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archerarchives · 3 months ago

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New Girl Blues

Sterling Archer x Fem Agent Reader

The new girl is beautiful and impressive. Her cooperative mindset clashes with the competitive nature of the ISIS team. She's caught more than a few eyes just walking in the door. (I didn't proofread)

TWs: Death, guns, violence, violence against Y/N, sedation.

"A new agent? Already?" A tall, beautiful woman asks, annoyed. Her name is Lana Kane, and she's one of the best agents at ISIS.

"What's wrong, Lana? Worried about a little competition?" A dark-haired man chortles. Sterling Archer, top agent.

"Why would they be my competitor?"

"Well, because nobody can compete with me, Lana." His voice is taunting and almost sing-songy.

"Will you two please knock it off!" Malory, the woman in charge and incidental mother of Archer slams an open hand against her desk where she sits, surrounded by the other agents and staff. "I want you two on your best behavior when she gets here or I'll have your guts for garters!"

"Asking for a lot with these two..." Ray, sassy and pessimistic, chimes in under his breath.

"Ha! I knew it. She's your competition, Lana."

"Nobody mentioned a competitive work environment to me." You step through the door. "I'm afraid I prefer teamwork when I'm potentially being shot at." You smile, scanning the other agents in the room.

"Agent Y/L/N, this is-" Malory's words are cut off by her overbearing son.

"Sterling Archer, top agent." He extends a braggadocios hand. You shake it warmly, familiar with his type in this field of work. Arrogant, horny, expectant, etc.

"Oh, please," Ray groans. "Ray Gillette. Get out while you still can."

"Watch it, missy." Malory hisses.

"It's really nice to meet you all. My name's Y/N." You make intentional eye contact with Lana. "I'm excited to work with this team." Her expression is too hard to read, and attention is quickly called to the screen behind Ms. Archer's desk as she begins a mission brief.

Outside Malory's office, Pam, the HR manager and Carol Cheryl, Malory's secretary, are sharing gossip regarding the new hire. "She's kinda hot, right?" The erratic secretary leans back in her computer chair, mindlessly huffing a can of rubber cement.

"Not really my type, but I'd do it." Pam shrugs.

"Such a shame, Poovey. I'd treat you right." You emerge from the large office with the rest of the agents in tow.

"So, Y/N... What's your grip strength?" Cheryl asks with a lustful voice, earning an eye roll and/ or a head shake from everyone else.

"Uhh," you hesitate. "I reckon it's okay. I can break a neck with one hand in the right position. That's first-day stuff." You shrug.

"Splooshhh..." The promiscuous, insane woman whispers.

"Right..." Archer blinks. "We need to get on a plane if we want to be drunk enough by the time it lands for this mission."

"I hate to say it, but he's right, sort of." Agent Gillette says. "We need to head out quick."

Mission:

> Locate storage disk [SD1650]

> Lethal force permitted

> Island compound -LOCATION-

> 4 entrances

> *Heavily* guarded

You reread the screen a few times, familiarizing yourself with the interface. You and the team have been tasked with locating a specific disk. On it is a plethora of society-collapsing findings along with unlabeled launch codes and other various, haphazardly stored data. It's a ticking time bomb of secrets, lovingly named SD1650.

"So, how long have you been in the field?" Archer suddenly appears before you, whiskey glass in hand, full to the brim.

"A long time, Agent Archer." You smile, keeping a formal boundary between the two of you. He's no doubt handsome, but you know better. He seems to take the hint, adjusting his tie before changing the subject.

"This mission's a little intense for your first go- uh, with us, I mean." He leans back coolly, assuming a stance to convey ease.

"I think it's a perfect chance to learn how you all work as a unit. I'll get to learn my place in the mix." You're optimistic, and it's music to Ray and Cyril's ears.

"I never got a chance to introduce myself. I'm Agent Cyril Figgis," he proudly announces, placing himself in the seat next to Archer, who also faces your seat in the private jet.

"A pleasure to be here, Agent," you shake his hand, to Archer's annoyance.

"You don't have enough hours in the field to be an agent yet, Cyril." He turns to face you. "Cyril's a secretary."

"Accountant, you dick."

"Well, this has been an absolutely scintillating conversation, men. But I'd really love a chance to get familiar with the mission before we land." You kindly dismiss them, but only Cyril has the common sense to leave. Archer remains seated, regaling his many accomplishments to you.

After a few hours, the plane lands at a small, discreet airport several miles from the compound you're meant to get into. You and the others gear up and head up the mountain on ATVs. After about an hour of driving, the team transitions to on-foot.

"How far away is the compound?" Cyril asks, seemingly already struggling.

"Would you please shut the fuck up already!" Lana snaps and the group falls quiet. "Sorry," she turns to you. "You gotta nip that one in the bud or he'll complain the whole time."

"Hey!" Cyril whines, but Ray only laughs, adding that her statement holds plenty of truth. You feel a slight sense of relief after this small exchange with Lana, be it at the expense of Cyril, after Archer already planted the seed of competition in her mind. After a long, rugged trek, the first entrance to the compound can be seen through your binoculars.

"It's the loading dock. Two trucks just entered." You report everything you see. "The doors are never open for more than a few seconds for each vehicle."

"Let's find the other doors before making any plans." Lana leads the team further up the mountain. The other three doors are located and scoped out. Ray and Cyril take the loading dock door and then Ray will break off to cover another entrance only a few yards away. Lana will cover the seemingly "secret" entrance hidden in foliage at the base of the compound. You will cover the main entrance where Archer will infiltrate further inside and acquire the disk.

"Before it's all over, I want you," She points to Cyril. "-back at the bottom of the mountain sending the flare. That's our only way out and it has to be timed perfectly."

"I'm so sorry for what I'm about to say here, but if it's that important, why are we leaving it to Cyril?" Ray asks with genuine concern. The accountant can only roll his eyes at this point.

"Because he'll be the closest." It's not the pep-talk he expected, but he'll take it. "Y/N, you're with Archer." She dismisses the two of you and you diligently file into the forest behind the broad, dark-haired man.

"Let's cut through up here," Archer points to a barely beaten trail off the slim track you'd been following.

"But Agent Kane said-"

"As much as she'd like to believe otherwise, Lana's not in charge." He laughs, taking a sharp turn off the path. You try to follow quickly in the pitch darkness as the trees weave in and out, blocking any spotlights outside the compound.

He completely veers from the plan, charging the entrance and skillfully taking out each guard with his silenced gun. You watch in awe, taking out two guards as they sprint up the stairs to the entrance you're invading. Once the coast is clear, you stand guard at the door, ready, like Lana planned.

"Goddamn it, Y/N. Come on," Archer laughs, grabbing your bicep and tugging you along with him as he storms inside. You don't have time to think, let alone protest, so you start shooting. You were top of your class in riflery, and your aim with a pistol isn't too bad either. Archer watches you with sparkling eyes, admiring your aim as well as your appearance. It's not unlike him to mentally undress someone in the heat of gunfire.

"Let's go!" You yell over the commotion as it fades to near silence after you successfully kill the last guard. Both of you find yourselves in a long hallway lined with unmarked doors. "Oh, fuck me," you huff.

"We'll discuss that later. Start kicking doors in." You can't help but laugh at his vulgar joke. The sound of it ignites a feeling in his stomach he's not always used to. A fleeting sense of something heavier than lust, but lighter than love. The most he's ever able to feel for someone other than himself, it seems. You could read that on him from a mile away, seeing as you do the exact same thing.

You each take turns bursting through each door. Some require taking out the occupants, and some are merely storage or conference rooms. Finally, at the end of the hall, one room has another door inside. "It's always the last one you check, right?" Archer asks, kicking the door in, though it is clearly unlocked. Inside is a dark, empty office. It's huge and lavishly decorated. You flip a switch on a lamp and waste no time before rummaging in every drawer.

"Here!" You call to Archer, lugging a hefty safe onto the desk.

"Stand back." He points his gun at the combination dial.

"No, wait!" Your protests are cut off by the dulled sound of his firearm firing a bullet into your arm. The bullet ricochets off the safe and plunges deep into your skin. "Oh, you fucking asshole!" You roar in pain, holding your arm as it gushes.

"Holy shit!" He exclaims, dropping his gun on the desk. "It worked." He opens the safe and withdraws a floppy disk labeled '1650.'

"Nice job, dick head. Let's get out of- ahh!" You whine at your feeble attempt to move your arm. "The bullet's still in there. You have to get it out."

"What? Are you serious?" He laughs in disbelief. Let's just go-"

"I can't shoot with my arm like this. Get your knife out and carve this fucking bullet out of my arm!" Archer's eyes widen, but he does what you command. With a large buck knife, he gouges the bullet out and wraps the gushing wound. Instantly, your arm feels some semblance of better. "Any word from the others?"

"Not yet-" just then, an alarm sounds throughout the large building and every main hall is secured with large, automatic, metal doors. For hours, every pair of hands on site wielded a gun and a thirst for ISIS blood. They swept the whole compound, everywhere but the office.

An hour passes and you're locked in the room together. "Damn," Archer sighs, going through every single drawer and cabinet he can find.

"What is it?"

"I found a bottle of Vicodin, but," he shakes the bottle. Silence. "Empty."

"Poor baby," you roll your eyes.

"They were for you, idiot." He laughs, taking a seat next to you as you take this extra time to tend to your wound. "Sorry about that, by the way."

"It's fine. Comes with the territory, I guess. Though it's more something I would've expected from the numbers guy."

"Cyril? Oh, come on." You laugh at his distress and something about the heat of the moment seems to bond you two. In your boredom, you each begin to share small spectacles into your childhoods. He grew up rich, you grew up poor, but you're both familiar with neglectful parents. That unmistakable fuzziness in his stomach seems to swell. To sit next to a beautiful woman who sees through him and understands his upbringing, even to an extent, is all he could've hoped for.

For just a second, the hyper-sexual front he keeps up is dismissed. He's just being open, and even he isn't sure why. Maybe it's the proximity to death, or just the need to vent to an unbiased ear. You don't know him well enough to see all the self-sabotage.

"Sand? You put sand in your valet's eyes when he...?"

"No, I just say I'm going to." He laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world. "He just always looks," he breaks for a chuckle. "So scared!"

"My God..." You sigh, feeling the intense throbbing grow in your arm. Suddenly, a voice comes over a distant intercom, informing the guards and workers that the threat has fled but to keep an eye out. After the voice is finished, the metal doors begin to slowly lift. "Archer, look!"

"I got the disk. Cover me." You do as he says, keeping an eye on every angle possible. You save his ass at least four times before either of you reach the door. Just as he's about to slip outside, he's tackled to the ground. The two men wrestle for a moment, moving too much for you to get a clear shot. You finally fire and hit the guard, allowing Archer to finish the job, but as soon as you turn around to shoot someone silently sprinting up behind you, your magazine clicks. Empty.

In the few seconds it takes you to retrieve your TEC-9, you're tackled and painfully slammed to the ground. Archer's halfway to the woods, expecting that you're right behind him when he hears you scream his name as you're dragged back inside the compound. He watches in horror from the treeline. You've been taken prisoner.

~~~Back at ISIS

"What do you mean 'taken?'" Malory exclaims.

"We were right there-" Archer gets cut off by Lana.

"Why was she inside at all? She was supposed to be watching the door." She shifts her weight onto her hip.

"I... I took her with me." He admits, taking a shameful sip from his glass of whiskey.

"Jesus Christ, Archer. Does anybody listen to me?" Lana throws her arms up. "Will she talk?" She asks Malory.

"This isn't her first rodeo. I don't just hire new agents willy-nilly; there's a process! Still, I don't know her well enough to answer." A silence falls over the room. "Well, she's probably dead now. Back to work." Malory waves a dismissive hand and the other agents raise an eyebrow at her cold nature, but they exit her office just the same.

"Is she serious? We're just not going back for her?" Ray asks, concerned more for the fact that it could've been him left behind so easily.

"I... Guess not." Lana feels a tinge of guilt, but the job requires sacrifice. "I just hope it was quick."

~~~In the Prison

"Who do you work for? Quickly, quickly!" The man holding you hostage asks with a wicked voice. You slouch in the chair you're tied to, catching a breath from the vast beating that just ensued.

"I work for myself! I wanted to steal the disk and sell it," you cough. "Sell it to fuckin' domestic terrorists." The man nods to his goon and you receive another harsh punch to the abdomen. The air is knocked from your lungs before you get a chance to fully recover. A cry of pain escapes your lips, but nothing more. No information. No names.

"We know you had a team with you. Try your best not to piss me off unless you want to get mailed home in seventeen little boxes."

"Seventeen is such a specific number," you cough. The man signals for another punch. You take it as best as you can, but your inability to catch your breath brings you to the cusp of fainting. In your blur, you hear the man in charge say something to his minions.

"She's of no use to us like this, take her back to the box. Alive... For now." You fade into unconsciousness.

~~~Back at ISIS

"What are you doing? Why are you gearing up? We don't have a mission." Lana questions Archer as he layers on a bullet-proof vest and other tools on his person.

"I told Mother that if we didn't dispatch a search mission in two days, I was going back to get her myself." He's laser-focused, out of character for him.

"Y/N? Archer... You know how low the chances are that she's alive..."

"Lana, I'm the reason she's in there. I'm gonna get her out."

"You most certainly are not!" Malory appears from seemingly nowhere, a glass of cognac in hand.

"If it were me in that-"

"Well, it isn't! Don't be an idiot, Sterling." She takes an annoyed sip from her glass.

"Fine. I won't go," Archer folds, allowing his bag to fall off his shoulder and onto the floor.

"Good. I wish you'd put this much energy into an actual mission." His mother hisses as she walks away. Archer turns to face Lana.

"Oh, no. No, no, no," she steps away.

"Lana, you don't know anything. You didn't see anything. That's all I ask." He grabs his things. "You owe me."

"Leave me out of whatever- wait, I owe you?" She raises a brow, popping her hip out with attitude. "Owe you for what, exactly?"

"I don't know yet! Damn." Lana rolls her eyes at him and leaves the room for deniability.

After a few agonizing hours, Archer's small charter plane lands on the same island where you're being held. Following the same rogue procedure as before, he leads himself right to the door. The guards have nearly doubled, which is confusing considering how many were killed by the whole team. He's going to have to be careful.

He spends an entire 24-hour period studying the guards' schedules. Once that's down, he makes a move. There's a 30-second window of time for him to get in with the least amount of gunfire, so he moves quickly. Once inside, he chokes out one stray worker and lays him off to the side, continuing further inside. He opts to go downward this time, away from the giant office they'd locked you both in.

He can't help but revisit that memory as he skillfully makes his way through the warehouse area. It's full of illegal weapons and ammunition being trafficked in and out of international waters. He's lost in thought about how vulnerable he became with you so quickly. And nearly sober too! Wow! As it all replays in his head, so do your screams. You yelled his name. The guilt nearly makes him stop to vomit, but he's too focused.

Archer encounters several adversaries along the way, killing and subduing each one. He's a force to be reckoned with and even he's confused why. What about a heart-to-heart with you made him so protective and accountable so suddenly? The peculiarity is not lost on him. He seems to process this aloud as he fights his way through the guards.

"It's not like I'm in love with her, or whatever," he says, shooting a man in the chest. "I just can't sleep at night knowing I-" he slits a throat. "Caused her to face hours upon hours of torture in this cave... prison." He snaps a neck. "You know what I mean?"

"I think that's just having a conscience," a man with both his hands raised offers shaky input.

"Maybe... But I don't usually do that." Archer sends a bullet through the man's skull. "Surrendering after shooting at my face is just asking to get headshot." He shrugs.

He makes his way through what feels like the entire compound until he reaches a sort of guest house inside. It's far too nice to be a prison, but maybe someone inside could answer some questions for him. Be it at gunpoint.

After everything, his hair is disheveled and he's taken a bit of a beating. As he trudges through the lavish halls of this built-in penthouse, he finds a serving tray with a whiskey decanter. As good of a time as ever, he serves himself a glass. After rolling up the sleeves of his black turtle neck, he securely grips his pistol, flexing his hand through the leather gloves.

Breathing heavily, he sweeps each room. They're all empty. He grows impatient, angry even. The reality of your death begins to slowly set in. Finally, he spots the master bedroom. Like a mountain cat ready to pounce, he stills his sudden movements until he's close enough to leap into the door frame, gun raised, scanning the room with purpose. That's when he sees you, lifeless on the staged bed.

"Goddamn it." He sighs, finally lowering the gun the rest of the way. He stares at you, your back to him. That's when he hears you groan. "Y/N?" He says, bounding over to you and rolling you onto your back.

"B-Bait, Argcher," you gurgle the mispronounced words out as best as you can.

"What?" He furrows his brows. He's too late to realize you're warning him. You've been heavily sedated and starved, left as bait for your team to come back for.

"We thought no one was coming for her. We almost began to believe she was working alone." A voice chimes from the doorway. Archer doesn't waste time turning around, he just points his gun behind him and starts firing. At least one bullet strikes the man, knocking him back. That's when Archer finally turns around. "Duchess, what a nice surprise." The man coughs out, gripping his bleeding wound.

"What'd you give her?" He points to you, wondering if you received an injection or a lobotomy.

"Enough to kill a horse. We thought she was dead. Like I said, you took your time-" his taunt is cut short by a bullet in his head. Archer sighs. Enough to kill a horse? He thinks to himself.

"Talk about high tolerance," he chuckles, pulling you over his shoulder. You garble some more words at him and make a sound that's meant to be a laugh. Guards will be flooding in any minute since he took out one of the leaders or managers or whatever their ranks are. One hand is extended out, firmly gripping the handgun, and the other is wrapped around your waist as he sprints back the way he came. Unnecessarily long, but it's the only surefire exit he knows here.

"On your mleft," you slur, and Archer shoots without even looking, killing the guard instantly. After a death-defying run, you can see the green of the forest flying by your blurred eyes. Finally, it's over. He haphazardly tosses you into the only other seat in the small airplane and demands the pilot take off right away. Once you're in the sky, you can hear them shooting at you, but their bullets miss, and eventually, they can't reach you at all.

The island becomes a small speck in the background, and finally, you succumb to the drugs, allowing yourself to fall unconscious safely. Your head lies comfortably on Archer's shoulder and he lets you stay there, even catching your head when the plane hits turbulence. He laughs with relief, no longer plagued by the very new-to-him sensation of guilt.

*****************

Author's Notes:

This fandom could be hornier. Just sayin'.

((Part 2))

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