05.08.2020

Hey guys! A bit of a disclaimer- I started writing this over five years ago, and it originally was a series of one-shots. If you like angst and K-Unit bonding, you might enjoy this! Although it follows a general storyline, it doesn't really have a plot. Consider yourself warned :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.

Alex stormed angrily in the office. "The hell?! You sent MI6 agents to my house to retrieve a rogue agent?!"

"If my agents refuse to cooperate and respond to orders, they are dubbed as 'rogue' until further notice," Blunt stated calmly.

"I'm not your agent," he snarled, hands white as they gripped the edge of the desk. If the head noticed the direct threat, he didn't show it. Mrs. Jones continued to wordlessly watch their banter.

"Quiet, Alex."

Alex ignored him. "I got back yesterday. I haven't had a decent nights' sleep in two weeks, and a decent meal since before that, and you want to send me on another mission?!" He ranted. "I'm not going on another mission until I get at least two weeks of leave." His refusal was reinforced by the glare he sent them.

He didn't see Mrs. Jones pressed a small button, triggering the silent alarm.

There was a moment of silence before the office flooded with MI6 agents. He didn't stand a chance against the senior agents- not when he was so clearly outnumbered. It wasn't long before he was detained.

"Would you like us to put him in a holding cell?" The lead agent asked.

Blunt's eyes never left the boy. "That won't be necessary, I wish to talk to him. You are dismissed."

The head agent nodded before leaving with the rest of the MI6 agents.

Mrs. Jones popped another peppermint in. The teen looked utterly defeated- slumped over, arms cuffed behind him to the high-back chair. She couldn't help but notice how the angle of his left shoulder twisted awkwardly back, dislocated. A bruise was already forming along his jawline.

He looked tired, weary, shoulders hunched over, head drooping forward. The spy was tense, still sensing danger. Heart sinking, Mrs. Jones realized it wasn't much different than the 'interrogations' he had had during his previous mission. He was immobilized, helpless, and at the mercy of a person he hated.

"That was unacceptable," Alan Blunt said harshly. "Understood, Alex?"

"Yes, sir," the broken boy answered quietly.

It was happening more and more often- him being beaten to submission. It was also taking less and less time for Blunt to do it- he didn't make idle threats.

"How is Tom Harris fairing?" Blunt expertly poised it as a question.

Alex's head snapped up at that. "You leave him out of this!" he snarled. "He doesn't have anything to do with this!"

"It really is a shame..." Blunt drawled on. "I heard it was a messy divorce, too many lawsuits involved. The Harrises' are significantly poorer, now. Gerald is trying to help out, but he has busy with college of his own- Italy, actually."

Alex began to hyperventilate, short, panicking breaths of air. "No! Don't-"

Alan Blunt gazed at him with a sense of boredom and disinterest. "It would be terrible if Mr. and Mrs. Harris were fired, their bank accounts wiped clean, credit cards expired and their son, Gerald, expelled and deported... all in one week. Quite coincidental, wouldn't you agree, Alex?"

The teen likened a wild animal, fire in his eyes as he writhed desperately in the the cuffs and-

The voices washed over him.

"Quiet, Alex."

"Be still."

"Sit down, Alex."

And... he stopped.

"What do you... want with me?" Alex asked stiffly, finally retaining a calm composure once more.

"I'm glad we have come to an agreement."

O-o-O-o-O

You must meet deadlines that are unreasonable and deliver results that are unparalleled. As a spy, you will always be owned by someone. You will always be desperate, and you will never be free.