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were-cheetah-stiles · 7 years

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The Recruit (Chapter 23) - Mitch Rapp

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “Day 94″

Characters: Mitch Rapp, Stan Hurley, Irene Kennedy, Julian Casablancas & Reader/OFC

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, sexual assault, PTSD, Mitch being glum.

Summary: Dan Brunski was dead, having been shot by Y/n the night before. Irene Kennedy and Stan Hurley begin interviewing Y/n, Mitch and the other trainees in an effort to understand what happened.

Chapter Twenty-Two - Chapter Twenty-Three - Chapter Twenty-Four

Mitch stood in the doorway to his bedroom, watching, along with many of the other trainees, as Aiden and Campbell lifted one of the stretchers from the pool, with a white sheet from your bed, covered in blood. Dan's lifeless body didn't quite fit on the orange stretcher, and Mitch saw his pale hand drooping from underneath the blanket. Stan sent everyone back to their bedrooms and threatened to kick them all out of the program if any of them came out until they were called. Mitch glanced at his alarm clock above his bed; it was 0145 hours and he was wide awake. He felt numb and confused. He didn’t sleep a wink that night. He sat on the edge of his bed staring at his closed door, his hands clasped together in front of him.

The sun began to rise and light poured through Mitch's window, when a soft knocking aroused him from his trance of staring at his hands. He looked up and saw Aiden open his door. "Come with me."

Mitch propelled himself off of his bed and followed behind the middle aged, but still gifted, CIA agent as he walked down the hall towards Stan’s office. Mitch walked through the door, paused, and stared at Stan leaning over his desk.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” Mitch caught the older man’s attention.

Stan glanced up at the young trainee standing in his doorway, and began approaching Mitch. “Yeah, shut the door.”

Mitch did as he was told and glanced back at Stan, who gestured for Mitch to sit in the chair at the front of his desk, while Stan leaned against his desk, mere feet away from the trainee. He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, staring at Mitch across from him.

"Tell me what happened, in your own words, between Y/n and Dan Brunski." Stan prompted.

Mitch nodded once and took a deep breath; this massive weight that had been bearing down on Mitch's chest for months was about to be lifted, and frankly, Mitch was relieved. "From what I've been told and from what I've seen firsthand, Dan Brunski had been-"

Mitch was interrupted by the door to Stan's office opening. He whipped his head around to see Irene Kennedy walking in, and Stan rising to his feet to pull the chair out for his boss. "Please continue, Mitch." Irene said as she lowered herself behind Stan's desk.

Mitch glanced at Irene and Stan, now hovering behind her, and then continued with his version of the events that had transpired. "Dan Brunski was an incredibly unstable individual. I still don't know if he was sexist, jealous, or just a psychopath, and maybe it was all three of those things wrapped up into one dangerous and deranged package, but one thing was clear early on for me: he was not happy with Y/n’s presence here."

"So what happened, Rapp." Stan rolled his wrist in a circular motion, urging Mitch to get on with the story.

"We need all the interactions that you know of that took place between Dan Brunski and Y/n, Mitch. Anything you can remember." Irene interjected, using a kinder approach than Stan.

"You want the whole story?" Mitch asked, and Irene nodded. "Fine. The second day I was here, I was sitting at lunch with Rob Russells and Julian Casablancas Y/n had shot my targets in the shooting range and..."

"Why didn't you come to me when it happened, Y/n?" Irene sat in Stan's empty office, in one of the pair of club chairs sitting in the corner, with you sitting across from her, a stoic and apathetic look on your face.

You shrugged. "No offense, Director, but you're not exactly accessible to us, and furthermore, I had it handled."

"I'm accessible to you though, Y/n. I've known you since you moved in with the Hurley's when you were a little girl." You shrugged again, and Irene felt guilt sweep through her body. "Well, I meant to be accessible to you. I'm sorry I didn't make that clear enough before now." You stared at the wall behind Irene's head, emotionless and silent to her apology. Irene sighed and picked up a thick manilla folder with The Agency's seal stamped on the front in black ink. She flipped through the file and pulled out a series of pictures, which she began to lay flat on the small, round table in between the two of them. Irene tapped on the top picture, looked up at you, and spoke again. "You did that to Brunski?" You glanced down at the picture. It showed Brunski's many facial fractures and swollen eye and lip; all injuries from the night that you slammed Dan's head into the tile of the shower stall repeatedly after he had sexually assaulted you. Under the top picture of Brunski's face, you were able to make out pictures of his shoulder and arm and the various other places in which you had left marks on him when you fought back.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Irene put the pictures of Brunski away, and picked up two more files. She laid out a few more pictures on the table and looked at your detached expression. Irene cocked her head to the side and tapped on the pictures on the table again. "Did you do this to Peter Collins and Jacob Clemens?"

You did not need to look at the pictures to know what they showed. You shook your head and made eye contact with Irene. "No, Ma'am. Mitch Rapp did that to Clemens and Collins. He walked into the bathroom as Dan Brunski was in the middle of assaulting me. Mitch heard a noise, sensed something was wrong and helped me to fend off my attackers." You spoke clinically about the event, then broke eye contact, and fixated back on the position on the wall behind Irene's head where you had been watching previously.

Irene raised her eyebrows and stared at the pictures for a few moments longer, before placing the three files of the perpetrators on top of the table. "You and Rapp make a good team." Irene admitted, before clasping her hands together and leaning forward towards the expressionless woman in front of her. "Y/n.... Y/n.." You snapped out of your trance and locked eyes with the Director. "I want to apologize." Irene shook her head and stared at your shoes. "I believe your story. You and Mitch gave identical accounts, except for the parts where he was not actually involved, and we took some testimonies from some other trainees that had noticed aggressive behavior directed towards you and Rapp from Brunski and his cohort. Stan always suspected something was happening there..."

"Fine." You were feeling particularly apathetic towards the situation at that point.

"Y/n, we failed you, and yet, you took care of our mess...." Irene paused and then continued, shaking her head as she went. "Brunski, Clemens and Collins would have become the CIA's problem eventually anyway, with the behavior that they displayed just at The Barn... The Agency owes you a debt of gratitude, Y/n.." Irene tried to look into your eyes, but the contact was just not there. She sighed. "We’re going to take care of you now. Well done, Hurley."

You narrowed your eyes and furrowed your brow, confused at the gratitude and encouragement. "So nothing will happen to me even though I broke the facial bones of another trainee, and then shot and killed him?" You asked trepidatiously.

Irene shook her head and leaned back in her chair. "No. He attacked you first. All of this was self-defense. Whatever you want, the Agency will provide it." Irene assured you. "I am working on your paperwork for making you an actual agent and getting you out of this place and into the field, and as we speak, I am having your things moved out of that room permanently."

You finally showed some emotion in the form of panic. "I don't want to leave that room."

"What?" Irene was shocked.

"I mean, I obviously don't want to sleep there tonight, or until it's refurbished, but... yea, I almost got raped in that room.. twice, but I also defended myself and eliminated my attacker in that room, and on top of that, it has been my home for almost three years. Clean it, repaint it, do what you have to do, but I don't want to be moved permanently." You explained.

Irene nodded her head and smiled, impressed by the fortitude and bravery that radiated from you. "Done, but really, Hurley, I don't know that you'll be there that much longer anyway."

Mitch opened his door a mere few seconds after hearing the light rapping on his bedroom door. The hour was drawing closer to lights out at The Barn and Mitch still had not seen or heard from you since the night before. He was a giant bundle of nerves. When the wooden door moved away, Mitch saw Julian standing in the hall in front of him.

"Hey."

"What's up, Casablancas?" Mitch asked, disappointed that it wasn't the girl that he loved.

"Crazy day, today, huh?" Mitch nodded suspiciously. "I, uh, was heading back to my room from the bathroom and I saw Y/n moving into the empty room at the end of the hall upstairs. I think it was Brian Keller's old room." Julian reported, casually.

"Why are you telling me this?" Mitch questioned.

"No reason. Just thought you'd want to know where your neighbor went." Julian pointed to the room behind him; your original room.

Mitch narrowed his eyes and stared at Julian, and then relaxed when Julian smiled and stuck out his hand in front of him. Mitch shook it and watched as Julian smiled genuinely. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Anything for my friends." Julian said quietly as he began walking back towards his room, sharing one final knowing glance before turning around completely. "Night, Rapp."

"Night." Mitch watched as the young and handsome Puerto Rican-American man walked into the stairwell and out of sight. Mitch understood the subtext of that conversation and appreciated Julian's loyalty and discretion. He rubbed at his eyelids, the fatigue really setting in to his face, and headed up the stairs towards your new bedroom.

22 <- -> 24

That new gif really worked out in my favor. I love when that happens.

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alexandraa-writes · 5 years

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Blog Entry# 3

When I’m consoling a friend who’s going through rough times, say for example a breakup or a loss, I tell them to let themselves feel everything— no matter how painful and heart-wrenching it may be. “Iiyak mo lang lahat ‘yan,” I would say. “Just let all the negativity out of your system,” I’ll add. I’ve read a fitting quote somewhere which goes, “Perhaps our eyes need to be washed by our tears once in a while, so that we can see life in a clearer view again.” I took note of that. It made sense. Crying is a form of release; it’s highly cathartic. It really does make you see your situation in a different perspective afterwards.

However, like most people, I can’t seem to follow my own advice.

I don’t know if I’ve always been like this or I’m just noticing it now, but after a traumatic incident involving roommates and blockmates and betrayal, I think my emotions have completely shut down. (Wow, I can’t believe just thinking back to that time made me flinch. Oof) Anyway, after all of that, I just became so apathetic (or was that what pushed me off the edge?) I don’t know how to explain this, but I just don’t care about anything (or anyone) anymore. To put it simply, Nawalan na ako ng pake, I guess.

After being constantly betrayed and abandoned by so, so many people I used to trust and care about, I’ve just given up. As cliché as it sounds, but my heart has slowly been turning stone cold, as hard as rock. I stopped being attached to people. Every person I meet, every existing relationship I have, I think of them as temporary— that one day, this very people who are making me laugh and smile would inevitably leave me. I’ve accepted that fact— that no one really stays in my life. They’ll all disappear eventually. I’ve never had a true best friend or a constant group of friends to support me. And it’s okay, and it will be okay. The thought of that doesn’t make me depressed or anything, it’s just something I have come in terms with. It doesn’t really bother me that much, but of course, I hope things weren’t like that. Sometimes I wish that someone would stay.

Recently, I haven’t felt any kind of unpleasant emotion that really riled me up. Of course, there’s the occasional sadness (Have you heard about the death of Oppy, the Mars Rover?) and I do feel anger at times (I’m looking at you, Philippine Government). So yeah, I’m not completely numb. I just haven’t been feeling any sort of intense emotions lately. To illustrate, when my best friend of three years backstabbed me, I didn’t feel anything. And when another close friend just stopped talking to me (when he promised never to leave), I just shrugged it off and moved on. Then there’s this ex-fling who disappeared after he said we’ll still be friends even if our little “relationship” ended, and I was just like “thank u, next” after. I can’t even remember the last time I genuinely cried. So, I guess, that’s a good thing, right?

Honestly, I don’t think I’m suppressing my emotions. There’s really no struggle to fight back tears, to stifle anger or anxiety— nothing. There’s nothing to suppress. However, I do feel empty at times, like there’s some sort of void in the place where my heart is supposed to be. My relationships seem so shallow now. No one’s impacting my life anymore, no one matters to me— not even my parents. When I say that I don’t care about anyone anymore, I really mean it. I don’t even care about myself or my life in general. I could die tomorrow, tonight, or as I’m writing this, I wouldn’t mind. Without attachments, nothing’s really holding me down to this world. I’m not suicidal or anything, but I just don’t see the value of my life anymore.

Woah, well that got dark really fast.

Anyway, I’m just a chill, happy-go-lucky, go-with-the-flow, ride-the-waves kind of person. I live by the quote, “Just say yikes and move on. It really do be like that sometimes.” (That’s actually my phone’s wallpaper right now) Shit happens, so might as well get over it quick; there’s no point crying over spilled milk. I just learn from my mistakes and move on to the next mistake. I’m weirdly optimistic in a sense that I don’t regret anything bad that I’ve done or has happened to me, I just treat it as a learning experience that would help me grow as a person.

So yeah, bottom line is: no emotions = no problem. Yay!

(As I’m proofreading this blog post, I’d like to say that I think I am suppressing my emotions after all. When I wrote about the part about me not having “real” friends, I kind of felt sad for myself. And I tried to push that sadness away, I tried to delude myself into thinking that I don’t care.) But really, I can’t help but think, is there something wrong with me? I’m outgoing, energetic, friendly, and I love meeting new people and interacting with crowds. I have lots of friends… but all those friendships seem so superficial. None of the people I’m friends with right now had seen me at my worst— no one knows about my hopes and dreams or even my favorite ice cream flavor (which is strawberry, by the way.) I’m really good at making friends, but I have a hard time maintaining them. It seems like I always do something wrong that compromises everything. Oh well, that’s all I can say.)

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aleatoryalarmalligator · 7 years

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Visit to Portland

I am in Portland Oregon – actually Milwaukee but close enough, visiting my friend Sarah. It's just my luck that the biggest snow storm in four years hit a few days back, wiping out power, making it difficult to drive, and causing many places to close due to the weather.

I left on the amtrak from Spokane. It was also incredibly snowy there as well, though to be fair everyone knows that Spokane has shit weather. I loved riding the train. It's such a smooth ride, and there happened to be a lot of room in the train. I was however, exhausted and sick by the time I finally got on the train. I have been moved back to a schedule where I have to arrive at work at five in the morning. They told me at the last minute. So, day one of work, I had just found out that I had to go to bed the night before, and since that is not my schedule, I was not tired. I didn't sleep day one. Day two, friends kept me from going to bed, and the next day I had to get up at five for work, but at the same time, I had to pack, and get ready to go early. So, all said and done, I ended up getting very little sleep for three days, which already rendered me a zombie.

Then, we had to drive through a blizzard up to Spokane so I could catch my train at three in the morning. I forget to mention that I hadn't had the opportunity to eat a real meal in several days. So my stomach was dying. I started feeling claustrophobic in the hotel my father eventually bought. He took the bed and snored, not a rhythmic snore that a person can acclimate to. He honked and blew raspberries and choked and his snores were random and loud. I sat there and watched Anthony Bourdain, my stomach cramping up, and my adrenaline off the charts. I felt nauseated. I have this problem where, when I have a scheduled appointment to be someplace, the act of anticipating it, the act of getting ready for it, and the act of waiting all makes me very nauseated and panicked. There is nothing I can do about it. It's the only way life can function. I am not sure where I picked up this issue, but it's no fun.

So, by two in the morning, I was a frothing beast scarcely resembling my former self. I was quietly containing it, but exhaustion and hunger had taken allegiance with my nervous antipation which was verging on fear. I didn't complain or anything, but I did feel impending death and the resignation did not make the nausea subside. We showed up at the train station. The train was over an hour late. It felt like six hours. I started develop hives on my body. I could not relax until the train finally came. I have never been on a train. When the train lady finally took my ticket, I was able to chill out a little. We took off slowly. We passed through on a bridge above the streets of Spokane. The view from my train window was refreshing and surreal. We went through downtown, cars were so covered with snow that you could barely tell what they were, and the street lights cast this orange glow on everything. The sky was a pink color. There was a post apocalyptic feel to the whole place. I loved it. I wish I lived in a town that had an amtrak station, I would travel everywhere. Eventually the train went into the woods. I drifted off into a half sleep that never was real sleep, since there was always different sounds waking me, and my neck was contorted uncomfortably slag against the window pane.

It didn't stop snowing until I got into Portland. Even outside of Vancouver it was still snowing. Sarah was waiting for me at the train station. We got on a few buses which took us to Milwaukee eventually. Sarah's apartment is very cute. She pays a lot per month for it with her mom. She doesn't really like living with her mom, but right now this is her option. She works at a local brewery and is working her way up to server so she can make big money, and then hopefully cut her hours so she can start college. One thing that is painfully true about both Sarah and her mom, is that though they are both highly functioning individuals, they both suffer from this distant melancholic depression. Maybe for different reasons. I have anxiety issues, and I have suffered from depression before, but I almost feel like anxiety causes me to be extremely disappointed with myself for not living to my full potential. But there, that kind of depression has an aim. Sarah lives in a fog that has no purpose. It's harder because I don't know if there is a core reason she is depressed. It almost just chose her.

Sarah tries really hard. People see her as being super proactive and assertive. She's a really good mom to her son, and she is able to keep a stable home. She is in many regards a healthy minded individual. But behind the veil, she's completely numbed by depression. And because I am very close to her, I can't not feel that. It has affected our friendship negatively. It's caused her to push me away. It's caused her to be apathetic in times when she should not have been. Her depression eventually forced me to become my own best friend. Not to spite her, but to keep myself afloat. In turn, I have become a weirder person, having focused on a potential relationship that never ended up happening, having a tumblr blog where I spilled my every thought, eventually becoming really unhinged and getting raped. It all happened, and it wasn't sometime I ever had any real close friends or family to help me with. I have gone so many years now where Sarah was always supportive and around, but emotionally distant that it's changed who I am as a person. I get very frustrated when people talk about depression like it's a casual ignorable illness. It really does accumulate to a great loss over time. For Sarah, it started when she was fourteen, but would go away sometimes for years at a time until she became twenty four or so. And like I said, since then we have trouble connecting somewhat.

Despite this though, and despite the fact she has moved, Sarah and I are still very close. It's just not the kind of close. She just can't be there for me most of the time, and a lot of times, not at all.

On another note.

This is the first time I have ever visited Portland in a way that I looked at the place through the lens of someone who might live here and call it home. Coming from where I live, I have always looked at this place, and seen it as a bit otherworldly and magnificent. Like just being able to walk down the streets would inevitably cast my spirit in gold. I still see it as a great place. But I can see from how Sarah lives that my problems will most likely follow me over.

I have spent a good majority of the days biding my time for the snow to finally stop. Sarah and I finally got out of the house today, visiting the Bin Store Goodwill (the ones that you have to go through trashy stuff to find super cheap good stuff),and then we visited a wonderful vegan sushi cart she likes to eat at. Otherwise, Sarah goes to work and stays home mostly. Visiting her son Townes has been a lot of fun. We watch Adventure Time a lot.

Back home, Allison, my sister got herself in an unfair situation. She has this hospital bill she didn't immediately pay. They quickly sold it to a collection agency. This agency called her once in October. She said she would pay them as soon as she moved over the money into another account. Then she forgot, and then Christmas happened. It's only two hundred dollars. A few days ago, police came to her work place and basically stated that the debt has been raised to nearly a thousand dollars, and if she doesn't pay it soon she is going to jail. This really rude prick has talked to her on the phone and raised her voice at her when she tries to talk to them. The whole thing seems very unfair. Allison is such a lowkey responsible young person. She's nerdy and has never gotten remotely in trouble. It seems strange to me that this all could happen within the same year that she had to go to the hospital. Over a small bill.

Anyway, I think that will be it for tonight. I didn't want to make this too long. I'm going to lay down.

#text

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