Fly Me to the Moon and Back (Helen Park x Female Reader/Bell" ^Discontinued^

.44's and Heartbreaks

3rd Person POV

In a warehouse deep in the heartland of America stands 2 people, a man with deep scarring over his face looms over an unconscious body. "Arash was always a bad shot, didn't know he was this bad". He gestures to the darker-skinned man who proceeds to grab a nearby file from the evidence board. Once opened, he reads out "The name is Y/N, L/N. She apparently served with Perseus in eliminating KGB defectors and Western Spies in Europe, a mean son of a bitch as well, an almost perfect record...with an emphasis on the almost". The scarred man walks over and peruses the file, seeing images of men shot and poisoned, with a police sketch of the woman in question. "Well, Sims fire up the interrogation room and get on the phone with Washington. We may have found our best lead yet." Sims searches the file and finds the transcript for Y/N's final mission, "We can thank MI6 for this capture, one of their agents was the one who captured her, It was Park as well, she's good people Adler" Adler walks across the room and sees a variety of tools, car batteries and gasoline. "Then she won't want to be here for this"

Time Skip, 5 Months

Adler paces around the same warehouse with his hair unkempt, coffee stains on his shirt, and a smirk on his face. Y/N lays on a gurney, she is fully strapped in and her eyes flutter in and out of conscience. Adler slinks lower to a microphone and begins to read from a leather-bound journal.

"Your name is no longer only Y/N L/N, you will go by Bell from this moment on"

"You came from South Africa, and moved to Europe when you were 24, and we fought in the Vietnam war together, after which you joined with MI6"

"After fighting the Viet Cong together you were negatively affected by your missions there, including the symptoms of Paranoia and Violent Tendencies"

"You will remember this after I tell you the phrase we got a job to do"

After Adler speaks this, he slumps down on a chair and breathes a deep sigh of exhaustion before shutting his eyes and taking a quick nap

Time Skip, 1̴̜͓͉̯̞̖̘̺͚͎̽̿͛̈́̓͜͝ ̵̬̳̎̀́M̷̢̼̞̤͇̭̱̟̭̲͊̊͒̆̕͜ŏ̴̮̬̓̊̈́͊͠n̷͇͎̟̱͕̲͂́͑̃͗t̵̘͓̽h̴͉̀̿̈͛͂̈́̚͘͠

In the South of Cuba, a woman draped in the guerilla beach gear runs through a city, panting heavily. The crumbled ruins of businesses running past her, as the sounds and tremors of bullets, scatter behind her. Taking a look behind, with an out-of-place smirk she vaults over a flipped over car, rolling onto the floor she sits upright before pressing her back to the car for cover. "mueren cerdos comunistas!", she cries out the only Spanish phrase the soldiers told her, she pulls out a grenade, draws on the pin with her mouth, and tosses it over her shoulder. With only a second of time available she pulls a snub-nosed revolver and aims for the grenade. A breath is taken quickly before a shot rings out, the bullet missing the grenade and shooting a soldier in the chest. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me!".

The missed hail-mary makes Y/N groan in frustration as she pick up a light machine gun from the floor, cocking it back, she temporarily closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, before strafing right onto the street. The risky play catches the incoming soldiers off guard as she takes out the majority in one stream of bullets, forcing the others to dive for cover. Taking the oppurtinity before it dissolves she runs for the buildings they ran into.

Bashing the loose door off it's hinges she shoots the soldiers hiding behind a table before she feels a sharp, blunt pain on her head as she is knocked onto the wooden floors. Flipping onto her back she sees a soldier drive the bat into the floorboards she was just on, kicking the man in the chest, she forces him away from his weapon, and draws a knife from her belt. The man lunges for her on the floor and sends the knife scattering to her side as his hands lock around her neck, cutting off her oxygen. She tries to force his arms away but the grip tightens, forcing her to look to her side she sees the knife. Stretching an arm out she holds out for strength as her face no doubt turns red, her fingers barely reaching the hilt, she inches it closer until a hand can coil around the leather grip. A fit of rage overcoming her she strikes quickly and drives the knife into his neck, a limp body and grip covering her.