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The clicking of heels hitting the pavement went unnoticed by the brunnette man stalking his way out of a gym. He visciously pulls his backpack strap up his shoulder, an angry sigh escaping the nostrils of his nose. Mitch Rapp found himself banned from yet another training gym, the third one this week to be exact-- and it was only Tuesday. The gruff man looks both ways before crossing the New York streets, his feet pound against the pavement alerting all those around him of his instability. His brooding aura practically smacking people as he charges down the street towards his apartment.
Unknowingly, a red head quietly follows his path, stealthily maneuvering her way around the busy new yorkers. She watches Mitch as he turns into an alley way, following him as he heads inside the apartment building.
"Eyes on?" A Texas accent questions through the small speaker in the woman's ear.
A slow smirk slides onto her face as the red head casually walks into the apartment building, the door making a buzz after she pins in a code. Her heels make soft thuds as she swerves away from the rickety old elevator and takes two steps at a time. She gracefully makes her way to Mitch's apartment, unlocking the door with a key she pulled from her khaki trent coat. She slips in the room, steam from the shower escaping from underneath the door to her left. Her brown eyes flitter across the walls, markings and photos covering them from head to toe. If she didn't know better, she would think this was the apartment of a madman.
Although, perhaps it was.
The clicking of the safety coming off a gun rings through her ears as the cold metal of the barrel pushes against her hair. A smile makes its away across her face, her brown eyes lighthing up with amusement.
"Well, I would ask if you're happy to see me but I know better," she muses.
"Who are you?" Mitch's raspy voice all but growls, his muscles flexing as his hands grip the pistol tightly.
The girl pouts. "Awh Mitchie, don't tell me you forgot me."
Mitch pushes the gun harder against her head. "Who are you? You've been following me all day."
The girl puts her hands up, her fingers bunching together in a 'we come in peace' symbol. "And you just let me? You losing your touch?" She teases, turing around so the gun is against her forehead.
"I won't ask again."
The red-head smiles, reaching her hand up making Mitch's finger lay itself onto the trigger. Kylie ignores the very clear warning, pulling off her sunglasses and wig.
"Surprise," she smiles smugly, soaking in the wide eye gaze Mitch gives her.
"Kylie?"
"Hey, Mitchie, mind putting the gun down?"
Mitch reluctantly puts the gun down, the shock fading as anger begins to take over. The only emotion he really seems to feel lately. "What are you doing here Kylie?" Mitch's gaze hardens into the glare.
If Kylie was anyone else, she would be 6 feet under just from his glare alone-- but luckily, she wasn't just anyone.
Kylie's smirks. "Can't I visit an old friend?"
Mitch's glare never falters as he voices his thoughts. "We haven't talked in years," he states emotionlessly.
Kylie snorts. "Wasn't exactly by my choice was it, Mitchell?" She gives him a pointed look.
"Don't call me that," he grumbles, watching as the blonde makes herself at home on his couch.
"What are you doing here?" He huffs impatiently.
"What? No, 'how've you been Kylie?" She antagonizes, watching as Mitch's foot taps up and down, his impatience always was his biggest downfall.
"I'm not playing games, what the fuck do you want?"
"Ooh Mitch mad, Mitch want answers," Kylie mocks in a caveman-like tone.
"Ky-"
"I'm here on official business," the brown-eye girl interrupts. "My boss sent me."
"What the hell does the CIA want with me?"
"Gee, I don't know," Kylie sarcastically replies in exasperation. "Take a wild guess."
"How about you tell your boss no," Mitch tells her, before walking away and back to the shower. The steam starts to suffocate the already stuffy apartment.
"You don't tell the U.S. Government no Mitch," Kylie stands up from her spot on the couch. "Especially when you're an American going on foreign soil and killing people."
"They're not people," Mitch spits, his voice full of disgust. "They're terrorist."
"And what do you think you are Mitch? What do you think they call you?"
Mitch's stance hardens at the suggestion Kylie is making. "I'm nothing like them."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Kylie sing-songs, her watching beeping.
"What is that?"
Kylie takes a deep breath, pressing a button on the side of her watch. "It means time's up," she tells him, rapidly grabbing the pistol from his hand and twisting it out of his grasp. Her right leg hooks the back of his legs, making his knees crumble into a kneeling position. She twists the pistol, slamming it against his temple and effectively knocking him out.
"Target down, ready for move out," the brown-eye girl talks into her watch seconds before a swat team pushes their way through the brunette male's apartment.
"Nice take down," Liam's southern drawl pulls Kylie's attention away from the men carrying Mitch out.
Liam effortlessly swaggers his way into the room, his blue eyes scanning all the photos and writings on the wall. He whistles, his thumb jutting to the wall. "Makings of a madman," he jokes.
Kylie blinks, her face blank.
"Are you sure this is the guy Irene wants?" He questions, his fingers roaming a German For Dummies book.
"Positive," Kylie replies mindlessly, her arms crossed against her chest.
"Well, then let's not keep her waiting," the blue-eye male makes an 'after you' gesture with his arm.
"Let's," Kylie replies before strutting out the door.
NOTES. haven't written in awhile it feels nice to be back. please let me know what y'all think, i love knowing your guys thoughts!!
