Agent Benjamin Ripley

Chapter 4

This is inspired by the try guys get kidnapped video and yes, I took the name from K.C. Undercover. Thanks to DAonlymoose and Spyschool13- my first followers! If you guys like this fanfic, please vote on it so others can see! Love you all! Anyway, I don't own Spy School. 

My well tuned instincts picked up on his hands. They were large and rough. He obviously did hard work, definitely not a run-of-the-mill-rich-guy. My last thought before I passed out was the fact that this was an experienced assassin.

I woke up in the cold hard floor. My hands were zip cuffed together, my feet chained to the floor so I couldn't run. A man was standing over me, a clown ski mask covering his face with a dark grey baseball hat with no logo, great, untraceable.

"Where do I find Erica and project raincoat?" The man hissed. I recognized him as the man who knocked me out. Chloroform... things were still pretty fuzzy.

"Where is your phone?" The man began patting the pockets in my pants.

"It's... in my room..."

"Why would you leave it in your room?"

"I... don't like the way it makes my... butt look." Clown mask snorted.

"Well, that makes my job easier, then, doesn't it?" He grabbed his gun from his back pocket. Pushing it against my head, he asked the question again. He continued to torture me, before bringing a knife out. He cut spy into my shoulder. I gritted my teeth, as blood dripped down my arm, onto my lap, the world going white, not wanting to give my captors the satisfaction of my screams.

"Now, I'm gonna ask you one more time..." The man poised the knife over my heart.

"What. is. project. Raincoat." It was less a question and more of a command. A command to give up the CIA. I was shivering right now, sure I was going to die. I'm sorry, Erica, Mom, Dad, Jawa, Zoe, Mike, Chip... I started naming my friends... my family... everyone I would miss and who would devastated. Tears pricked my eyes and then I almost laughed at the irony. Ben Ripley, the famous spy, awarded the medal of freedom by the president, dead at the hands of terrorists. It would probably be a treasured joke between my friends. And Erica... Erica... She'd be stupefied. She'd probably hide behind the wall of ice that she likes to hide behind when she doesn't want to deal with feelings.

"Cain!" Another man appeared at the doorway, just as the blade was about to pierce my shirt.

"What." Cain sounded annoyed. The other man gulped.

"The boss wants to see you. It's about it." He flinched. Cain looked back at me, hissing in my ear:

"Don't you worry, Pretty boy, I'll be back for you." He set the knife on the table and stalked out.

We had learned how to escape in our fourth year. I couldn't remember exactly how to escape from this type of cuff, though. Damnit! If only Erica was here! I thought bitterly, blowing my hair out of my face. Then I remembered. You may think that banging your hands against the floor will release the mechanism, but in reality, that just dislocates your wrist.

I reached for the strand of kevlar string in my pocket. The friction saw uses friction heat to melt through the plastic. Grunting and baring my teeth, I got to work, using my feet to pedal the string. The cuffs broke, leaving my hands free.

Panting, I pat my pants, looking for my gun. I swore when I realized I had been disarmed. Tiptoeing forward, I almost fainted. The chloroform was giving me vertigo. I remembered that there was a knife on the table. Grabbing it quickly, I shoved it in my pocket before realizing that it was covered in blood. My blood. The clown guy, Cain, the other man had called him, had left it here. Ammature, I smirked.