The Pedro Pascal Files

A Statesman's Flight // Jack Daniels

"Ah! Son of a bitch, Whiskey!" I shouted. "Now, is that any way for a lady to talk?" He asked, stepping over me. "If I was a lady it might apply." I said, sitting up. My lower back stung from the hit he had applied with the staff. "You're a real asshole." "You turned your back on me, sugar. Shouldn't have done that." I groaned, getting back on my feet with the staff in my hands. "Again." He said. I placed my foot forward, swinging the staff at him. The objective was to get him on his back, which was no easy feat. Whiskey seemed to dodge my attempts pretty well. "Come on, sugar. Give me something to work with." He snapped, using the staff he was holding to apply a rough slap to the back of my knee. I came forward, on my knees.


I was starting to get angry. I threw the staff away, getting back on my feet. "Use your fucking hands." I snarled. He shrugged his shoulders, throwing his staff away. "Have it your way, honey bee. Come get me." He said, curling his fingers towards himself. I rushed towards him, my hands landing on his shoulders. This wasn't really what I was going for and it wasn't long before he had me on my back. His strong hands pinned my wrists above my head. He was sitting on my stomach. "You spend a lot of time on your back, sugar. Are you like that in bed?" He asked me. "Get off me." I growled. "Get me off yourself." I bucked my hips upwards, kicking my leg back until it collided with his head. He fell forward, loosening his grip and giving me just enough time to get out from under him.


Using my feet, I shoved him away, digging my heel into his rib cage. As we maintained that sitting position, he still came at me, wanting to get me on my back again. I bent my knees as they were smashed against my chest under his weight. I used my own body weight to toss him over my head. He landed on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Only problem was now the position had switched and I was sitting on his lap. My hands had secured their grip to his wrists, keeping him there. "I like this position a lot better, honey bee." "You're disgusting." I snapped. "Ahem." Our eyes moved away from each other to the doorway. Agent Tequila was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. I immediately released Whiskey's wrists, scrambling away from him. "Nice to know training is going so smoothly." He said, putting heavy emphasis on the word. "She's angry enough, but she lacks skills." Whiskey said, standing up and picking up the staffs. "Tequila, we weren't—" "Doesn't matter. Champ wants to see us. So you should get dressed." He said. Tequila left us in the training room.

I turned around, narrowing my eyes at Whiskey. "You did that on purpose, you sadistic asshole." I said, storming over to him. I raised my hand to hit him and he caught it. "Careful, darlin'. I'm a real killer when I can be." He snarled. "You don't scare me." I snapped. "I don't want to, but I only think it's fair to remind you: you ain't allowed to be with Tequila." "Is that supposed to make me want to be with you?" I challenged. He scoffed. "You ain't woman enough for me." He said, releasing me and shoving me away. I stormed away from him, grabbing my clothes and heading to go get changed.

Moments later, I found myself, walking into Champ's office. Tequila was already sitting there and Whiskey was following behind me. "About time y'all showed up." "Well, you know how much time Whiskey likes to spend sprucing up." I sneered, sitting down beside Tequila. Whiskey walked around the table, seating himself at the opposite side. "Enough of the squabbling. I swear that's all y'all do. Put your glasses on and pay attention." Champ said. I reached inside the blazer and pulled out the aviators, slipping them on my face. Our heads turned towards the screen at the front of the room. "We've received a distress call from one of our agents who was on hiatus in Sweden. Last we heard, the call was cutting in and out really bad. The location was marked for us, that's all we have." "Can we hear the message?" I asked. The screen flashed just once to a recording screen.


Across the screen was a flat line, but it started to peak when a scratchy voice echoed through to the other side. "ChhAAAAaammmpp—ther—theEer's—not...good signal. W-WeEEee weRrrree ambusssshhhee—" "That's where the audio cuts out. Not much to go on." Champ said. "It's enough for now. When do Tequila and I leave?" Tequila looked over at Champ. "Actually, it won't be you and Tequila this time." My eyes immediately darted over to Whiskey. He was sitting there with his hand resting on his cheek, unfazed. "Oh you can't be serious, Champ." "Gin, it's what works best. Tequila has to stay here." He said. "No! I'm not going to spend a 12 to 14 hour flight with Whiskey, you cannot be serious about this!" Champ slammed his hands down on the table. "It's my order and that's final. The jet had already been readied. I suggest you pack your things and get on that plane before night time." I scoffed, leaving the room.