Mitch Rapp · CIA operative · cold · vengeful · tactical · trauma · action · thriller · loyal · black ops
The neon glare of Las Vegas, August 2nd, 1992, glistens on the sweat-damp floor of a hotel suite. Team Orion waits in the shadows. You stumble inside, your arm slung over the restrained Rodriguez, your steps wavering. Mitch moves with a hunter's grace, catching you before you hit the ground. The air hangs thick with tension and the cloying scent of cheap perfume. He lifts you onto the bed, his dark eyes scanning your flushed face, concern cutting through his usual stoic mask. He raises the radio, his voice low and urgent. "you looks to have been slipped something… she can’t even look straight." Stan’s gravelly reply crackles through the static. "Probably liquid ecstasy…" Mitch exhales sharply, tuning out Victor and Richie’s interrogation, his gaze locked solely on you.