"Alex, you didn't show for the psychiatric evaluation." Ms. Jones says, voice stern and eyes concerned.

"Psychoanalysis: method of dealing either psychic disorders by having a patient talk freely about personal experiences and especially about early childhood experiences and dreams. It's a noun and as of last time I checked I don't have a psychic disorder and am no way inclined to talk about anything personal with a stranger." Alex replies evenly, as cool and collected as is possible in the current situation.

She started her usual lecture on mental stability in all of her agents, even though Alex wasn't officially working for them. While she rambles on, he focuses on more urgent thoughts.

Just over a month ago, Alex gad watched Yassen Gregorovitch die on Air Force one, with the parting words for Alex to find his destiny by seeking out Scorpia.

The old Alex would have run foolishly to Scorpia with no plan and no real idea of who Scorpia was. Luckily, the old Alex died the same month that both Yassen and Jack died.

Jack had died, or rather been murdered, two days after Alex had returned home from Eagle Strike. MI-6 said it was some triad, and was now using it as leverage to send him on another mission.

It was pathetic how easily he could pretend that what they said was true. But he knew better than to take what they said at face value. He knew that it wasn't some triad, it was MI-6. Even now, he carefully planned when he would betray them.

"Alex, have you been listening to me?" Jones asks, thinking that she knows the answer already.

"Of course I have! Why would you doubt me?" Alex focuses his voice to sound open and childish, not even a trace of sarcasm present. After all, they could not doubt him at all, not until his plan was already in motion and it was too late for then to stop him.

"Fine, Alex, I'll let this one slide. As soon as you return, you will take one whether you like it or not."

"Fine." Alex says petulantly, keeping up the expected persona.

As Alex met the bank, all he could think was that they would get there's soon. Very soon.

The airport was as crowded as ever as Alex examined plane times. He already knew the flight, but he had to pull off his intended MI-6 disguise for his real plan to work. The actual flight he'd be taking would be going to Venice and the Scorpion head quarters that the city housed, and that he'd decided to target.

Actually, MI-6 had decided for him when Jones and Blunt requested that he help a agent pull of a particular cover ID. It was perfect... or as close as you could get to perfect in this line of work.

After going through the huge process that security was made into, he bordered the plane and pulled out his Russian book.

Whenever he did learn Russian, he couldn't help but think of the man that had given him the desire to.

Alex's senses were on overdrive, while still not alerting the agent that sat next to him. Both men wore expensive suits, but though they were the same color and design, it looked elegant and tasteful on Alex while looking simply awkward on the agent.

"Remember, as soon as we enter, we'll break up and both go to our respective positions to gather as much intel. as we can."

Alex nodded as the car stopped and they both exited. The agent walked to the entrance door with Alex quickly following from behind.

The ballroom styled place they were led to was filled with talking people. No one was dancing, though there was a few people brave enough to pick at some of the provided refreshments. It was big enough that few people realized when they joined the festivities late.

Mr. Brain or something like that headed over to converse with a fringe group, gesturing for Alex to do the same.

Instead, he surveys the room, easily pinpointing Julia Rothman and other important figures of Scorpia. Carefully, he makes his way to the group, all cool nonchalance and icy eyes.

"Excuse me, , nay I have a word with you and your... advisers?" Alex asks, quietly interrupting their conversation. Heads immediately whipped to where he's joined them.

"What are you doing, boy? Can you not see that this is grown-up business?" Alex doesn't even bat an eyelash at the elder mans remark. He'd heard much worse.

"Well, maybe the grown-ups would like to here what I have to say. And in this business, you should know that looks are meant to be deceiving." The man goes purple with rage, and Alex once again focuses his attention on Rothman.

"If it is so pressing, than you may tell us. However, if you are wasting our time..." She lets the threat hang in the air, Alex choosing to avoid it's existence.

"I would love to tell you a great many things. First, I think I will help you get rid of your rat problem."

"Rat problem?"

"Yes. I'll prove that you have an under cover MI-6 operative. He will be here in eight seconds, and he'll put his arm on my shoulder."

Sure enough, several seconds later and the agent joined them, hand painfully clamped down on his shoulder.

"Allan. I thought I told you not to bother anyone."

The agent was unconscious and in a chair at the table near by with Alex handing the group his I.D., a flash drive, and several surveillance photos.

"Who are you?"

"Alex Rider."

…...

Alex had been on Mologano for almost a month now, and he could honestly say that he was bored. What he hadn't learned before coming here, he now did.

So, here he was in a casual but combat oriented dark grey and black outfit, strolling around the grounds in such a way that screamed danger without even trying.

Suddenly, Alex catches a sight of a boat approaching the docks, so he changes course to head there instead.

"Hey, Ninja! How ya doin'?" The man driving the boat was Lenny Anderson, a.k.a. America. Alex swore as soon as he heard what the man had nicknamed him that if there was ever a hit put out on the man, he'd do it for free.

"Anderson. How's the Russian coming along?" Yes, that's how bored he was, he was actually tutoring crazy American sadists when he'd rather be torturing them.

"It's going good. I'm actually here to inform the director that this guy is coming in tomorrow."

"Really? What is his name?"

" Yassen Gregorovitch, or something like that."

Alex stops cold. It couldn't be... could it?

Alex was already leaning in the shadows by a near wall of the helipad. Emotions that he hadn't let himself feel in a while were racing through him.

What should he do now that Yassen was alive? Everything he'd done so far was because the man was thought dead... did him being alive change all of that?

Besides, his... feelings would never be reciprocated. Hell, the only reason he hadn't killed him all those times was a debt that he owed to Alex's father!

Despite the sounds of the helicopter that may be carrying Yassen, his stand or expression didn't change, but his stomach filled with razor butterflies.

The helicopter landed, with two men exiting it. One was average looking with a expensive gray suit that still managed to hang in all the same ways as a extremely cheap one. The other could only be one person.

Yassen Gregorovitch was as cold and deadly as always, and immediately managed to send Alex in a whirlwind doubt. Maybe he should not have come to see the man...

He didn't even glance at Alex, and despite the situation, he was proud that he'd managed to slip past the others notice, but that diminished when one of the students found him and told him that he was expected in the main meeting room.

Nodding at the messenger, he heads to the meeting room, not even bothering to knock before he enters.

Sitting around the table is several people he doesn't know, as well as some he does.

Most importantly, there was the man he'd been hoping to avoid: Yassen Gregorovitch.

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