

"Execute," he ordered.

"Langley Op, We are a go." Body cameras gave HQ the visuals that Donald was more than thankful for. If they were only getting audio updates, he may be on the edge of his seat if he was sitting on one. Chief Allen stood with his eyes focused on the screen, watching the team assemble and silently surround Jesse's building. The team split up to have the rest gather around Jesse's apartment room door. Their mic could pick up the sounds of Jesse, moving around his apartment. Donald figured the guy was working out. He gulped. He was sure that message stated everything he needed to know. He told him to vacate, why was he still there? The team got ready to bang the door down. They waited for their leader to signal a go and bursted through the door. At this point, Donald wasn't breathing.

Jesse got up to grab a bottle of water. He glanced at the small computer screen he bought in a little store in Paris, and saw that the screen showed a group of men, armed and dangerous in the empty room he set up the cameras in.

"Langley, there's nobody here." Jesse turned up the volume on the computer and chuckled to himself.

Chief Allen turned around just in time for Donald to hide his relieved face. "You said he was in Cuba!" Donald raised his hands in surrender,

"Those were the coordinates the team picked up from his phone call. You can't blame me. I was simply following protocol." Donald caught a glimpse of something on the screen when the man that had a body camera made a 360 in the room. He walked to the computer panel to sound an order, "Langley Op, face the north wall."

The man with the camera stopped, facing north. On the wall was a neatly designed and well thought out board. Pictures of former operatives were lined on the wall, as well as a map with pinned news articles. There was a portrait drawn by Jesse, left on the table against the wall. It was a rough draft but Donald knew it was who Jesse was after. There wasn't much. The entire face was covered but he figured he could do some digging even just with the shape of a head and certain set of eyes to go on.

PARIS, FRANCE

Jesse strolled the streets of Paris. He can freely do so, now that he knows the CIA wasn't hot on his trails. In six months, he'd grown a full on beard, dressed like a Parisian and frequented a small cafe not too far from his apartment. The young woman who worked there seemed to have had a crush on Jesse and he figured he'd spend his last few days in Paris, teasing her with his frequent visits. He had an op lined up in a few days and he was soaking up as much Paris as he could. Grabbing the daily newspaper, he sat at a table outside of the cafe while the young woman came out with his usual order.

"Merci," He smiled at her and she smiled back, not knowing what to say and stumbled back into the cafe. He shook his head and opened up the newspaper. Perusing through the different articles while sipping on his coffee, Jesse somehow thought back to that tiny woman. He thought of her everyday, he'd have to admit. There were numerous times he was going to ask the young woman at the cafe out on a date but his mind always traveled back to the woman in London. But he didn't have much to go by. He couldn't simply look her up, he didn't know her name. He knew, however, that she was British and that she had some serious fight skills. He also knew she was really small and extremely beautiful. He couldn't get her out of his head. Not only did the need and want to know who she was kept gnawing at him, he wanted to know why she had helped him and what on earth she was doing there in the first place. He would ask Donald for some help but their communication had been very limited due to the CIA's target on his back. There was, however, one person that Jesse knew he could contact and figured while he's at it, he'd need this person for his next op.

Author's Note: Ok, I'm here to clear some things up. Agent Donald Faison is Treblemaker Donald, not Tonehanger Donald, lol at Nora. Also, yes, Beca is British in this story. Now that's kindof an unusual idea but... I admit, a hot one. Sorry not sorry, my gay is showing. Also, if anyone got confused, the Langley Op team was in Cuba after they were given coordinates of a phone call from Jesse. However, of course, Mr. Swanson is super smart and he redirected his actual coordinates (Paris, France) to Cuba so that CIA would get off his ass and he can continue his solo op to find out who that mysterious guy was that trapped him in the record store. Hope your questions were answered. Other than that, kindly review please and let me know what's going through your heads. ALSO, if you were wondering, college is going alright. So far, so good. I can't believe I'm now a college student. I'm literally a fetus face and it's weird to be walking around campus amongst all these other college students. It's just weird. Also, another update, I've made no friends whatsoever, so that's cool. All my friends that are going to the same college are going to a different campus, Center Campus to be exact which is a couple miles away from South Campus which is where I attend. Thus, making me a loner while all my other friends are reunited over there. Ok, I'm gonna stop rambling. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Au revoir.

P.S. I made a cover image for this story. Check out my bio and see if the link can take you there. If not, then I'll be sad because I worked hard on the cover. Jesse/Skylar looks so hot. Ugh.