Mission Impossible: A nearly [im]possible mission

Darkness and Fear: IMF Style

DISCLAIMER- I don't own the Mission Impossible franchise or any of its characters, sans my own

My eyes snapped open. No no no no no, I thought frantically as my eyes darted around my surroundings. I was chained to a pole in the middle of a cold room, seemingly made entirely of concrete. My head ached and my bullet wound and cuts still stung. I couldn't call my team, all I could hope was that the tracking device I had installed on the Russian car would have popped up on Benji's screen. Hopefully the team was following it. I didn't know what to do. I bit my lip as I felt around the chains, but they were too tight and secure to finagle my way out of. My left wrist was throbbing too, having landed on it on the way down after the car hit me. It was likely broken, a sprain shouldn't feel like that. I heard metal creaking and I looked up to see a door swinging open. My heart dropped, I had never been good at interrogations, as my poker-face was borderline terrible, I smiled no matter what. I had just barely passed the test to enter the IMF, but thankfully my other scores made up for it. But that wouldn't help me now.

A man walked in, toting a brief case. He laid it on a metal table and started taking various tools out. Scratch that, various torture devices out. I felt my eyes widen and I gritted my teeth mumbling curse words under my breath. I got the willies from seeing blood, so I already knew this was going to be terrible for me. Not even concerning the, you know, torture that was sure to come with it. And I knew deep down that if they pounded hard enough, they might be able to get something out of me. I wasn't as tolerant to pain as Ethan, one of my other teammates.

The man had his tools in order, after adjusting them in an OCD manner. Hmm, peculiar, I thought to myself. He made eye contact and began to speak in hushed tones. I had to strain to hear him, and with all the blood rushing to my ears and the throbbing of my head made it near impossible. He paused, seeming to wait for a response. Finally, I rolled my eyes at myself and spoke up.

"I haven't and inkling of an idea of what you just said" I said with a little bit of sass, regretting both the sass and my use of manners immediately. 

But the fellow just smiled, adjusted his glasses, and continued to speak. With a stutter I noticed. Which made me grimace a little more. I had love studying human behavior at the BAU, and the psychology of the brain. But unfortunately, it means that I knew that on average, people with stutters tend to have an IQ 14 points higher than that of the average population. But fortunately for me, the cause of stutters can often be caused by anxiety and stress. Meaning that if pushed a little, I could break his calm facade and possibly get him to crack. Then I realized I hadn't been listening, so I only caught his last words; "So I-I would start talking." 

I smiled sweetly and responded with, "Oh, maybe I will. But have you heard yourself talk recently? People must have been heathens to you to make a stutter of that caliber."

I smiled a little, knowing I had hit the right nerve as I watched the man's smile fall and his features become pale. I was going to make another jab until the door crashed open again, revealing the most muscular guy I had ever seen. He smiled deviously and took a step closer to me before turning to the smaller guy. "Need some help?" He said, making me shiver from the gleam in his eyes and malice in his voice."

"No, n-no, we are all g-good for the time being. I'll c-call y-you later Yuri." He said gulping. He seemed as scared of him as I was. 

"Very well, I'll be back soon." Yuri said as he turned to leave but not without whipping around and giving me a hard blow to my side. I gasped a little and felt myself crumple with only my hand chains holding me up. I coughed as I straightened my self up again, watching as he slammed the door on his way out. As I watched him leave, I was filled with red anger. I could feel it bubbling up behind my blue eyes, and steaming out through the tips of my already red hair. I huffed and turned my head to face the small man, my eyes narrowed and cold. Then I yanked my broken wrist as hard as I could against the chains until it slipped out. I then used my numb fingers to pry the mechanics of the lock apart leaving both of my hands free. I clenched my fists and snarled, "Where am I?"