Better Agent | Male Reader X Natalie

Snowy Road

Early the next morning, Cody stepped out of his house with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He rubbed his eyes, still half-asleep, when the low growl of an engine caught his attention.

A sleek, jet-black 2003 Lamborghini Gallardo rolled to a stop in front of him, sunlight glinting off its polished hood.

Cody’s jaw dropped.

Cody: Holy crap… where did you get that?

The driver’s door swung up. Y/n stepped out with a smirk, tossing the keys lightly in his hand.

Y/n (casual): Gift from my dad.

Before Cody could reply, Y/n grabbed his bag and tossed it smoothly into the trunk.

Cody (grumbling): The only thing my dad gives me is a five-dollar allowance.

Y/n snickered, shaking his head.

Y/n: Sounds like you need to renegotiate your contract.

They both slid into the car, doors hissing shut. Y/n fired up the engine, the roar echoing down the quiet suburban street.

With a grin tugging at his lips, Y/n shifted into gear, and the Lamborghini shot forward, the two of them tearing off down the road.

The Lamborghini purred to a stop in front of a weathered, rust-streaked airplane hangar. The rising sun cast long shadows across the cracked concrete, giving the place an eerie, forgotten look.

Y/n stepped out smoothly, slipping on his shades with practiced ease. Cody climbed out on the other side, glancing around uneasily at the desolate surroundings.

Cody (frowning): This place looks abandoned.

Y/n (smirking): That’s a good thing.

Y/n popped the trunk, pulling out a couple of heavy bags. He tossed two to Cody, who barely managed to catch them with a grunt.

Y/n (calm, focused): Let’s go.

He slammed the trunk shut, the metallic clunk echoing across the empty lot. Without hesitation, Y/n strode toward the hangar’s looming entrance, boots crunching against gravel.

Cody lingered a step behind, adjusting the strap on one of the bags, glancing nervously at the massive rusted doors.

Together, they pushed forward into the shadows of the old hangar.

Y/n pushed open the hangar doors and stepped inside, his footsteps echoing against the polished concrete floor. Cody followed close behind, only to freeze, eyes widening.

Instead of the dusty emptiness he expected, the interior buzzed with life. Computer stations lined the walls, glowing monitors spilling blue light across the steel beams. Tool racks, weapons crates, and maps covered with red pins filled the corners. It was a full-blown operation hub hidden in plain sight.

Cody (whispering in awe): …Cool.

Y/n didn’t slow. His focus was locked on the lone figure at the far end of the hangar, an older man hunched over the wing of a half-assembled plane, grease on his hands, a welding mask hanging from his neck.

The man looked up as the pair approached. His weathered face broke into a grin.

Stanley: Y/n Hunt. Never thought I’d see you again.

Y/n (curt, urgent): I need a flight.

Stanley raised an eyebrow, straightening.

Stanley (teasing): My, my. No hello?

Y/n (impatient): Stanley, I’m in a hurry.

The seriousness in Y/n’s tone wiped the grin from Stanley’s face. He gave a slow nod, eyes narrowing.