The first part of the much-awaited sequel to 'Of Childhood Traumas and Fire Extinguishers'. Sorry it's taken so long! I hope this story lives up to your expectations of what truly happened that fateful night...

~SG~

Alex choked on his drink. "You used to babysit? Seriously?"

"I needed the money!" Wolf protested, turning a darker shade of red. "Anyway, one time I had to look after this little terror and I haven't liked children since."

"Why? What happened?" Alex asked, as the others sniggered at the thought of their formidable team leader being traumatised by a small child.

"He was just...creepy." said Wolf, grimacing at the memory. "He was only about 7 but he acted too mature, and he had this really intimidating stare, and he talked to me like I was an idiot, and he kept muttering in a different language – I swear he was talking about me, and he spent the whole night playing pranks on me, and..."

Wolf trailed off as he realised his entire team was staring at him with expressions of incredulous amusement. "Don't look at me like that, you didn't have to deal with him!"

James was extremely pissed off.

As he was a rather rebellious teenage boy, this wouldn't be considered surprising by most people. James, however, being the rather rebellious teenage boy in question, was of the opinion that he was perfectly justified in having his little temper tantrum and that no one else could possibly understand the agonising torment he was being put through at the hands of his cruel, self-centred and utterly despicable parents.

He was being forced to get a job.

Because "You need to start shouldering some responsibility, James" and "We can't keep giving you money to go out with your friends, James" and "You're 16 now, James, you need to start earning your own money."

Bollocks.

What did they know? They didn't understand. He didn't have time to work. He had school and studying (ha!), football and boxing, mates to hang out with, parties to go to and girls to meet. When was he supposed to find time to work?

Anyway, none of his friends had jobs. Their parents were all cool, they just handed over the money without question. It was only his parents that had an issue with it. Typical.

Nevertheless, James managed to evade the inevitable for another week. Up until his dad came into his bedroom with an unbearably smug look on his face.

"I've found you a job."

Which is how, the following Friday, James found himself standing outside a large house in Chelsea, preparing to present himself as a babysitter to the Rider family.

The door was answered by a pleasant, mild-mannered man who introduced himself as Ian Rider – the uncle of Alex Rider, James' charge for the evening.

Alex was a small blonde haired boy with serious brown eyes and an unnervingly penetrating stare. He said 'hello' politely, then stood back and watched as Ian, who seemed to be in a hurry, gave James his instructions for the evening.

"I don't know what time I'll be back, but Jack should be home sometime before ten. Alex has already eaten and had a bath so just make sure he's in bed by about half past 8. He's usually pretty good at doing what he's told so he should just go straight up. All you have to do is keep him entertained for the next couple of hours, make sure he stays out of trouble. He can have water, but no other food or drink. I've asked him to speak English for the evening so you shouldn't have any bother with that. Help yourself to whatever you like in the kitchen – Alex will show you where everything is. After he's in bed, feel free to watch what you want on the TV. There are some films in the cabinet, and Alex's PlayStation is there if you want to use that."

All of this came at an alarmingly fast rate as Ian darted around the house like a whirlwind, tidying up and gathering bags. James nodded along, hoping that Ian wasn't saying anything too important.

Then they were at the door, Ian was giving Alex a hug and murmuring something in his ear, there was a final "Thanks so much, James, I really appreciate this" and suddenly James was alone with a child he'd never met.

Right. Great.

"So, uh, Alex. What do you want to do?"

The boy gave James a withering look that would have sent a lesser man running for the hills, before very deliberately turning his back and walking upstairs.

James, though shaken, prided himself on his bravery (he was planning on joining the army after doing his A-Levels) and so he sucked it up and followed the kid up the stairs.

Alex was sitting at a small wooden desk in his room and appeared to be reading a book. A book which was, if James wasn't mistaken, written in French. A snippet of Ian Rider's speech came back to him and he grimaced. A child who spoke a foreign language. Brilliant.

But James would not be defeated.

"So you speak French, huh? You could try and teach me some. I'm studying it at school but my teacher is a ba-...I mean, he isn't very good."

There. James was feeling pretty pleased with himself. He'd found a common interest, suggested that Alex was the superior in relation to that interest, inserted a bit of casual chatter and neatly avoided the inappropriate language.

Alex's response left a lot to be desired. James may not be all that good at French, but he was fairly certain he knew what 'imbécile' meant.

Little brat.