AN: Hi everyone, as the summary said I'm currently editing this story with plans to finally finish it after such a long interruption. Uni kinda took all my inspiration away and to be honest, it is so weird not not to be writing lab reports anymore. Thank you to all of those who had faith and actually followed a story that hadn't been updated in years and I hope you enjoy. Please actually read the updated chapters as there has been some changes.

The next AN marks the end of the updated section (part 1)

Footsteps echoed from outside the confines of the stone walls. The whispering was incoherent to the ragged blonde haired figure. Huddled in the corner furthest to the door, vivid flash-backs infiltrated the youth's weakened mind. All former barriers that had held him stable through the trauma began to fall. Flooding the prisoner's mind with memories which swept away the physical pain… because the truth was, he would always be prisoner to his mind. And nothing could hurt him more than his own mind.

Angry desperation made one of the whispers louder than the rest. It was loud enough to be heard from inside the cell, loud enough to be distinguishable to the teenager. There was a familiarity to it for the boy. He knew that voice. He tried to pin point it, but he knew that there were too many voices burned into his mind. Voices of torturers, friends, allies, enemies and captors scared his memories painfully, and ability to analyze them all. Alex Rider passed out, still wondering if the voice was here to help.

The tall dark haired man struggled to keep his temper in check. He stood apposing to one of England's most reputable SAS teams, K-Unit. A team he used to be part of, not that anyone could tell. The S.O. Agent was an outsider. Unaccepted and downgraded in the opinions of the three men with him. Ignorant of his transfer; they believed he'd been kicked out of the SAS, binned. And most importantly that Fox had been too much of a coward to admit he was ousted. Right now that suited the agent just fine. Except for the small fact that it was delaying the rescue of his surrogate little brother.

Ben Daniels' patience snapped as another idea was rejected.

"Wolf, get your head out of your arse. We need a Unit Leader. Not another childish bloody tantrum."

The short dark skinned man turned on Fox. Showing everyone just how well his codename fitted him as he growled,

"You're not in our Unit anymore. This is our mission. YOU are here because you were visiting and the Sarge let you tag along. Now, I AM the Team Leader and if you want to be here, then DO WHAT I SAY!"

The 'visiting' was stressed upon with a strong sarcastic, bitter bite; it was unusual from the gruff man. He had completely misunderstood the circumstances of the trip to Brecon Beacons. Jones had finally ordered the recovery to go ahead, so Daniels had jumped at the chance to deliver the message and talk his way onto the team. The head of MI6 didn't care as long as she got her top spy back. Much to Daniels' surprise the Sargent had been quite sympathetic and agreed to let Fox back to be liaison to Special Operations.

Holding his tongue at the continued bickering, Fox swallowed his pride for the sake of getting things to happen. He schooled his face into a mask of indifference as he mentally sighed, 'If only they knew the truth, Alex...'

Three minutes and forty seconds sapped the remainder of the spy's patience. A strategy now devised and underway, the Unit split to tackle the two dark corridors. The first was being cleared by Wolf and Fox; they searched through the empty rooms before coming to the last cell. Where the haunting sight which welcomed them made both, seasoned veterans, pause to digest the nauseating sight.

A metal table sat as the central focal point. Steel shackles hung suspended from the stone ceiling and floor close-by. The table itself held a morbid display of knives, screw drivers, two different whips and a cat-of-nine-tails. Even the more mundane towel and water bottle appeared foreboding to the surveyors. Each and every item had red stains with no more than an hours' age. The older, dried pools of blood underneath the shackles left neither man disillusioned to the frequency of use this particular room had.

The radio crackled into life, interrupting any private thoughts.

"Shark to Wolf, do you copy? Over."

"Wolf here, what is it?"

His reply was growled back as his anger at the torture chamber became misdirected.

"We found something, well someone, more like a kid actually. Unconscious, with severe injuries he needs an immediate EVAC. Over."

'Alex!' Fox's brain yelled at him in a strangely paternal way. He to bite back the urge to grab the radio and take charge.

"Take him back to base. When he wakes up, question him. Wolf out."

Gracing Fox with a derogatory glare, Wolf motioned for him to follow as they went to reunite with the other members.