Running down the streets in Moscow, your legs move you as fast as they could, as you were being pursued by three men. You felt your lungs burning from breathing so hard, and your legs felt like they were about to snap out of their sockets. The reason you were in this situation was because you were a spy for an agency known as the IMF (Impossible Mission Force).
You had infiltrated an enemy organisation with the intention of bringing what you found back to the IMF. However; before you could actually get the information, you had been caught trying to call for an extraction team. You were in the wind for a couple days, but you were found, and are currently being hunted down.
Thinking you could lose them, you rsn down an alleyway. This was a mistake, because there was no escaping, only a dead end. 'Fuck' You thought to yourself, as you panted and clenched your fists together. You heard heavy footsteps and laughter as you turned around slowly. There was no way out of this. You had to fight. The larger of the three men came forward and pushed you into a wall. You grunted as you felt your body hit the bricks behind you.
"Stupid Americans. Always taking what doesn't belong to them. Always sticking their noses where they shouldn't. When we're done with you, you'll pay for what you stole from us. Now, are we doing this the eay way or are you ready to die?" He asked in his thick Russian accent. As he grabbed your chin roughly, you spit in his face, making him flinch and take a step back. Before the others could do anything, you smirked and replied in English,
"The question should be...Are you?" You got into a fighting stance as the man shouted to his other partners. The shortest of the trio ran towards you, hoping to suckerpunch you. Giving a roundhouse kick to his face, you punched him in the stomach, grabbed their head and slammed your knee into their chin, making them fall to the floor, unconscious. You failed to notice that the other men had come behind you and wrapped a rope around your neck, choking you and cutting off any oxygen to your lungs.
You kicked and squirmed around, making the rope squeeze your neck tighter. Your vision was going black as the blood rushed to your brain, and your breathing turned into coughing and struggles for air. Before you passed out, you were suddenly dropped, sending your body to the ground. You quickly grabbed the rope and loosened it, coughing and gasping for air. You felt a hand on your shoulder, and with the remaining stamina you had, your fight or flight response kicked in. Grabbing the arm of the assailant, you flipped them onto their back and straddled their chest. Pulling a knife out if your belt, you placed it against their throat, and placed your legs on their arms, trapping them. "Who the hell are you? Why did you follow me?" You growled aggressively, not knowing if this stranger was friend or foe. The man beneath you smirked, and responded in English, "Agent Ethan Hunt." So he was American... WAIT!! Ethan Hunt? THE Ethan Hunt. Eyes wide, you quickly got up and offered your hand, which he accepted. After pulling him up, you stood there, staring at him as he dusted himself off. To say you were embarrassed would be an understatement.
"I apologize for my aggressiveness, Agent Hunt. I wasn't aware that the IMF sent backup." you looked at him as he gave you a reassuring smile.
"You were doing what any agent should have done. If anything, I'm impressed that you took me down as easily as you did. I mean you were nearly choked to death and still had the strength to flip me over tour shoulder." Smirking, you looked down, your cheeks heating up. Suddenly, he let your shoulder go and looked down the alley. In the far distance, sirens were wailing, and only getting louder. "We should get going." With that, he led you back into the streets to safety.
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