A/N: Hello everyone. Um...This is a new fic, obviously. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: "The Usual"

Brenson High Security Juvenile Prison

Chapter 1: Bullied

Alex Rider walked into the classroom, looking flustered. He was late once again.

"Sorry sir," he apologised to the teacher and the guest speaker in front of the room. "My bike was playing up."

"Sit down Mr Rider," the teacher – Mr Brown – said. "I'll see you after class."

Alex obeyed and took the only remaining seat at the front of the classroom, directly under the gaze of Sir David Friend. He had interrupted the speech that the knight was giving his classmates about politics and his own success story.

Sir David was watching Alex with interest, the young man looked different from the last time he had seen him. More withdrawn, more weary, and much older than his fourteen years. Alex looked like he wanted to belong, he was welcome by the group of children, but didn't seem part of the crowd. There was a well hidden air of loneliness and longing that he could just detect around the young man.

Strange really, the way that Sir David saw the group as a whole. To him, they were just a bunch of rowdy teenagers, even now, he could see a couple of them passing notes out of the corner of his eye. Then there was Alex Rider. The way he walked, his whole demeanour – even flustered – spoke of confidence and experience. He moved with the surety and dangerous grace of a large cat. His eyes were serious, far too serious, for a child his age. It was as if he had seen things – terrible things – that he couldn't forget, even had he wanted to. In no less Alex Rider was no child, though not yet legally considered an adult by age, he was one in experience.

These thoughts raced through Sir David's mind even after the class had eventually settled down again.

"Sir Friend," Mr Brown said, interrupting his musings. "If you would?"

"Oh you," Sir David replied, slightly startled. "When I was younger…"

He continued with his lecture, although his eyes never strayed far from Alex, for more than a minute.

Alex, on the other hand, after having recognised Sir David, tried to listen, but failed miserably. He couldn't stop thinking about the shot Scorpia had given him, about his misadventure out in space, about…well, about everything that had happened to him since the death of his uncle, Ian Rider. Try as hard as he might, Alex couldn't stop himself from brooding about his life. Besides, Alex knew more about Sir David Friend than any member of the public, and most government officials when it came to that, after posing as his rebel son, on the faithful mission where he was almost dissected alive.

Sir David watched Alex as his attention slipped and sighed inwardly. He couldn't even begin to think how much Alex had suffered. It was not only dangerous for the boy, but also for the government, should Alex be discovered and publicized.

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When Sir David finished his lecture, the class was dismissed, and Alex was left behind in his thoughts.

"Alex," Mr Brown said, when the children had left. "This is the work you've missed due to your last bout of illness."

"Thank-you sir," Alex replied, taking the pro-offered stack of papers.

"You may go now Mr Rider," Mr Brown said.

The two adults stood staring at Alex's retreating back, going to his next class.

"Who is that student?" Sir David asked, knowing full well the answer to his question.

"Alex Rider," came the reply.

"He's what? Fifteen? Sixteen?"

Mr Brown shook his head.

"Fourteen."

"Really? He looks so much older. Especially his eyes."

"I agree. Alex is frequently absent, and every time he returns, he looks older, and more withdrawn. Maybe even with a few cuts and bruises. He doesn't say anything about them, but everyone knows there's something strange about him."

Sir David nodded. "He is much too serious for one his age." Sir David though back to the polite boy he had just seen in class, as opposed to the rebel he had met only a couple of months back.

"There are rumours about his absences circumnavigating the school. Most of them are too absurd to be true," Mr Brown continued.

"Oh?" Sir David inquired curiously.

"Yeah, some say he's on drugs, while others say he's in a gang," Mr Brown elaborated. "And there's more. Some say he's in therapy, others say his injuries are the result of attempted suicide. The most outrageous one I've heard so far, by the more adventurous ones with vivid imaginations, is that Alex Rider is in actual fact: a spy!"

Sir David almost paled, buy managed to retain his composure. It was, after all, mere speculation, even if it did hit the nail on the head, perfectly.

But Mr Brown wasn't finished.

"Alex was a very good student, but ever since his uncle's death…Well you see hi now," he sighed.

"I feel sorry for him," Sir David said.

With that, Mr Brown and Sir David returned to the staffroom, each absorbed in their thoughts.

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Lunch break, Alex was walking with his best friend, Tom Harris, talking about Sir David Friend and his successes. Well, Tom was doing all the talking, while Alex listened in silence. This didn't bother Tom, as he was one of the few people to know the secret behind Alex's absences.

When a loud voice rang across the school yard, towards them.

"Look who's back. If it isn't the poor sick wimp, Alex Rider," Danny Malhead, the leader of the school bullies yelled, waving his finger from side to side to empathise the point.

Tom's eyes flashed in anger, and he stepped forward, ready to punch Malhead. Only to find himself restrained by Alex.

"I can't see anyone. Can you Tom?" he asked casually.

Tom blinked, startled, then decided to play along.

"No. I don't see anyone. Must be hearing voices," he replied.

By then a large crowd had gathered to watch the show.

"You're going insane!" Alex exclaimed good humouredly.

"Am not!" Tom protested indignantly.

The audience laughed in varying degrees of mirth.

Malhead was getting angry. He was used to fear or anger from his victims, not humour, nor to be ignored.

"Well, how else are you to explain the voices?" Alex continued. "Unless…you're Parseltongue!"

"Then I'll be Harry Potter and you're Ginny Weasley!" Tom said, enjoying himself, effectively forgetting the bullies altogether.

As luck would have it, Mr Brown was on yard duty, accompanied by Sir David, came by to watch the commotion, as the audience laughed at the duo. At this stage, Malhead was fuming. He had rolled up his sleeves, just as both teacher and knight arrived on the scene.

"Harry, you don't want me to perform my bat-bogey hex on you now, would you?" Alex was asking Tom playfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry Gin," Tom replied.

The crowd roared with laughter.

Malhead snuck up behind Alex, and gave him a shove; hard. Alex stumbled forward, then tucked into a perfect roll.

He emerged saying, "I wanted to join the circus once, but Jack – my housekeeper, for those that don't know – wouldn't let me."

That comment was met with more laughter from the audience.

"He sure knows how to hold an audience captivated," Sir David whispered to Mr Brown.

"The boy that pushed Alex is the leader of our current school bullies," Mr Brown explained, quietly agreeing with Sir David. "It is well known within the teachers' group that Alex was the one who did away with the previous ones at a meeting behind the bike shed."

Malhead was furious by the, and signalled his five goons to attack Alex and Tom. Mr Brown made to interfere, but Sir David held him back.

"I want to see how he handles it," he said simply.

"He could get hurt," Mr Brown hissed back. "Those thugs are so much larger than he is."

"He's more cunning," Sir David replied calmly.

Mr Brown reluctantly agreed.

Two of the goons headed for Alex, and two for Tom, the remaining one was undecided. Someone from the audience yelled a warning, and Tom turned around before seizing Alex's arm, looking pale.

"They're coming for us Alex!" Tom hissed.

Alex turned around, taking in the positions of the goons, and coincidentally spotting Sir David and Mr Brown amongst the crowd.

Alex turned back, saying loudly, "I don't see anyone trying to do us in. Besides, a teacher is watching."

Using authority, nice, Sir David thought, as Mr Brown walked to the centre of the ring produced by the crowd of onlooking students, no longer having a choice but to get involved.

"You had better stop this bullying this instant!" he ordered.

The undecided goon, at that moment, was closest to Mr Brown, and unwittingly tried to attack him. Sir David stepped in and pinned the thug down in three moves.

"Thank-you Sir," Mr Brown breathed, adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Are you going to save the boys?"

Sir David just smiled. "Only when it is absolutely necessary," he replied as the goons all began to attack at once.

Alex responded in the blink of an eye. He pulled Tom away from his attackers, causing them to miss, and blocked the punchers from his own assailants with precision.

"Tom! Stay back!" he ordered as he sidestepped one that was trying to tackle him, and tripped the thug over, causing him to land on – and injure – his knee very badly. The next one tried to punch Alex's nose, but Alex merely leant back, and powered his leg, right into his attacker's soft abdomen.

Two down, two to go, not including the one that Sir David had taken out, nor the leader – Malhead.

The two remaining goons decided to attack together, running towards Alex, punching their fists in front of them with every awkward movement. Alex sighed inwardly and elbowed one of them in the neck, effectively knocking the wind out of him. The remaining thug ignored his fallen companions and continued to launch his attack. Lumbering towards Alex, and tried to kick him. Alex moved swiftly out of the way and gave a quick glance at Tom and the crowd. They were all gaping at him with their mouths hanging open with awe. The goon took Alex's lapse in attention to reach out and punch him, but instead of the fist connecting, the goon felt a cold hand grasp his own wrist and pulled him further than the had prepared, and expected, to go. Alex swept his leg at his last attacker's feet, bringing his arm down at the same time. The goon fell, head over hills, and landed painfully on his back.

"Tom!" Alex called as if nothing extraordinary had happened. And indeed, for him, it was true. "Are you alright?"

"Um…yeah," Tom replied breathlessly.

Alex walked towards Mr Brown and Sir David Friend.

"Sorry sir," he apologised. "I hope you weren't hurt."

"No, Mr Rider," Sir David answered, keeping to the formalities. "I must thank-you for your spectacular show."

"Mr Rider, Mr Harris, Malhead and you five goons, come with me at once to my office," Mr Brown ordered.

"Sir, two of them are unconscious," a student from the crowd called.

"Ok, you two, bring them with you," he ordered the goon that Sir David had pinned down and the one that had an injured knee, and walked off with Alex, Tom, Malhead and the goons in his wake.

Sir David gave them a minute before following the retreating group, leaving the students to talk about Alex and the bullies.

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Inside Mr Brown's office, a tense silence enveloped the occupants.

Alex sighed again. He never seemed to be able to escape the clutches of violence. He couldn't go anywhere, or see anything where there was noting wrong. God, even his uncle's death had been suspicious, not to mention his parents'.

Alex had been prepared for the attacks. Ever since he had been shot by the most feared terrorist organisation, his senses had been enhanced, and since his escapade out in space, he had better control over his movements. He had also been in many, much more, dangerous situations before.

But there was something uncanny about the bullying incident, looking past the goofiness of the five goons. There was something familiar with the attack, with the ganging up. Alex sat in the office, thinking about this, only vaguely aware that Sir David had joined the, then only vaguely aware that Mr Brown was asking for a recount of the incident from Tom, then Malhead, even if he had been present at a witness himself.

Alex was only vaguely aware when Mr Brown asked him to recount the story. He heard himself answer, as if from afar. Then suddenly it hit him! It took all his self control to not yell out. Grief! Alex thought he had seen the distinguishing wave of the forefinger, emphasizing a point. But where? Now he knew.

As Alex was finishing his tale, a man with an easily forgettable face, in the 'boring businessman' range of clothing came bursting into the office.

"We had rumours of Dr. Grief's styles of workings replicated perfectly," the man panted. "Reported by Wolf no less. And, he has had experience with Grief."

"Mr John Crawley," Sir David began. "It is by my understanding that Dr Grief is dead, and all his…offspring have been round up."

"Yes, yes, Sir David," Crawley replied, flustered. "I had thought so too, as did my superiors. All fifteen!"

"Danny Malhead!" Alex suddenly exclaimed, having just thought of the answer.

"Alex?" Mr Brown frowned, as Crawley and Sir David looked at him expectantly. They were curious.

"Grief! You're Grief!" Alex continued, ignoring everyone but Malhead. "But you or your father, whatever, told me that there was only sixteen of you!"

"Alex?! What are you talking about?" Mr Brown asked, getting more and more confused by the minute, his head turning from Alex to Malhead to Crawley to Sir David and back again. Tom was doing likewise, he had heard a little bit about this mission, but it was strange to see something like it go out of control.

"I should have realised sooner," Alex finished, somewhat lamely, having not heard his teacher.

"Genius Alex Friend. Genius," Malheal sneered. "You, you killed my father, and one on my brothers directly. You caused the death of my other fifteen siblings. I want to avenge them, but it would seem that I have underestimated you once more."

Alex, Crawley and Sir David had instinctively surrounded Malhead/Grief, blocking off any escape that he might attempt.

"There are no more of you, I hope?" Crawley asked.

Malhead/Grief shook his head sadly. "I am the last," he replied honestly.

Crawley signalled to Alex, and Alex stepped forward, applying pressure to the arteries in the side of Malhead/Grief's neck, rendering him unconscious. Wolf suddenly appeared in the room.

"Sir!" he said.

"Would, you're here," Crawley began. "You were right about Grief. He was disguised as Danny Malhead here. Identity uncovered by Alex Rider."

"I'd expect no less for Cub," Wolf replied fondly, remembering the boy from training then again on Mont Blanc, as he heaved the unconscious form of the antagonist over his shoulder.

The five goons, by that time were all either fast asleep, or knocked unconscious. How they could be asleep like that, was a complete mystery. Wolf called in three other SAS agents with orders to 'take care of' the thugs, on Crawley's orders.

"Alex Rider, Tom Harris, John Brown and Sir David Friend," Crawley said formally. "If you will come with me. You are in need of a debriefing. Follow me please."

With that Crawley left with the four following in his wake, as soon as the SAS soldiers arrived. Each of the absorbed in their private thoughts.

Alex can surely look after himself, if that bullying incident was anything to judge by, Sir David thought. He kept his cool and remained in control of his emotions. The perfect spy, the perfect weapon.

I didn't know that Alex could fight like that, Tom was thinking. But I suppose he has to, considering that he is a spy and all. This is so COOL! I have to get him to teach me!

What in the world is going on? Mr Brown mused. What was all that conversation about? 'Grief'? Then there was something about offspring, and father and revenge too come to think of it. And what was Danny Malhead saying when he called Alex Rider, Alex Friend? It doesn't make any sense.

Here we go again! Alex frowned. Alan Blunt and Mrs Jones are sure to turn this around, and send me off into another mission. I really hate it when they do that! Everywhere I go, I'm haunted by them. I can't escape. My father and Uncle may have worked for them, but I don't even know whether they were willing or not, and now me! What did I do to deserve this? Alex sighed.

Each one was so rapt up in their minds that they didn't realise that they had reached their transport, until Crawley tapped them on the shoulders. The entered through the black door of the expensive black car. It was spacious within and set up like a meeting area. It also reminded Alex of the time he went to a Cabinet meeting with Blunt.

"Wold has gone ahead with Grief," Crawley was saying. "We will be arriving at the headquarters soon."

"I thought you said that you had solved the problem about Grief," Sir David repeated. "And now he has resurfaced."

"Well we thought we did," Crawley answered. "But apparently not. Alex?"

"What are you looking at me for?" Alex challenged.

"Come on my dear rebel son. Spill the beans!" Sir David teased.

"Fine, whatever," Alex responded. He was not in the mood for espionage. "I've told Mrs Jones about the cloning, and she told me you've done away with all fifteen. I'd forgotten Grief told me he had done sixteen, until the sixteenth, that was to take my place, came after me. He called me up to the school, pretending to be Mr Bray – the head teacher – and we fought in the science wing, causing it to blow up. A seventeenth was never mentioned. Happy?"

Ok, so we now know about a seventeenth," Crawley said. "There's little chance that there is more, is that correct Alex?"

Alex only shrugged in response.

"You know Grief best Alex," Crawley continued.

"Yeah, my parents died in a plane crash and my uncle died in a car crash, both suspiciously," Alex shot back. "Of course I know grief, but maybe not like you people."

"Alex," Crawley said in a no nonsense tone.

"Fine, yes you're right Mr Crawly," Alex snapped, his patience was wearing thin, and the prospect of a new mission looming over the horizon wasn't any help. "On both counts."

"What makes you say that Alex?" Sir David asked.

"Because the father was going to dissect me alive for his 'children' to observe in a biology class. So I would assume that he would keep only one of them away and safe, in the unlikely-hood that I ended up escaping," Alex explained.

"That makes sense," Crawley nodded. "Mr Blunt will need to know this."

A long brooding silence followed.

"Do you think you could explain what is going on here?" Mr Brown finally blurted out. "What are you talking about? What's 'Grief' about? And how is Alex involved and able to answer your questions? Oh, and more importantly, who are you?"

"My name, as you probably know by now, is John Crawley. I'm from the Royal & General bank where I'm a junior personnel manager for the bank, and Grief was a customer and that was an identification story that Alex told us. Alex's uncle used to work for us after all, so I thought it safe to assume that he would have told Alex the story," Crawley replied, and Alex could almost see his brain turning, working so fast to come up with that excuse for Alex's report on Grief.

"Right…" Mr Brown said slowly. It was obvious that he didn't believe the explanation though, no matter how well thought up.

"And what about that part with 'Wolf' and the SAS agents about?" Mr Brown pressed.

"Well, Wolf and the other operatives work closely and guard our bank," Crawley answered.

"If it was just an identification story, why did Alex mention the science wing blowing up as a result of some cloning experiment?" Mr Brown wasn't going to back down. "Why did he say that it happened at school? And why was it true?"

"It was an additional new detail to the story?" Crawley offered, getting more nervous by the second.

"Oh? Then why did Malhead call Alex Rider – Rider mind you – Alex Friend? And Alex didn't protest!" Mr Brown said.

"He probably meant that Alex was a friend, sarcastically," Crawley replied.

"You know what? I don't believe you," Mr Brown concluded. "Tell me everything!"

"Sorry sir," Crawley said professionally, being back in his element. "I can't tell you sir. I don't have the authorisation."

"I dema–" Mr Brown began, only to be cut off by Tom Harris, who was sitting unnoticed, beside Alex.

"So, how does it feel Alex, to have people argue over you?" he asked.

"Welcome to my life Tom," Alex replied sadly. "I think I should add; you'll hate it here."

Before anyone could respond, they felt the car slow down, and at once knew instinctively that they had arrived at their destinations. Their stomachs fell as the car hit a downwards ramp, then came to a complete stand-still a moment later.

Crawley led the company through a labyrinth of doors and corridors, causing them to lose all sense of direction. They finally stopped outside a door at the end of the final corridor. The plain heavy black door opened to reveal a spacious room with a desk against the far wall and no windows.

Behind the desk, sat a cold, lifeless man by the name of Alan Blunt. On the side of the desk, and facing the same direction of Blunt, sat a woman with a potato-shaped head, sucking a peppermint, by the name of Tulip Jones. They were the head and deputy head of the MI6. In other words, they were the spymasters responsible for the British Intelligence.

"Welcome out our office," Blunt said in a voice to suit his appearance.