Hurley stood over Mitch with his eyebrows furrowed. "Rapp, listen to me kid. I can't keep helping you out like this, you need to make a choice and quick. They're on my ass about your stupid fucking behavior in Thailand."
"Oh come on, Hurley, you know that situation wasn't my fault. It would've been even worse if I hadn't been there!" He pleaded with Hurley, insisting for the hundredth time that day that his actions on the last mission had been unavoidable.
"Do I? Do I know that? Because those four collapsed buildings and seven video cameras with your face all over them would say otherwise, Rapp."
Mitch stood up now, his face growing red as the vein in his neck protruded slightly. "You weren't there... Sir. You didn't see what was going on. There was no other option, I couldn't get to the guy in time and he was wearing the fucking bomb, Hurley. What else did you expect me to do?"
"I don't fucking know, Rapp, but they're pinning this on you so now you have to choose. And if you don't choose you're done for good." He paused, "I know you don't want that and I sure as hell don't either, you're one of my best damn recruits." Hurley rubbed his forehead with his fingers, trying to think of what to say next.
Mitch banged his fist against the cold, grey wall. "Couldn't they give me some better options? I mean seriously, I either an eight-month suspension or go undercover for a year? Jeez, Hurley. I know the Agency is already prepared to send me undercover but I don't want to do undercover and I sure as hell am not letting you suspend me."
The door opened behind them as Stansfield walked in. As if his position as the CIA's Director didn't already give him enough power, his perfect posture and perfectly kept suit-and-tie made him even more intimidating.
"Rapp, buddy, Hurley over here tells me you're giving him a tough time. You went rogue, okay? This is what happens when you go rogue, you're not giving either of us much of a choice here." He patted Mitch on the back as he shook Hurley's hand.
"I did not go 'rogue'. I did my job, Director."
The Director ignored him, moving on with what was most likely a pre-rehearsed speech to convince Mitch to fold. "Look, you already know that you've got two options. You get an eight-month suspension, which will put you on complete and total lockdown. No going to the grocery store, no running in the park, no eating out. Nothing. Or, you can take the open position in the Undercover Division. Cooper is out for the year on 'paternal leave', whatever the hell that means, so we need someone to fill in. We can't have you working in Orion for now, you're a liability, but we also don't want to lose you. So, give me a straight answer, Rapp. It's up to you."
Mitch sat back down, burying his head in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark brown strands, and muttered quietly. "Fine. I'll take the job."
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Hurley jokingly tapped a finger against his ear as he let out a deep chuckle.
"But! Only if I get to go overseas. I don't want to have to deal with any of those useless, domestic undercover operations that end up helping no one."
Hurley looked at Mitch, "I knew you couldn't say no."
"Yeah, yeah, so what's the job?"
"What makes you think we've already got a job for you?" Hurley was still poking fun at Mitch.
"I know you, Hurley, you wouldn't push for it if you didn't know I would actually be working."
"Well, you're right. We do have a case for you, Hurley and Bennett will brief you in a few minutes. Welcome back to the Agency... Officially." The Director approached Mitch with his hand outstretched, waiting for him to shake it.
Mitch shook his hand hesitantly, wondering what kind of operation they'd be sticking him on, and hoped that this wasn't just some elaborate scheme to babysit him from within the Agency. The Director quickly left and Hurley sat down in the chair next to Mitch, tapping his fingers against his thighs impatiently.
Hurley turned his head to face Mitch. "See? This isn't so bad. You still get to work and you get to travel.
"You know it's not, but it is better than a suspension." Mitch rolled his eyes lightly.
"Hey, you know what I just realized? You're actually perfect for this job. Didn't you get a minor in French? I'm almost sure I saw that before I burned your nasty excuse of a resume."
"Gee, thanks, Hurley. Yeah, I got a major in International Business and minored in French. Why exactly is this important?" He paused for a second as Hurley let him think. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. France? Really? That's probably going to be just as boring, if not more boring, than a domestic case."
"Stop that, Mitch, just wait until you're briefed and you might even like the case. Plus, I can't believe you're judging this case for being boring when you're the domesticated dumbass who dropped out of your last year of training at the Academy just to be with Maureen."
Hurley waved his arms around jokingly, mimicking a despaired Mitch. "'Ahhhh. She was so scared. Blah blah blah. She didn't want me to get hurt.' Can't believe you ever gave up this life for a chick... and a dead one at that."
"Can we not talk about Maureen? Please?" Mitch slumped in his seat, still haunted by the wounds that never seemed to heal.
"Fine, Agent Cry Baby. I mean you lost your lacrosse scholarship for that position in the FBI and you still threw it away for her. I don't know, I'm just shocked is all."
He clenched his fists and spoke slowly, trying to maintain his composure. "I know. I get it, Hurley. You've made your point now drop it. And where the hell is Bennett with the briefing?"
Almost as soon as Mitch had voiced his complaint, Agent Bennett walked in with a laptop and two paper files in hand. "Hurley, Rapp. Are we ready here?"
"Yeah, whatever, get on with it Bennett." Hurley waved his hand dismissively at the young agent who was struggling to connect his laptop to the television in front of them.
Bennett was finally able to put his presentation up on the screen. "Okay, Agent Rapp, you leave in a week and a half and when you arrive in Paris, you will be meeting up with Agent Russo, or as he is known to the Celestins, Axel Didier. Try not to blow his cover, please. He's the only person we've ever managed to get into the Celestins' inner circle and he's also the only one who can get you in."
"The who's?" Mitch looked up at Bennett and his presentation with confusion.
"The Celestins. France's biggest mafia family. Originally from Italy, they changed their names to assimilate to Parisian norms over seventy years ago. Since then, they've managed to infiltrate every aspect of life possible, ranging from politics to agriculture, and no one has ever come close to stopping them. Your job, Rapp, is to infiltrate that same inner circle and gather intel so that we might have a real shot at taking them down. Nothing more, Rapp. I know it's not what you're used to, but please don't kill anyone and don't even try to talk to Marcel Celestin's daughter. He'll rip you in half before you can say 'hello' to her."
"Who are you to tell me who'll 'rip' me in half or not, Bennett? You've never even been in the field before."
"My talents were needed elsewhere." Bennett retorted at the comment.
Even Hurley joined in, "Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid. Just get on with the presentation, please. Don't make me do your job for you."
"Fine. Rapp, you will be there for the next year and at the end of that year, we will fake your death and you will return to Orion, living the same life as before. You'll have to go through a few minor adjustments with your appearance to fit in better there but it's nothing major, just a few tattoos and getting rid of that beard should do the trick. And you need to attend a four-hour French intensive every day before you leave just to make sure your French is up to par. Other than that, you should be good to go, Agent."
"Really, Bennett? 'Good to go?' You're not forgetting anything?" Hurley leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and staring incredulously at Agent Bennett.
"Uhhhh... No?"
"Gah-damnit! You didn't tell Rapp his undercover name, you idiot."
"Oh yeah. I did forget that."
"What's my name supposed to be then?"
"Mitch Stilinski. We wanted to keep your first name the same for ease, but we wanted to add in a vaguely European last name to adapt your name better to the setting." Bennett smiled at his fix.
Mitch got up and walked to the door, opening it slightly as he sighed, "Well then, I'm going to go home to prep for this upcoming year in hell. Thank you very much for all of that very insightful information, Bennett."
