TW: mentions of sexual assault.
Chapter 12: Tigress
Ella:
John Crawley was not happy. In fact, he was fuming so much that his usually robotically smooth hair was sticking up. I would have laughed if the man wasn't half a second from deporting me right back to America.
When he received the phone call at 3 in the morning to come and pick Alex and me up from the Brecon Beacons-immediately-he had not spoken a single word to us. In fact, the man had driven the full four-hour drive back to London without so much as opening his mouth.
I'm not saying we didn't slightly overreact, but any cabins we may or may not have set fire to deserved it if you want my unbiased opinion.
While we waited for Mrs. Jones to yell at us for literally burning the bridge between MI6 and the SAS, I mentally braced myself and recounted the events of the night before.
As absurd as it may sound, there is something comforting about the mush we are served for dinner. The poor quality of military camp food is the one consistency in this dynamic and ever-changing world. I sit next to Alex and we both just sit in silence, dipping hard bread rations into porridge and skillfully avoiding the dark grey lumps drowned in stinky gravy that the Beacons tried to pass off as meat. Of course, I am very in-tune with my surroundings, taking in everything I can. Names. Faces. Conversations. Mealtime, it seems, is the one time for everyone across their assigned units to just socialize, and the SAS soldiers are taking full advantage of it. I'm trying to take it all in, but my focus is interrupted by a large, stocky man who is standing over me.
Alarm bells begin going off in my head, knowing that this can't be good. "Well hello there," he starts, his voice low and scratchy. He speaks with a slight Irish accent.
"Hi," I reply, being polite without engaging him. I try to focus back on my food, but he speaks again, breaking my focus.
"What is your name?"
"Tigress." I keep my responses to one word.
"Well, that's a pretty name."
"Hm." Nobody has ever been this hyper-focused on mush before.
"You look really sexy in that uniform." My eyes bore holes into my mush. Ignore and he'll go away ignore and he'll go away ignore and he'll go-The mystery man's voice gets sharper. "I said you look really sexy." I sense the surrounding noise growing quieter. Everyone is watching us and seeing what's going to happen next. "I don't like it when pretty girls ignore me," he growled.
"And I don't like it when creepy men address me," I shot back. Ignoring him was proving useless.
"Creepy men? Where did you get an idea like that?" I make a move to pick up my spoon and take another bite. Before I can reach the utensil, he grabs my hand and puts it up against his hard penis. At this point, my brain goes right into "Agent 4-6-7 Mode" and before I realize what I'm doing, I'm standing up and using my other arm, I strike him across the face, instantly breaking his nose. Blood flies everywhere and I do my best to dodge it. He let go of my hand as I had struck his nose so I instinctually jump backward, freed. He begins cursing me out, and it's at that point when I realize the entire Mess Hall is staring at us. Mystery Man lets out a yell and charges at me. He probably would have hit me, too, if Alex hadn't grabbed me back towards the table, out of harm's way. Mystery man stumbles over a chair leg and goes sprawling across the floor. Before he can get up, I grab Alex's hand and the two of us start sprinting out of the mess hall. Neither of us wants more confrontation, and the best solution is to just book it.
We sprint for about two minutes until we're sure nobody is following us. I am acutely aware that I am still holding his hand, but it feels safe and I am not letting go.
"You okay, Ella? I'm sorry I didn't intervene sooner. I didn't realize-"
"Don't apologize. You came through when I needed it. And I'm okay."
"You don't have to say so if you're not."
I smile, albeit slightly. "I will be. Don't worry about me." We walk the rest of the way to my cabin in silence, still hand in hand. When we get to the door, he asks if I want him to come inside. "Alex, I'm stuck somewhere between never wanting to see a man again and not wanting to be alone either." Alex chews his lip thoughtfully, unsure of what he is supposed to do. "Here," I begin, compromising with myself, "I want to take a shower to just get today's events off of me. But after that, want to just sit on the porch with me? Clearing my head sounds pretty good, right about now."
Alex nods but is slow to let go of my hand. "You sure you'll be alright? I mean-last time you took a shower-" Alex trails off.
"I'll be fine," I assure him. I open the door of my cabin, leaving him on the porch. Once inside, I hastily unbraid my hair and strip out of my uniform. I shower as quickly as I can, being mindful to get any and all of the guy's nose blood out of my hair. A few minutes later, my hair is dried and put in two buns on top of my head. I grab another uniform and get dressed. It's still huge on me. You'd think that if the British Secret Service kept recruiting kids, they'd at least invest in smaller uniforms...
I walk back outside and lock the cabin behind me. Alex stands up from his perch on the dilapidated, railing-less wooden porch. "All good?"
"Good enough," I shrug, sitting down. Alex does the same. We both know that it's not secure enough to talk about anything important here, so we just sit across from each other on the porch in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company. It's actually quite nice.
Or, it was until we heard footsteps approaching. I tense up when I realize they're from the man from earlier who started the incident in the mess hall. Thankfully, Alex stands up to take control of the situation, because I'm still a bit shaken up from earlier. "Can I help you?" he growls.
"I just want the bitch who broke my nose." He is now close enough to us that I can see white tape holding his nose back in place and a spot of dried blood under his left nostril. I can tell that I really did a number on his face-even with the tape, his nose is still a bit slanted and already incredibly bruised up. I tense up. There is no reality in which this ends well.
I speak up. "Please, just go away. Fighting us is not going to end well." My icy voice could freeze over an ocean. The man visibly shudders and I almost want to laugh.
Alex clearly picks up on this too. His voice is cold and emotionless. "You're scared, just go home and sleep it off, man." He clearly considers it. However, his hurt pride from getting his ass kicked by a young woman clearly won over logic and reason. He takes one careful step towards us before darting forward and attempting to grab me. I somersault off the porch smoothly to escape him. Alex quickly puts himself between my attacker and me. "You're not going to touch her." His tone doesn't leave room for questions.
"C'mon, man, don't get involved. This has nothing to do with you," The attacker snarls.
"I think that it does," Alex responded, slowly.
I know that this is not going to end well. I don't want to get into another fight. I'm tired and my head hurts and I honestly just want to go to bed. Luckily, fighting isn't the only thing a spy is trained to do. "Cub is my husband. Of course it's his business if someone harasses his wife," I lie through my teeth. Technically. There are some legal documents that say "we're" married, though I don't exactly have access to them yet, but I digress.
"Husband? What are you, 16?"
"So I'm too young to be married but old enough to get sexually harassed?" I challenge him. Looking dumbfounded, he pauses for a second before attempting to charge at me again. Luckily for me, Alex delivers a swift blow to his temple, rendering him unconscious. "Thank you, my loving husband. Who says chivalry is dead," I say dramatically.
"Anytime, Honey," Alex says, going along with my bit, "So, what do you want to do with him?"
"I don't want to torture him. However, I also don't not want to torture him," I say slyly.
"Ella!" Alex exclaims, clearly forgetting the 'no names' rule.
"Kidding, kidding. We should do something though." I go over to his body. He is still passed out cold. He doesn't have much on his person except a lighter which resides in a little pouch attached to his belt. My eyes gleam. "Fire is always fun."
"Fire is always fun," Alex chuckles, a smirk rapidly forming on his face. I feel like being a least a little bit pyro is a prerequisite for being a spy. Who doesn't love setting things ablaze? Still kneeling down at his body, I feel around his next for his dog tag necklace. One thing I noticed in the mess hall, is that every SAS soldier, except for Alex and I, wore a dog tag with a single letter on it, denoting which unit they belong to. I flip his necklace over and am greeted with a large "B."
"How does burning down the B-Unit cabin sound to you?"
"There's no other way I'd rather spend a Friday night," Alex smiles at me. Since I am already on the ground next to my attacker, I quickly tie his bootlaces together so he'll have a difficult and disorienting time trying to get up. I have a strong urge to maim him even further, and I think that Alex realizes this because he quickly offers to help me up. "C'mon, I'll lead the way to B-Unit's cabin.
Alex and I jog the one mile to B-Unit's cabin. Both of us know that when you're about to commit arson, especially to government property, it's best to do it quickly. Once we get to the cabin, I peek into the window. Luckily, no one was actually in the cabin. It's not like the others did anything wrong anyways. Alex and I broke into the cabin and proceeded to set all four cots on fire. We assumed that would be enough to, at the very least, cause a great deal of damage. We high-five on the way out and start sprinting away. It is only then that we realize that we have no real plan. However, just two minutes later we hear sirens going off. Alex and I duck into the forest to our left and just keep running. I have noticed the cameras almost everywhere throughout the camp, so it's not going to take very long for anyone to figure out what happened.
We run in silence for about six more minutes, the only noise is our heavy breathing, the rustling of leaves and twigs as our feet come into contact with them, and the occasional hoot of an owl. Then suddenly, there's a blindingly bright beam of light coming from the sky a bit to our left. I look up and realize it's a helicopter that is most definitely looking for us. Alex and I veer right to run in the opposite direction of the helicopter. However, this hardly works out for us, as the helicopter turns with us. It must have some sort of heat tracking mechanism, and the two of us sweating and sprinting would certainly work up a heat signature. There's a small clearing up ahead and the helicopter lands swiftly. Two men, including the Sergeant we had had the absolute pleasure of meeting earlier this afternoon, jump out.
"Arson, Cub, really?" The Sergeant growls, his voice like hardened steel.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sir," Alex counters. His voice is honestly believable.
The Sergeant sighs, clearly annoyed. "One of the men from B-Unit is still missing!" The Sergeant exclaims.
"Oh, he's knocked out outside of my cabin," I add helpfully. The Sergeant is about to snap. "Whoever burned B-Unit's cabin down, and I'm not saying it was us, probably had a good reason and they definitely checked the cabin first for people before they set it ablaze." The Sergeant considers this for about half a second before pulling out a gun and firing twice.
I wake up sometime later in a dark room. My hands and feet are duct-taped to a chair. The room is dark and windowless. A single lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, illuminating the singular chair in the room. I'm groggy and the dart that the Sergeant shot us with was most certainly some sort of tranquilizer drug. I can't even be upset about it, because I probably would have tranqed us too, if I were him.
I don't waste any time trying to escape. The fools at the SAS left my body completely alone, and I now have pockets full of gadgets. I begin by twisting my hands so I'm able to swipe left on the surface of my flower ring. I'm easily able to use it to slice through the tape on my wrists. It's almost laughably easy, and with all of my CIA training, I've cut myself out of duct tape handcuffs probably fifty times. I jiggle the door handle, and it's unlocked-almost too easy. I step out into the hall and see Alex next to the Sergeant walking out of the door across the hall.
"Oh, hi," I say awkwardly, caught right in the act of sneaking out. Alex chuckles.
The Sergeant sighs. Alex and I seem to have that effect on people. "You're both binned."
I open my mouth to protest but Alex cuts me off before I can say anything. "It's okay, Tigress. I explained what happened and we reviewed the video footage. We did technically destroy government property."
"And I was technically sexually harassed, and I'm the one getting binned?"
"Your boss's decision, not mine," the Sergeant says softly, "Are you okay, Tigress?"
"I will be."
Back to Liverpool Street, I guess. We are sitting alone with him in Jones' office, waiting for her to arrive. The longer I think about what has happened to me, the more upset I get. I knew that we never should have gone to the SAS camp and I had explicitly told Jones before she sent us. It's becoming abundantly clear that she just shipped us off to the Brecon Beacons for two weeks just so she wouldn't have to deal with us. She quite literally sacrificed my safety and well-being just to get rid of us. Both Alex and I have enough military training already and there was absolutely no reason for us to go to that camp. I'm fuming so much I can barely sit still when Jones finally enters the room.
She walks over to her desk slowly and puts a peppermint into her mouth before sitting down. She opens her mouth to speak but I do it first. "Jones I want out. You're putting us on the next plane to America to prepare for this mission. I don't understand how MI6 operates with this little forethought. Seriously, the lack of thinking in this department astounds me."
"Ella I-"
"-am interrupting me. I never said I was finished, Jones. Send me back to America immediately. If I'm being manipulated I would at least like the people doing it to pretend to give a damn about me." I stand up and storm out of the room. Alex is right behind me. I thank him for his support.
"Of course, Ella," his voice grows softer, "I'm always up for yelling at Jones and even more up for protecting my friend."
I smile lightly. "So, so kind of you to befriend your wife," I tease.
"Well, I've always been a 'Get married first, ask questions later' type of guy." We both laugh at this.
Jones comes out a minute later, holding two printed flight tickets. "You're flight's in four hours. Go talk to Smithers. He'll give you luggage and documents." She says nothing else and walks back into her office. Not even a damn apology.
So that's how Alex and I got kicked out of the Brecon Beacons in just over twelve hours and shipped off two America two weeks early. We fly from London to Washington D.C. to meet up with some of my CIA contacts to get further prepared for the mission. Since the mission is on American soil and I am involved, of course my dad wants to see me. We step off the plane and immediately I see my dad.
"I am so, so sorry for this," I mumble to Alex.
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