𝑅𝐸𝑄𝑈𝐼𝐸𝑀 - M.R.

[RIVALRY]

Rafael McCall is just about as obnoxious as Mitch expects him to be. He looks tired and old, like a weather-worn shack in a raging storm.

There are as twice as many wrinkles on his face as when Mitch last saw him, and the bags under his eyes are a purplish-blue. His hair has thinned, humbly receding and if Mitch could feel pity, he'd feel it for Raf.

Well... no he wouldn't, because the guys a dick, and the smug look on his face alone when he drags Mitch back into the station first thing in the morning makes the assassin want to add another digit to his kill count.

But the guy looks like he hasn't caught a break in a while, and that's bad, because people who feel like they're failing at their job tend to overcompensate.

It's like those cops that pull you over for a misunderstanding and treat you like you've shot the president once they've realised there's nothing to charge you with — because it's your fault they can't solve a case, it's your fault they can't get an arrest, all yours, even if you didn't know the man ten minutes prior.

Hell, only 11% of serious crimes end in conviction by the police, so who can blame them? Mitch would probably act like a dick too if he, for example, couldn't catch the leader of a supernatural domestic terrorist organisation — oh, wait.

-

He's handcuffed before he's brought into the station, despite everyone involved knowing it's unnecessary, because these officers know the sheriff's son, and what could he possibly do?

They search him for weapons when he gets there, which — well that's a little awkward.

They pull three knives from his person and a loaded firearm, Agent McCall just stands there watching it happen with a sparkle in his eye.

Mitch thinks he's enjoying this a little too much, but that's fine, he'll wipe that smirk off his face.

His phone and wallet gets taken off him and they don't bother to search either, at least not before Mitch is dragged to an interview room.

Once there he's uncuffed before he sits down.

"So, you do have anything to say to yourself before we begin, Mr Stilinski?" Rafael asks, standing behind the chair opposite in spite of sitting down.

"Rapp."

"What?"

"My name isn't Stilinski, it's Rapp, Mitch Rapp," he replies, like it's obvious and he shouldn't even have to explain, which, well it is obvious. Because if Raf had waited a minute to search his wallet he would've found his ID and Badge and he'd know it's Rapp.

They wouldn't even be doing this right now.

Agent McCall blinks, taken off guard already, and if that's really all it takes Mitch is a little disappointed.

"Alright, and what's the nature of your visit to Beacon Hills, Mr Rapp?"

"Visiting family," Mitch states, pulling a face as if to say, isn't it obvious?

"And here I'd hoped you'd grown out of that smart mouth."

"I'm just answering your question, agent, what else was I supposed to say?"

McCall rolls his eyes, resting his hands on his chair and leaning forward, "you killed three people, this isn't a joke."

"Allegedly killed three people," Mitch corrects, because being a complete ass to the people who deserve it is the only real source of joy in his life. Even if that joy is more just shameless vindictive pleasure. He'll take what he can get.