Mission: Impossible Imagines

Foiled Plans • Ethan Hunt X Reader • M:I-3

*Cross posted from my 30 Days of Assorted One-Shots Book!

Prompt: Bound

Title: Foiled Plans

Fandom: Mission: Impossible 3

Warnings: Torture, blood, violence, knives, losing consciousness

Word Count: 3,860

Author's Note: This is sorta an AU type thing... It honestly came to me super randomly so bear with me!

Synopsis: When a fluke sandstorm separates the pair of Agents who were monitoring the whereabouts of a known American terrorist,  what was once a reconnaissance Mission quickly turns into a rescue Mission.

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Foiled Plans

The wind whistles pass your clothed face, your hair and every other piece of you no doubt already covered in sand.

Sand.

The one thing that you've never really particularly liked, ever since you were a child, is the very thing that stretches for what appears to be forever, the threat of the rising sun looming on the horizon.

But though this particular Mission called for you and your Teammates to be located quite literally in the middle of nowhere for months on end, that's not to say that this desert was empty.

No, in fact, it's far from it.

What some might call a micro-city has been gradually building over the course of your observations - a key piece in your Mission objective.

See, the IMF had gotten word who knows how long ago, that a man by the name of Jerric Imming, a former lieutenant in the US Army, had been dishonorably discharged from service due to his rather... extremist antics.

"It would seem Imming's certainly made himself right at home," The man at your side chuckles over the wind, his voice being transmitted into your earpiece as he hands you the set of binoculars he'd been peering through, moments ago.

Raising them to your own gaze, you survey the scene below from where you're perched, the rock's rough surface, combined with the sand in your sleeves, a rather unpleasant feeling.

And your Partner certainly isn't wrong.

The American, clearly out of place amongst the other men gathered rather eagerly around him, is sitting beneath the shelter of one of the larger tents on the inside of the city, a glass of what appears to be whisky raised to his lips.

"They must be after something out here," You muse, swiveling your attention to the various military-grade vehicles sitting quietly on the outside of the tent circle, a fresh layer of sand atop their hoods. "Because they wouldn't have spent the last two, three months dragging all this equipment out here for nothing!"

"Natural resources, maybe? Precious metals?"

"Maybe. But why in the world would a terrorist be after..." You pause, mentally piecing together your own question. "Gold. He's looking for gold to fund his next attack."

"That would explain the amount of people he dragged out here, too," Ethan mumbles as he removes the goggles he'd been wearing, the wind and the sand momentarily dying down a bit. "More hands make light work."

"And it would be easy enough to send a group back into town, one at a time, to trade in their findings for cold, hard cash..."

Realization is beginning to sink in as you and your Partner sink back down the rocky outcrop, surprising for this area of desert, but good cover nonetheless.