Might feel a bit fast paced. Enojy.

Name: Alex Rider

Date of Birth: 13 January 1991

Family: John Rider (father, deceased), Helen Beckett Rider (mother, deceased)

Relatives: Ian Rider (uncle, deceased)

Gender: Male

Hair colour: Fair

Eye Colour: Dark-brown

Height: 177.8 cm (5 foot and 8 inches)

Weight: 70 kg (154 pounds and 5 ounces)

Physical Appearance: Rider has been described as a good-looking boy, with a handsome slender face that "would attract plenty of girls". He has serious dark-brown eyes and a slightly hard, narrow mouth, maybe a side-effect of his exposure to the world of espionage and assassination. Rider is well-built and slim, his slender frame hiding great strength and speed. Rider also has a tan, another side-effect of his exposure to the world of espionage and the travelling he has done (and his love and skill in extreme outdoor sports). Rider has a birthmark on his left shoulder. Rider is extremely fit and has the body of an athlete, which is noticeable but not dangerously so. Rider often wears casual clothing, alternating between jeans and trousers, t-shirts and short sleeved shirts, boxers and trainers. Rider permanently wears a small wooden bead necklace. Due to his experiences, Rider often seems older than he really is.

Talents: Rider is an extremely intelligent individual. At the age of fifteen he took several Mensa Intelligent Quotient (IQ) standardised tests, managing to get an average of 163, making him an exceptionally gifted boy. Rider took his General Certificates for Secondary Education (GCSEs) along with his AS (first year of A level) examinations. He is currently awaiting his results.

Rider was groomed by his uncle from an early age (to be a spy, most likely) from the day he could walk. As a result, Rider is quite skilled in many areas. He is known to partake in numerous extreme sports such a SCUBA diving, abseiling, mountaineering, snowboarding, kayaking, BASE jumping, skydiving, surfing, quad biking, canoeing, mountain biking, hang gliding and numerous forms of shooting sports. He is skilled at all of them, although due to the fact that he is still a student, Rider only does these sports a few times a year. Rider does quite a number of normal sports as well, including tennis, football, snooker, basketball and skateboarding. Rider is an excellent athlete, a fast sprinter and he can maintain as steady speed over long distance runs. Rider sometimes plays these sports for local clubs. In addition to the martial arts skills listed below, it was Rider's uncle who first taught him about pick pocketing, the human mind and slight of hand.

Rider, thanks once again to his uncle, is multilingual. He is known to be able to read, write and speak in fluent Gaelic (Irish), Spanish, French, German, Italian, Japanese, Russian, Cantonese, Mandarin, Arabic and Greek. It should be noted that Rider mastered the last five languages after his uncle's death. Like all members of his family, Rider seems to have a talent for languages.

The last of Rider's talents, and the one that has been most useful to him, is his exceptional martial arts skills, especially for one so young. From the age of five, Rider's uncle enrolled him into a Bujinkan Ninjutsu dojo, located just out of London. The basic curriculum of the dojo is publicised, but Bujinkan maintains a very secretive database of its students that has proven hard to get at. It is because of this the true extent of Rider's abilities are unknown. However, the basic outlines of the course Rider is studying are known. Because the Bujinkan Course is so extensive, Rider has many years, decades even, ahead of him before he can graduate and earn his menkyo kaiden (literally translates to "License of transmission"; it is given for one who has learned all there is to learn).

The course Ian Rider enrolled his nephew in was the Thirty-Six Teachings – this includes the Ninja Júhakkei (18 Ninjutsu Skills) and the Bugei Júhappan (18 Samurai Fighting Art Skills). The system of grading at Rider's dojo is slightly different than what is commonly used in other Bujinkan dojos. While other dojos start with the 9 kyú (grades), followed by the black dan (grade/degree) – of which there are fifteen in total before the level of menkyo kaiden is reached – Rider's dojo has adopted the Iga-ryú system of classification. The martial arts practitioners are divided into three classes: high/master ninja (Jonin), middle/experienced ninja (Chunin), and low/beginner ninja (Genin). This might have been done to reduce competitiveness. It should be noted that this is the same course Rider's father and uncle took, and both managed to reach the level of Tokubetsu Chunin (Highly skilled/special middle-class ninja).

According to recent surveillance, Rider is set to travel to a place just outside Tokyo, Japan, to meet Hatsumi Masashi, Bujinkan Ninjutsu Sóke (in Japanese culture the surname is said first; sóke translates to Grandmaster/Headmaster). According to what is known about Bujinkan Ninjutsu, a shinobi only travels to the sóke when the practitioner is a yondan (fourth grade black belt) and is about to be promoted to a godan (fifth grade black belt). It should be noted that practitioners are only advanced up a grade based on the collective amount of skills they have mastered, not simply one set of skills i.e. like only mastering the physical aspects of ninjutsu and not the intellectual. For a better understanding of what Rider has supposedly learnt, I would recommend the reader of this report to go onto the online encyclopaedia, Wikipedia, and reading the articles on Ninjutsu, Ninja Júhakkei, Bugei Júhappan, Iga-ryú, and Bujinkan. Rider's sensei (teacher/master/instructor) is the same one who taught Rider's father and uncle, and holds a menkyo kaiden. This is one of the reasons why information has been hard to get. The sensei is obviously very dangerous.

All of this combined information serves to prove that Rider was being groomed for espionage work. This choice of discipline, the shinobi way, proved that. After all, the meaning of the term ninja was to endure all of life's hardships using the skills available. Unfortunately, like all teenagers in this day, Rider is not patriotic. But then again, Rider has been manipulated by the system enough times to have good reason not to be patriotic.

Personality: Rider is a very independent person, most likely as a result of his parentless upbringing. Rider has a good-hearted personality and is a generally nice person, something that seems to have survived his contact with the cold world of espionage. Rider is very mature for his age, has shown good intuition, and handles situations with the care of an adult. Rider is generally polite and well-spoken, but when provoked he has shown to be a very quick-witted individual with a good sense of humour, things he uses to make jokes (perhaps to calm himself) during difficult situations to mock the appearance and characteristics of his opposition.

Relationships: Jack Starbright is the person closest to Rider. She is of American origin. Ian Rider employed her as a housekeeper when his nephew turned seven. Jack came to the United Kingdom to study Law, English and Art at Cambridge University. She was eighteen years old at the time. Since Ian Rider's death, Jack has been Alex's legal guardian. She is very protective of Rider, and their relation is more that of a big sister and brother than a housekeeper and a teenager. In the nine years she has been in the United Kingdom, Jack has only had two long term relationships. She hasn't had any other long term relationship (at the writing of this report) for three years. She is of average height, slim, has tangled red hair, blue eyes and a pretty boyish face. Jack is fluent in French, Spanish, German and Japanese, a result of Ian Rider's influence as well as her choice of learning courses. Jack also happens to be a sandan (third grade black belt) in Aikido and a nidan (second grade black belt) in Karate. Despite this, she felt quite useless when Rider was away on missions. This put a strain on their relationship for half a year, up to the point where Jack nearly left Rider to go back to the United States as the stress was getting too much for her to handle. Fortunately for Rider, he did not get involved with the Military Intelligence, Section 6 Special Operations Division (MI6 SOD) after his run in with Major Winston Yu. The two are now closer than ever.

Sabina Pleasure is another person who shares a relationship with Rider. It is primarily to her that Rider has shown an interest in, where females are concerned. Sabina met Rider at the Wimbledon Tennis Championships. She later helped resuscitate Rider after he'd had a run in with Chinese Triads in Cornwall. (Rider left England then and went to Skeleton Key with CIA agents.) She later invited him on holiday to the south of France. It was here her father was nearly killed while investigating multi-billionaire Damian Cray. These events led Rider to investigate Cray and ended in Cray's death. Sabina and her family moved to San Francisco. Sabina Pleasure has dark hair, blue eyes and a light dab of freckles on her nose. Sabina is a long distance runner and physically very fit. She loves rude jokes. Her father is called Edward Pleasure and her mother is called Elizabeth "Liz" Pleasure. She is a capable martial artist, a nidan (second grade black belt) with years of Tai chi chuan (commonly called Tai Chi) training. Sabina Pleasure has in the past shown romantic feelings toward Rider, but after Rider's run in with Major Winston Yu, when she visited Rider for a few weeks, Sabina has not had, apart from a few scattered emails, contact with Rider for two years. Sabina is a year older than Rider.

Rider is known to be school friends with Tom Harris. The two are quite close, Tom Harris going as far as to help Rider get into a SCORPIA compound in Venice. Jerry Harris, Tom Harris' brother, is also known to have had contact with Rider. The true depth of these two relationships is not regarded highly, though, as Rider would have too much sense to drag two innocent people into the deadly world of espionage.

xxx

The restaurant was in Knightsbridge. It was a small establishment, clean and obscure. It was located in the middle of the street, flanked on both sides by much bigger and brighter establishments. It did not have a sign on the front to say what it was called, simply a small blue flower. It was an iris. The men and women who walked in and out of the restaurant all looked the same, dressed as they were in grey and black suites, carrying black briefcases which undoubtedly contained boring paperwork, their expressions blank. In a posh neighbourhood like Knightsbridge where appearances mattered, the restaurant was avoided like the plague.

The restaurant, which was called – surprise, surprise – The Iris, was actually one of the many meeting venues in and around London where intelligence officials met. From field agents and analysts to department heads and politicians, The Iris catered for them all in the utmost secrecy. Each member of the crew had to go through a dozen security checks to be simply considered for employment, and then on top of great culinary skills, the prospective employee had to have basic combat training before they were recruited. In a place where some of the most important people in the United Kingdom might meet, protection was second only to secrecy.

Alan Blunt sat on a two seat table. As usual, he wore a grey suit, his hair was still the same shade of grey, his grey eyes were still emotionless, his grey glasses looked as boring and immaculate as ever and his life still looked basically grey. He hadn't changed a bit in the years he had risen to the position of Head of Special Operations. Opposite him sat a middle aged man whose temples were tinged with grey but whose hair was still relatively black. The man's eyes were an intense blue. His face was weather-beaten and his cheeks had the crease marks of a man who laughed regularly. He wore a floral Hawaiian shirt, a pair of khaki shorts and white loafers with no socks on. He was wearing wire framed corrective spectacles. His white teeth gleamed as he smiled at Alan Blunt.

"Are you sure you don't want to try the wine? It's excellent!"

"I'm sure, thank you," Blunt murmured. He looked down at the seemingly innocent manila folder on the table. He had read the contents three times, just to make sure he'd understood and also to memorise the facts.

"Why so grey, Alan?" the man asked cheerily as he downed his glass of a three hundred year old wine like it was water. He refilled his glass to the brim. With his background, he could afford it.

"What am I to make of this?" Blunt asked the man.

The man shrugged. "You should have known this would come to bite you in the arse one day, Alan old chap," he said with the same cheeriness. "The government might give the public the idea that it's banding together in such times like these where the world has grown much more dangerous, but men like us know better. SS and SIS will always compete against each other for the Prime Minister's and the Cabinet's ears. DIS and the MoD will always secretly be plotting against the two agencies. Last but not least, JIC will always be too busy politicking and bickering among their selves to make fast and necessary decisions when they are needed. That's why people like you have jobs to begin with, Alan my man. This country needs intelligent, informed men to make the decisions other people won't."

"What am I to make of this?" Blunt asked once again.

"Make of it what you will, Alan," the man replied. "But the fact that, and I think you will pardon the cliché, but the fact that the world has been saved seven times by a fourteen year old boy in the course of eight months really ticked off quite a few of the Powers That Be. As expected, Pam's agents had no trouble digging into SIS affairs, and once they found their golden nugget … well, you know how this game is played."

"Indeed," Blunt agreed. "But the question is what is JIC going to do?"

"I'm afraid this is one of the few times JIC might actually act. But thank god for you and your SOD they can't act directly, especially after the Prime Minister and several high ranking officials vouched for your boy after what he did at that Chapel, what with saving all the 12-14 year olds in Britain. But this is still politics and that boy is trouble. Your use, or rather abuse, of him has made him a potential security leak that could really prove disastrous not only for Britain, but for the U.S.A as well. Joe Byrne used him as well, didn't he? It was a couple of times, actually."

Blunt nodded. "Yes. It was the Sarov incident, at Skeleton Key and at Murmansk. And then it was the Drevin incident; Ark Angel. So what is JIC planning?"

"Anything from your resignation, the boy's termination, to a complete shut-down and overhaul of SOD. It's anybody's guess, really. It's understandable why you did what you did, using the boy, but we live in an ethics driven twenty-first century. One leak of this to the media and we'll be screwed every which way from Sunday."

"Charming," Blunt actually joked. Things were definitely serious.

"It's the truth," the man said as he downed his glass and refilled once again. "There is going to be a reckoning for this, and if I were you I would get that boy on my side. His profile is highly interesting. If only all our agents could be like him…"

"Ian was always a smart man," Blunt murmured as he looked down at the manila folder. He looked back up again at the man. "Where did the boy's profile come from?" Blunt knew what the answer was but he still needed confirmation.

"Pam," the man said. "She was doing a little Irish jig last time I saw her. SIS looks like a house of cards at the moment, and she's the wicked wind of the west. What are you going to tell your boss?"

"The truth," Blunt said. "The boss already knows quite a lot, but this profile will definitely be of interest. The boy has been of more help than he knows. He's cracked open SCORPIA, killed two of their executives and enriched our information database over his short career. The boss is actually a little infatuated with the boy, if you ask me. SIS will deal with the fall-out when it comes. But what's interesting me more than the infighting is this new organisation you've compiled information about."

"It's hardly hardcore facts," the man scoffed. "More like rumours I've collected. But what we know about this organisation is enough to warrant careful treading and more investigation. Last time I checked, this particular business would fall under SIS and SOD jurisdiction."

"Yes," Blunt said. "Thank you for the tip."

"Tips," the man said. "Plural. You're an old friend, Alan old bean! Besides, you were always more fun to be around than that scary wife of yours, Pam!"

xxx

- SS is the Security Service, which is also known as Military Intelligence, Section 5 (MI5). It would seem that the Head of MI5 is Pamela Blunt, Alan Blunt's wife.

- SIS is the Secret Intelligence Service, which is also known as Military Intelligence, Section 6 (MI6). SOD is Special Operations Division, which is headed by Alan Blunt.

- MI5 and MI6, HQ located at Thames House and Vauxhall Cross respectively, in London, have always had a rivalry. The fact the Pamela Blunt is the Head of MI5 and Alan Blunt is Head of SOD is quite interesting as such conundrums are usually avoided by those in power. MI5's parent agency, the Home Office, and MI6's parent agency, the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, would have had to have very good reasons to allow a couple to work like this.

- DIS is the Defence Intelligence Staff, which is an element of the MoD – Ministry of Defence – is responsible for collecting and assessing all-source intelligence for the preparation of intelligence products and advice to government policy. DIS advises the MoD and the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, ergo MI6. DIS is usually filled with militaristically minded people, where as MI5 and MI6 is filled with spies. The two types of people rarely get on.

- JIC is the Joint Intelligence Committee for the U.K. Its main function is to produce definitive top-level all-source assessments for U.K ministers and senior officials. JIC also agrees (provided the Ministers agree) the requirements and priorities of MI6 and GCHQ (Government Communications Headquarters), and it informs the work of MI5 and DIS. Most of the positions on the committee are held by proven civilians/senior officials/politicians. This is sometimes balanced by the fact that the Heads of MI5, MI6, DIS and representatives of the MoD have seats on the committee. However, the Heads and the representatives are still outnumbered as they refuse to work together most of the times, and when they do agree with each other their courses of action always differ.

xxx

California. A sunny place filled with the rich men and women of U.S.A. Unlike all of the Americans seen in Europe, the obese ones who look like their food has been piped in to their rooms all their lives and now they've been shipped off to Europe to go clog up Art Galleries, Americans in California, especially in Los Angeles and the obvious Hollywood, look like they've just stepped out of a movie. It's filled with exiguous men and women who look like they can't even support the weight of their own teeth. Healthy, tanned men and women were everywhere, always rushing and at the same time looking unhurried. The teenagers might as well have been the cast of "High School Musical". Gorgeous blondes and brunettes strutted around in the kind of outfits and with the kind of attitude that made grown men want to do things that were definitely illegal in every country of the world. The boys weren't any better, of course, what with their "give-me-what-ya-got" attitude to society simply to attract the girls they wanted. It was kind of a mating dance. A sick, twisted, horny, annoying, pathetic and completely disgusting mating dance. But it worked. They even made a TV advert about it. Got the above skills/qualities? "The only question is when can you start?"

Sabina loved it. For her, L.A represented a life she had never thought possible. Britain was all well and good, but L.A was where all the action was. It was reputed to be home to the nastiest stuff in the U.S.A and she loved it! Her dad, as usual, was up to no good writing a story. Her mum had decided to spoil herself whilst they were in L.A by going to all the shopping malls and beauty spas she could afford. Edward had hidden all the credit and debit cards that had more than a two thousand dollar limit. As for Sabina, she had an uncanny talent for wheedling money out of her parents.

Sabina felt hands encircle he waist. "Hey," a male voice said. Sabina smiled, turned around in the arms of the teenager and put her arms around his neck.

"What took you so long?" she asked. She gave him a peck on the mouth. "I was starting to think you'd run off with one of those Puerto Rican girls you keep eyeing on the beach."

"I would never!" the guy said. "They all have boyfriends," he added sourly. Sabine laughed.

"Serves you right. Now come on, we have shopping to do!"

"Ugh," the guy groaned. "I thought your parents weren't giving you any more money."

"A girl has her ways," Sabina said wiggling her eyebrows.

"Ugh," the guy groaned again. "Men weren't made for shopping."

"Be a man and suck it up!" Sabina said sharply as she led him away. The guy's expression flickered for a moment. In that instant a certain sixteen year old boy might have recognised him by the hard set of his shoulders. This sixteen year old boy would have recognised this hard set as a habit the guy always got just before lashing out, usually killing something. The two had met once, on an isolated island called Malagasto. But after a second the guy's guise slipped back on and he followed Sabina Pleasure shopping whilst counting off the time until the completion of his mission.

xxx

One week earlier…

Alex took in a deep breath. Tokyo. Eastern capital. That was what the name meant. It was such a large place. With twenty-three special wards or municipalities – formally known as Tokubetsu ku (special wards) and more commonly known as nijúsan-ku (twenty-three wards), Tokyo – Greater Tokyo and Tokyo Metropolis – is one of the biggest cities in the world. He had come to Japan five times with his uncle, twice to Tokyo, once to Osaka, once to the island of Kyushu and once to the island of Shikoku. Technically the twenty-three wards were cities in their own right, but they all added together to make what was known as the city of Tokyo. With such a large area, one thing Tokyo couldn't do without was its Yamanote Line, the railway that went round most of inner city Tokyo. This was what he would be using to get around for most of the day until he left for the dojo.

"It's so … crowded."

Alex turned round, a big smile on his face. "This is Tokyo, Jack. It's always crowded. But isn't it just beautiful?"

"It certainly looks … flashy," Jack commented. Alex laughed again. Jack was surprised. Alex had rarely been this expressive in a while. He had gone back to being same old silent Alex after his run in with Major Winston Yu. To see him like this, laughing and smiling, happy, brought a smile to her face.

"That's only because we're in one of the more posh neighbourhoods. We're in Akasaka right now, and I recommend we find a hotel before we do any more exploring."

"Exploring?" Jack asked incredulously. "You're apparently fighting the last living ninja in about eight hours' time. Shouldn't you be, like, you know, preparing? Your uncle used to do it all the time, all those breathing exercises, refining his spirit and whatnot."

"And yet I can't help but notice that I'm alive and he's not," Alex said dismissively. Jack's mouth opened in shock at what Alex had just said. But then Alex turned to her, a smile on his face. "I'm only joking, Jack. Calm down. There is ample time to prepare. But I'm a teenager as well and I want to explore! I've never been shopping in Harajuku before. That's the teen district. All kinds of fun things are supposed to be there. I want to take you to Roppongi, maybe tomorrow night, I know you'll like it, and then now we can maybe go to Aoyama and Ginza and Yúrakuchó."

"You're a bit excited," Jack commented.

"There's always been something about Tokyo that makes me feel alive," Alex said. "Maybe it's the sheer amount of people there are, or the many things you can see and do. Tokyo is always full of new things."

"Well then, let's go." After booking into a hotel, Alex took Jack around Tokyo for five hours, going from place to place, doing all the annoying things tourists do. Alex was glad to see Jack actually enjoying herself. He would give her instructions later on how to access the Tokyo nightlife. She needed some relaxation time. She spoke perfect Japanese and her katakana, kanji and hiragana weren't half bad. She would enjoy herself. She deserved it.

x

Five hours later they were back in their two bedroom suite. Alex had just finished having a shower and was now wearing his uniform. He started stretching and warming up his limbs.

"Why can't I go with you?" Jack asked still pouting.

"Because you're not a Bujinkan student and therefore you're likely to be injured."

"Hey, I know martial arts!" Jack said.

"It's not that," Alex said as he jogged on the spot. "When entering Hatsumi sóke's dojo, everyone is required to play "dodge-the-extra-sharp-five-foot-katana" game. I've been prepared by sensei and you haven't. Whenever the sword is unsheathed, it has to taste blood or sóke will be shamed. I don't think you get to be a shinobi grandmaster by being full of shame."

"Sounds way too dangerous to me for simple black belt advancement," Jack grumbled.

Alex laughed. "When have things ever been simple?" he asked.

x

Alex stood outside the dojo. He took in one deep breath before entering. He bowed on his way in. All around the dojo, shinobi were sat down with folded legs, their eyes blank. There was no space for him to sit. There was only one option. He walked forward and sat in the middle of the dojo. He waited in silence for hours. No one moved. No one dared breathe loudly. His sensei was supposed to be here but he couldn't see him. He shouldn't have been surprised by that. After all, shinobi weren't meant to be seen.

And then suddenly the hairs on the back of Alex's neck shivered. He'd developed a fine intuition, which had been honed when he was fourteen during his missions for MI6. He had never ignored it and he wasn't about to start now. Since he had one hundred and eighty degree vision at that moment, it was only logical that whatever was happening was from behind. In one fluid, lightning fast movement Alex got up from his sitting position and leapt forward. He heard the whistle of something sharp cutting air just behind him. As he landed he turned round. There, a foot from where he had been sitting stood a white haired, frail looking man. He was wearing black clothes, his gi. He held a shining metal katana that looked sharp enough to shave with. Suddenly Alex felt apprehension. Maybe Jack was right. This was too much to simply gain a new level of recognition. This man in front of him was a grandmaster with decades of skill and experience. He only had eleven years worth of skill and experience. He was excellent with a sword, but his sensei was better. His sensei had graduated from this man before him. This was the same man who had been quoted saying, "Be able to kill all your students." Alex was in no illusion. There was no possible way he could avoid that sword for long.

But one of his annoying traits was how determined he could be. He never gave up. He wasn't going to start now.

He bowed. "Sóke," he said respectfully. Grandmaster. As he got up from the bow, he simply shifted his body to the right. He felt the sword pass bare millimetres from him. He moved forward, his right hand reaching for the sóke's right hand. Masashi-san seemed to melt into the air, his form a blur, and the next thing Alex knew the sóke was five feet away. His technique had been neutralised even before he had executed it. Shit. This was going to be fun … not.

x

Two hours later…

"Welcome, Alex-kun," Masashi-san said softly.

"It is a pleasure to be here, sóke," Alex replied. His body was sore from all the exercises the sóke had made him do, but for all that he was pleased with himself. He had performed to his best standards.

"You are an eager shinobi from what your sensei tells me. As talented as your father and uncle from what I observed and maybe even more so."

"You knew my father and uncle?"

"I tested them like I am testing you now." Alex did not enquire as to what this meant. He sat in silence until the sóke gathered his thoughts. "You are a problem, Alex-kun. I know you possess the skills necessary to be godan, or chunin as your sensei calls it. But I am not sure of your heart. I have friends in the Kempeitai, the Japanese Secret Service, and I have heard rumours about you. Your father and uncle both killed by a terror organisation, you yourself threatened by them. I am wondering how long you're going to live your life before you snap and turn into one of them."

Alex was speechless. But then again he was talking to a shinobi grandmaster. He shouldn't be surprised that his entire life was an open book. "I have not worked with MI6 for over two years," Alex answered. "I never wanted to and I never will. All I want is to lead a normal life. Spying is not for me. I did what I did at the time because I had no choice, or at least I had no choice I thought a suitable solution."

"What do you want to do when you grow up?"

Alex blinked at the seemingly random question. "I'm not sure," he finally said. "I had thought of being a professional sportsman but I am now against the option. Instead I want to be a scholar of some kind, perhaps be a professor of Language and History. I have often wondered about Japanese history and would enjoy spending a few years here studying it and maybe document it. I have seen too much violence and mayhem to want to be a part of it."

"But you have the skills to stop that violence. Your father and your uncle had the skills as well and they went out and did their best to stop it. Why don't you?"

Alex was confused. "So you want me to be a spy?" The sóke's hand blurred forward and Alex bit back a cry of pain as he was hit on the head. Hard. His vision went blurry.

"That is not what I said," the sóke said. "Do not presume." "Being drawn into that world might make you into an assassin of some kind, something you obviously don't aspire to be. But not doing something is against both your nature and training. We shinobi are trained to be humane and be in tune with nature above all things, otherwise most shinobi would simply use their skills to conquer weaker men. You have the power to do something but you're not going to do anything. If you do decide to do something, however, you know you will turn against those who have used you, be it in a day, a week or a year. When you do, you will hurt both the good and bad people."

"An impasse," Alex murmured as his eyes refocused.

"Indeed" The sóke went quiet for several minutes. "You are now a godan level shinobi," he suddenly said. "But I want you to come back and we shall continue this conversation after you have had some time to think." He paused. "It's never too early to plan for the future," the sóke added with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Hai, sóke," Alex said. "Arigatou." Yes, Grandmaster. Thank you. Alex touched his forehead to the floor. When he raised his head the sóke was gone. He smiled. I've got to learn how to do that, he thought. It's so cool. He stood up and left the sóke's private study and made his way back to the hotel.

x

Masashi-san walked into his private garden. It was nearly midnight. There was no moon in the sky and very little stars. This did not deter Masashi-san at all. He was getting old anyway. He did not rely on his sense of vision. He was a true wraith, a tribute to his ninja title of Grandmaster as he glided through his garden without disturbing even one creature. He stopped by a strawberry plant and plucked one. It was quite sweet, but not sweet enough. He needed it just right for his special home-made fruit flavoured pie. They always sold well in Tokyo, at his surgery.

"You really don't think I can't sense you, do you?" the sóke said as he examined his shrubbery and herbs. For a second there was silence.

"I had hoped I had gotten better, sensei." For the first time in decades, the sóke was truly shocked. Masashi-san slowly stood up from his crouch and faced the direction of the voice. His face was blank.

"I thought you would be a little more welcoming, sensei," the voice said.

"That was always your problem," Masashi-san said. "You presumed too much. You are not the prodigal son returning home."

"… You're right. Please forgive me."

"What do you want?" Masashi-san asked.

"Just one bit of information. The boy who just left. What grade is he?"

"According to his sensei, the boy is a chunin," Masashi-san replied nonchalantly. Bujinkan did not use this method of grading so it would most likely mean nothing to the man. The other man looked at the sóke with hard eyes for a second before smiling.

"Thank you," he said. So he knew what that meant. Shit.

"Why do you want to know?" Masashi-san asked.

"I'm afraid he turned out rather different to what I had expected." The man turned around, and for a second his body was visible; blond hair; close cropped hair; smooth face; clear, hard blue eyes; expressionless face with almost feminine eyelashes; chiselled lips; and a long thin scar on his neck. In the next second the man had been swallowed by the shadows. The sóke sighed. He looked in the distance and saw the lights of Tokyo. He suddenly felt the presence that had been itching at him disappear. The man was gone. Masashi-san shook his head and went back to his gardening.

xxx

"I can't wait to meet your parents, Jack," Alex said.

"Why is that?"

"To see the man and woman who brought you into this world … my money is on them having early onset dementia."

"Ha, ha," Jack said sarcastically. "Aren't you Mr. Hilarious?" Alex smiled and the two walked out of the airport.

"So why are they in L.A again?" Alex asked. "Not that I'm not happy to spend a week in sunny California."

"Why else would people be in L.A?" Jack asked. "Vacation."

"I'm sure there are other things to do besides tourism in California…" Alex shut up as Jack gave him the glare. They'd both seen the TV advertisement back in Britain. It had the governor of California in it, good old Arnold Schwarzenegger. He even said the catchy line at the end. "The only question is when can you start?" "Fine, you might have a point," Alex said with a frown. He did not like losing arguments to Jack. Verbal sparring was a game between the two.

The two got to their hotel and left their language. From there they took another taxi into downtown L.A, passing the Santa Ana Freeway. Their destination was, of course, Little Tokyo. Like Alex, it seemed Jack's parents had a thing for South-east Asia. In the previous week they had been in Chinatown. Alex had seen Echo Park on their way there and couldn't wait to go explore the first suburbs of L.A. He wanted to go to MacArthur Park later on. The sun was shining and the seemingly evergreen tress and lake would look lovely. Perfect place to pick up some birds. If his friend Tom found out he'd been to sunny California and hadn't even sampled the local delights… Well, it would be a hard few weeks.

"So how was your night alone in Tokyo?" Alex asked nonchalantly.

"Fine," Jack answered. "Tiring. Drunk. There were so many things to do. I was glad to fall into bed and sleep. Thanks for not waking me up."

"No problem," Alex said. "I'm glad you had fun." He paused. "You know," he added with a feigned expression of confusion, "The funny thing is that I came back earlier than expected, so I went straight to bed so I wouldn't spoil your night. Maybe it was the exhaustion, but I swear I heard you come in at around midnight – and for about thirty minutes there odd sounds vibrating through my wall – and then I think I heard you leave. You came back two hours later; I know that for sure because you checked up on me. Hmm … it was very strange." Alex continued walking, a small smile on his face. Jack stopped as her face went white with shock. Now this was awkward. Alex, who was nine years her junior and more like a friend and a little brother, had just confessed to her he knew that she'd … had some back in Tokyo. Ahead, Alex started laughing. Jack's cheeks started to turn the colour of her hair. Alex turned round. He winked.

"I didn't think some so old would still have it in them, Jack," he taunted. "But I guess you proved me wrong." He laughed again as Jack's cheeks brightened by another ten degrees. "I can't help but wonder what kind of example you're setting, seeing as you're my legal guardian. I mean the charges that could be levelled against you. The simple fact of what people might say about you if they found out … well, I guess it's a good thing I'm a not a snitch, right Jack?" He had just ensured a month or so of free reign. Blackmail initiated. He was proud to be a ninja.

xxx

Sabina and her new boyfriend were walking in MacArthur Park. Sexy mums in loose fitting but surprisingly revealing tracksuits ran past or rollerbladed past or cycled past, trying to recapture the looks of their lost High School years. Sabina looked up at her boyfriend and found him gazing into the distance, in the direction of Little Tokyo. He looked far away. Sabina was then reminded that they had only been going out for a few days. It already seemed like ages. She couldn't remember how it had happened. One night they were at a party. It was one of Sabina's friend's from High School. He had been there, looking bored and trying to enjoy himself at the same time. There was something about him that had caught her eye. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it was there, pulling her in like a magnet. She'd started talking to him then. He said his name was Klaus. He was four years older than her. While he should have been at college parties, one of his friends had dragged him here. By the end of the night they were both drunk, unsurprisingly, and he's stuck his tongue down her throat many a time.

But unlike most boys at parties, he did call back the next day. By the end of their shopping and exploring afternoon they'd decided to try a relationship. They both had so much in common. Sometimes she actually thought he could read her mind.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Sabina asked. Klaus turned to look at her. His facial expression scared simply because he didn't have one. It was like looking at a corpse. And then suddenly there was a spark of life behind those black eyes and he smiled.

"Sorry," he said. "I was just thinking."

"What about?" Sabina asked. Klaus shook his head and didn't answer. Sabina decided to back off. After all, they'd only know each other for barely a week. These things took time, right? Sabina and Klaus started strolling in the Park. Sabina had one hand around Klaus' back, the other in the pocket of her denim shorts. As her eyes scanned the Park, she was lost in thought. Her eyes were unfocused as she let Klaus lead her. She looked at the lake. It was rippling in the gentle L.A wind. She almost missed him. Almost.

He was standing alone, looking down into the lake. Even though many people were passing by, he looked alone. His fair hair, still the same short length, moved with the wind. He looked tanned and she briefly wondered if it was because of the early summer vacation of Year Elevens or something far less happy and normal. He was wearing a black polo neck, its collar thick around his neck. He had on a pair of black trousers held at the waist by a black leather belt with a silver buckle. He wore flat, white soled black trainers. The soles were surprisingly clean considering this was downtown L.A and the streets weren't exactly winning the Cleanest Neighbourhood Award. On top of his clothes he wore a black-grey trench coat that came down to his knees. He only had the middle three buttons done, leaving his neck, clavicle area and south of his belt visible. She noticed once again that he was wearing a small wooden bead necklace.

It had only been just over two years since she last saw him, one year since they last talked, but he had changed. Physically he looked the similar but it was presence that felt different. She had nearly overlooked him. He seemed older. Looking at him now, if she didn't know him, she'd have said he was at least twenty. It felt just like the last time she'd seen. When he'd opened the door to his house in Chelsea, despite being a little shorter than her, she'd been struck by how much older he seemed compared to her. His eyes had been impassive for a second, and in that second she had been struck with the impression that there were things he'd seen he wanted to forget. Pain. That was the word for it. He'd been in pain. Looking over the lake at him she could still see it. Her mouth was suddenly dry. There he was, the person in her past she had tried to forget because of the danger that seemed to follow him around like a plague. Alex Rider.

As if hearing her thoughts Alex suddenly looked up.

xxx

Alex had been reminiscing about the past. So much of his life was screwed up. Because of his uncle he now possessed skills that might as well shout out SPY! He was smart, but loads of kids were smart. No, it was the fact that he could do extreme sports like a professional. It was the fact that he was a ninja. To most people nowadays it would probably make him sounded like a dreamer, someone who sat and fantasised about being a supernatural being. But being a ninja wasn't about flying or whatever it is Hollywood decided to say. The word Nin, as is ninja, from Ninjutsu was written in Japanese, in Kanji, comprised of two characters; the upper one reads Katana – which means blade – and the lower one reads Kokoro – which means heart or spirit. Put together they meant stealth, secret-ness, endurance and perseverance. The word Jutsu, from Ninjutsu, meant true or technique. People thought that ninjutsu was either about mythical people from feudal Japan who could do magic or that it only meant stealth and secrecy. This couldn't be further from the truth. You only had to study it to know that ninjutsu was about utilising the knowledge you had to survive life and all the shit it through at you.

His eight months working for MI6, doing their dirty work had scarred him. He could never look at life the same. Studying ninjutsu from an early age had made him harder, true, but it was still an innocent hardness. He knew there were dangers but he wasn't actually living those dangers. MI6 had forced him to use every scrap of knowledge he had to survive. After every incident they treated him like an inferior person, patronised him by making everything sound like normal circumstance and then they got rid of him until the next time they needed him. By the end he had found he couldn't properly integrate into normal life anymore. He had developed a certain pessimistic and sarcastic streak that just leapt out of him sometimes. He had gotten over that soon enough, but deep down inside he knew it was there, waiting. No matter what Alan Blunt said Alex was sure his parents and his uncle had never intended for him to be brought into MI6's world so early in life, if at all. Alex found it hard for a guardian to want that life for anyone.

Alex suddenly looked up. Danger was nearby. Alex would have loved to have something as obvious and as helpful as spider senses that tingled but he had to do with the intuition he'd developed over the years. Jack was with her parents exploring L.A. She'd be with them for the rest of the day. He'd assured her he'd be fine. He could go around L.A on his own and explore. He'd been invited to join them, of course, but he didn't want to intrude on Jack's private life. After finding out from ASIS about what had happened to Alex and how'd prevented Washington DC from blowing up and killing everyone, Alex saw the haunted look in Jack's eyes. She had never thought about losing her parents prematurely. She needed to reassure herself that everything was alright. She needed to spend time with them before she calmed down again.

Alex frowned. What was wrong? He surreptitiously looked around, not moving his head and letting his eyes absorb as much detail as they could. It was one of the things he was being taught by his sensei. A warrior might only have a second of calm to survey the battlefield and so he needed to be able to see and memorise all before he dived into the fray. Alex scanned the opposite bank as a likely place. All the time his mind was panicking. He couldn't be going back into that shady world, could he? He saw nothing. His frown depended. He searched slowly this time. He instantly saw what had triggered the alarms in his head and he also recognised his mistake.

Opposite him was a girl he hadn't been in contact with for a while now. It wasn't out of choice. He simply realised that she might not want anything to do with him, especially after how he always got her involved in bad situations. She had grown very well. Her dark hair cascaded down to her shoulders. Her smooth skin shone with the intensity only long hours in the sun and healthy living could bring. The freckles on her nose had mostly alleviated, making her seem more grown up than the last time they had met. She wore a white shirt that ended around her diaphragm in a knot. Her flat stomach was exposed for the world to see; she had a belly-button piercing. She wore a pair of blue denim shorts that made your eyes dart south periodically. Her trainers, with pink laces, were impossibly white. So were her teeth. Alex would have liked to stayed still and admire the view – and a view it was – but it was undoubtedly the one had his arm around Sabina that had triggered Alex's sense of alarm.

It was Klaus. From Malagasto. A Scorpia operative. What the hell was he doing here, with Sabina? Something didn't feel right. Alex actually groaned out loud, startling an old couple who had been stood beside him feeding ducks. This had happened before. Something smells fishy, he goes and investigates and the next thing you know - BAM! – He'd be knee high in a substance he'd rather not like to think about, trying to stay alive. For a second Alex actually debated turning around and walking away. This had nothing to do with him. Whatever Scorpia were up to, whether it involved Sabina or not, was none of his business. Besides, Klaus had to have a social life, right? He might have hit it off with Sabina somewhere. There was such a thing as coincidence sometime, right? But then Alex's nature kicked in. He couldn't leave Sabina with a Scorpia operative, no matter their relationship.

He realised that Sabina and he were sharing eye contact. She seemed shocked to see him. As Alex prepared to warn Sabina to run, Klaus turned to look at him. For a minute the German born mercenary seemed shocked to see him. Time seemed to stand still. Klaus put his other arm around Sabina. He jerked her up and sideways, pivoted on his back foot and twirled Sabina so that Sabina had her back to Klaus and Klaus in turn had his back to Alex. Alex's fast mind analyzed what was going on and he felt dread building up in his stomach. Some might have thought this strange. Why did Klaus not simply tighten his grip on Sabina when he saw Alex? That was because Alex wasn't the primary concern at that time. There was someone else who was at that moment more dangerous than Alex. Second of all, Alex realised that Klaus was protecting Sabina with his own body. That meant that Sabina was the "principle". It was Klaus' job to protect Sabina. But from who? Even as Alex judged the angles and worked out from where the danger was coming, he thought he heard a whisper in the air. An instant later Klaus' legs buckled and he fell on top of Sabina. Time resumed its pace.

Alex cursed. He looked in the direction of the shot. Just as he'd guessed, it was a long distance one, probably five hundred metres. But from which direction? He had no hope of working that out unless he knew the entry angle. The sniper was good. He'd fired a lethal shot from a minimum distance of at least five hundred metres and with reduced accuracy on count of having to use a suppressor or silencer of some kind. Alex realised he had no hope of finding the sniper. This left a mortally wounded – hopefully (because dead wouldn't be very useful) – Klaus to pump for information. Alex had seconds, minutes at best, before Klaus died. He had a small lake to cross.

Alex looked around, his eyes taking in every detail of his surroundings. Suddenly he spotted it. Alex ran a hundred metres to where a family were having a barbeque. While sausages and burgers cooked on the grill, two kids who'd gotten bored of and hungry playing were watching TV. Alex's target was the petrol – or gas as the Americans called it – powered generator that allowed the kids to have this luxury. He felt guilty at what he had to do but he had no option. The generator, an expensive MHD, was on a stand. Alex walked past the family, his body signals telling them he was just passing by, which he did. The first pass was so as to see what exactly the generator looked like. After five metres he suddenly turned and walked to the generator. The family was looking the other way, concentrating on the food that was about to be dished out, but that wouldn't the case for long. Alex's hands started working. Within seconds he had set it up right. Now to move on.

All this time a clock was ticking off in Alex's head. It had been twenty seconds since Klaus had been shot. Klaus had been hit in the middle of his back. One of his lungs would definitely be pierced. He was drowning in his own blood at that moment. Alex had to move! He started pushing the stand, it's small wheels bumping against the rough terrain. Alex started running. The cable connecting to the TV came off. The TV stayed on for a few more seconds, precious seconds that helped Alex get away. He reached the back in ten seconds, but that was too much time already. He lifted the heavy generator off the stand. Just next to him was one of those boats couples pedalled across the lake. Alex got in, the generator in his hands, one leg in each compartment. He knelt down, put the generator down in front of him and pushed off the bank. It was hard work and he nearly got caught by the man whose kids had been using the generator to watch TV. But Alex managed to push off and then proceeded to put the generator into the water. At the end, where the rotor was, Alex had stuck the actual rudders of the boat. The moment they touched the water the boat lurched forward.

Come on! Alex thought. Faster! But for all his intelligence and innovation, Alex was still human and not superman. He still had to obey the laws of physics. And so it was half a minute later that he got to the other bank. He had somehow managed to stay dry but that was small comfort. The boat hit the bank hard, harder than Alex had anticipated, and as the chock travelled through him the weight of the compact MHD generator got too much. He dropped it in the water. But he had no time to think about that now. He jumped from the boat and ran toward where Klaus lay.

A minute had passed. Sabina had gotten her senses about her again. She was trying to stem the flow of blood, but it was a useless effort. Klaus had a hole in his body – the bullet had gone through – and Sabina couldn't heal lungs with holes in them. She was trying desperately to cling to sanity. Alex realised that she wasn't used to this kind of stuff. For her the incident with Damian Cray on Air Force One might as well have been one of those random things that happen in life. It was never going to happen to her again. She had convinced herself it wouldn't happen again. She was wrong.

Alex came and knelt opposite Sabina. Because the bullet hadn't broken the sound barrier and had been fired from a distance, no one around Sabina had seen anything wrong. For them a young couple had been holding each other and then thrown themselves to the ground. Even now they didn't pay much attention to Sabina and Alex. For starters this was MacArthur Park and everyone lounged on the ground. Another reason was that this was L.A and downtown was only spitting distance away. People had developed a survival instinct. The golden rule; Mind your own business!

Sabina looked at Alex, her eyes red, the tears still coming out. The blame was coming off her in waves. "Alex…" she murmured. Alex recognised the outburst coming. She wanted release. He held up a hand, his face severe.

"Quiet," he commanded. The authority in his voice cut Sabina off. She looked shocked and lost. Alex ignored her for the moment and turned to Klaus. The man still had a pulse but it was ebbing away. Alex unbuttoned his shirt. Klaus had been wearing a bullet-proof. With the distance and logistics involved, Alex realised the sniper had coated his bullets with Teflon. The sniper was also a crack shot, finding the one angle that would be sure to make a definite kill. Alex unzipped the thin piece of Kevlar, allowing Klaus to breathe better. Klaus took in a deep rattling breath and half opened his eyes.

"You … should listen … to little Alex," Klaus stuttered.

Sabina may have been in shock but she was a smart girl. Action was blunting the shock. "You know Alex? How?" Even as she asked, she knew there was only one possible way. MI6.

"Don't … blame … little Alex," Klaus breathed. "For once … he was actually … in the wrong place … at the wrong time."

"What's going on, Klaus?" Alex demanded.

"Sabina … is my principle," Klaus breathed. Alex frowned. Something seemed wrong. "Priority mission." Klaus stopped talking, gathering his energy. "I'm dying, Alex. Take Sabina … please. Take all my … effects off me … the key … apartment … Chinatown …"

Alex waited for the breath he knew wouldn't come. Despite the fact that Klaus had worked for Scorpia, Alex felt a sense of loss. Klaus had been fair to him when they were at Malagasto. The German mercenary, who had only been eighteen at the time, had been closest to Alex in age. The other had been a nineteen girl called Amanda who had been quite friendly. Alex actually slapped himself. He needed to keep his mind focused. MacArthur Park was just west of downtown L.A and so quite there was some gang-on-gang violence that took place. MacArthur Park had a history that had only started to get better and so the LAPD had a section based near there to deal with it. The guy he had just stolen the generator from would call the police. Alex started going through Klaus' pockets, taking everything he found and pocketing it. He then zipped Klaus' Kevlar vest back on and buttoned the shirt up. He looked up to find Sabina staring at him, her eyes blank.

"What was he saying?" she asked softly. Alex blinked. Now he realised what had seemed wrong. Klaus had switched to German when he had been talking. Alex spoke perfect German, and with all the adrenalin pumping through his veins Alex had failed to notice the switch. What was wrong with him? He needed to focus!

"We'll talk later," Alex said. We need to call the police. Do you have a mobile? And we need to get out stories straight. Please, trust me." Sabina looked at him, her face unreadable. After a second she took out a pink Nokia and handed it to him. Alex gave her quick, short instructions on answering the police's questions before dialling 911. He didn't have to bother, though. The guy he'd nicked the generator off had gotten there before him. As he got patched through to the emergency ambulance service he heard the sound of shoes on the grass. They were trying to be stealthy. The cocking of a gun. Safeties off.

"Freeze, asshole!"

Just what I wanted to hear, Alex groaned. Jack's going to kill me.