I. AM. SO. SORRY. Seriously. The thing is, this computer is really old, and one day it just sort of... Died. Luckily, it was fixed. This is the first day I have gotten my computer back and this is when this whole paragraph has been written. All the rest is what I wrote before the computer broke, but with some new edits, as I found this chapter the hardest to write so far. If you're still here... MARSHMALLOWS! [] [] [] Btw, Twinnie, I apologise for the stupid reply I wrote to your review below. Thanks for the tips, and I understand where I've gone wrong, but some things are less realistic because I had to twist them so that the story would work.

OMFG! I have over 100 reviews! ^_^ XDness! Thanks to everyone who ever reviewed this story in their whole entire lives! BTW have you noticed I'm permanently hyper yet? Also, thanks to Twinnie for giving a really long and helpful review XD. I suppose some of the things I write are pretty absurd *cheesy grin* Haha. Guys, I PROMISE Ian will come along later... I just can't do Ian POV because that would sort of not be so suspenseful.

PG BREAK

Alex was in charge of 20 people, including Mr. Bray- Uh, Donkey. As he looked at the group huddled in front of him, he wanted to groan louder than he ever had before and bash his head against a nearby tree. But he didn't, for elite superspies never engaged in that kind of activity. Not in front of other people, anyway...

The thing, or things, that were making Alex so distraught were none other than, you guessed it, Ryan and Sienna. As if that wasn't enough, Ryan's best- And very popular- friend, Brian, was in Alex's group also. Just to add a cherry on top. At the moment, everyone except 'Donkey' and Tom were chatting loudly and generally not paying attention to him whatsoever. With a glare, Alex decided to take control.

"TEN-SHUN!" He roared, just like in some sort of war movie. Some people momentarily stopped talking, then turned back to their conversation, disinterested. Tom tried to stand to attention somewhat and Mr. Bray followed his student's example. With a critical eye, Alex noted that both their postures were quite sloppy. Taking another deep breath, he tried to get the group's attention again.

"Shut up, you bloody freaks!" This gained their interest; they all wanted to see druggie Rider flip out. To their disappointment, that wasn't quite going to happen. Instead they were just going to observe and later make jokes about the fact that he was acting just like the Sergeant... Or Wolf.

"If you don't stand to attention in one second and damn well listen to me, you lot are going to run that assault course 'till your legs get tired of it and decide to take a six-week vacation!" Ok, that was weird wording, and Alex didn't know why, but he quite liked saying vacation rather than holiday. There were definitely more than a few stares... But they shut up, nonetheless. "God knows, you certainly need to shift your fat asses..." He grumbled.

Of course Ryan and Brian (Who called themselves 'The Rhyming Bros', lame as it was.) just had to challenge him.

"Oh yeah, Rider? I bet you can't even run the thing." Sneered Ryan, full of himself as ever. Alex decided not to let the boy get to him, so said something that was undoubtedly annoying.

"That's actually a good idea. I'll do a demo." Ryan so stunned it was as though he had been slapped across the face.

Alex threw the timer to Mr. Bray, who caught it with noticeable difficulty.

"Time me, would you? Now, everyone, line up facing the assault course." No one did move apart from Tom, Mr. Bray, and a few kids who had pulled their heads out of their butts. "Do it before I call Wolf over." A glance at the caffeine-deprived SAS man quickly sent everyone scrambling into a position where they could see Alex as he progressed through the assault course.

Alex went up to the start line and tensed for Mr. Bray to shout at him to go. Since he wasn't looking at the man, he couldn't see the shooing hand motions that were made. After about 10 seconds he grew irritable and looked towards his Headmaster, a slight glare fixed across his face.

"Go! Go!" Flustered Mr. Bray, waving his hands like a lunatic and looking like the biggest idiot the world has ever seen. He could get like that when he was agitated. Alex rolled his eyes slightly, but so that his Headmaster couldn't see and broke off into a sprint towards the first obstacle.

"You're such an idiot! Not even conserving your energy!" Sniped Brian, with a loud vocal agreement from Ryan. Alex pointedly ignored them; it wasn't worth his time, and anyway, Tom was cheering him on, blatantly disregarding what 'The Rhyming Bros' were saying. A small smile of amusement and gratitude graced Alex's face as he continued to haul himself up ropes and whiz over tall fences, never once slowing down from his original pace.

Alex urged himself on, pushing himself harder and harder with every step. He had to get a good time! It would be kitchen duty for him otherwise... No. Kitchen Duty... He'd heard horror stories about it. Finally Alex reached the last stretch and sprinted as fast as he could towards the finish line, gradually slowing down and panting as he kept his muscles loose.

Mr. Bray glanced at the stopwatch. It claimed that Alex had taken ten minutes, five seconds. The man knew that there was a good ten seconds extra added to that, but he decided to ignore it.

"Ten minutes, five seconds!" He announced jubilantly.

"Awww," Moaned Alex, disappointed, "That's five seconds slower than last time!" Alex Rider should not have said that. For at that precise moment, the Sarge had been walking up to the group to examine how Alex was getting on.

"Five seconds slower, Cub?! You know the drill. Twenty-five push-ups!"

"Wh-Why does he have to do twenty-five push-ups?" Inquired Mr. Bray, concerned. This was addressed to the Sergeant, but Alex decided to be helpful and answer for him.

"Because, Donkey, we have to do five push-ups for every second slower."

"But that's not fair! You're only fifteen!"

"Age doesn't matter if you're in the SAS!" The Sarge barked, losing his temper, "Here, we have no ranks. We're not going to go easier on some snot-nosed punk!"

"Since when was I a punk? A snot-nosed one at that..." The spy grunted as he continued his pushups.

"Not sure about the punk bit, you're too uncool to be called a punk, but the snot-nosed thing? Since for-ever!" Called out Sienna in a particularly annoying tone, before shrinking back behind Ryan when the Sarge turned round to glare at her, before deciding it wasn't worth his energy and stalking off.

"Alex-" Started Mr. Bray before he was reprimanded by his pupil,

"It's Cub."

"Well, Cub, what shall we do now?" Alex quickly pulled himself up from the ground and stood, observing the pupils and his headmaster.

"All of you, line up in front of the assault course. I'll time your progress and call out what you should be doing better and useful tips in general."

"Says the person who got a lousy ten minutes, five seconds!" Snarked Brian, which was rather hypocritical, considering that just a while ago he had been calling Alex an idiot for not conserving any energy. Mr. Bray (finally) reprimanded one of Alex's opponents:

"Brian, since you haven't run the course yet, you are in no position to determine how good Alex's time was." Brian just gave a moody one-shouldered shrug in response, causing Mr. Bray to sigh despairingly.

"For that, maggot, you can go first!" Yapped Alex, finding that the Sarge's technique of calling people names and almost deafening them was actually quite satisfying...

"Oi! 'E called me a maggot!" It was quite pathetic, actually. Brian White was whining because he was being called a maggot. Seriously? With a mocking grin, Alex went on to teach him a lesson.

"As long as you are here, I am the authority! I am responsible for your training and I will not let it be half-assed because YOU are taking up all my time! This is NOT a game! Understood?!"

"Y-Y-Yes!"

"Yes SIR!"

"Yessir!"

"Good. Now, everyone can keep running this course until they get a time of at least seventeen minutes. GOT IT?!"

"YES SIR!"

Alex nodded, content for the moment. He knew that at some point his classmates would start rebelling against him again, but he would just have to threaten them with kitchen duty, running laps, that sort of thing. Or maybe he would be crueler and threaten for them to be put in solitary with Eagle... The teen shuddered- He couldn't even begin to think about being submitted to that sort of horror, despite everything he'd been through in the past year.

Alex shook any thoughts about his missions (Particularly that mission in Cairo.) lingering on the corners of his mind back out of his consciousness, and concentrated on running everyone through the course, shouting out helpful hints all the way.

PG BREAK (finally)

Alex wanted to tear his face off in disbelief. No, really, he did, and was extremely close to doing just that, but in the end Alex settled for faceplanting into his palm and then dragging it down over his features. Everyone in his group had been running the course for three hours, and, to say the least, it was a total disaster.

No one had made the course in the allocated time. Well, excepting himself, that was.

The fastest time made had been twenty-five minutes, thirty seconds. And that time had been made by Ryan, one of the most athletic in the year! Alex had managed around seventeen minutes last. Year! At this rate, if the school got attacked again, Alex would be their only hope. One person defending approximately a thousand? Someone would be sure to die. And that was not what a certain Mr. Rider wanted. At all.

"Alright, everyone. It's been THREE HOURS and none of you have managed to complete the course within the allocated time! You've all had at least twenty runs! This is not good enough! If you can't get fitter by the end of this course, then when we get attacked you won't even have time to snivel a goodbye to your Mummies! UNDERSTOOD?!"

"YES SIR!" The group shouted, looking quite rattled. Good. That was what Alex wanted. Then Mr. Bray popped a question.

"Um, Cub?" Not waiting for an affirmative to continue, 'Donkey' ploughed on. "I notice that you said 'when we get attacked', rather than 'if we get attacked'."

"Yes," Alex confirmed, "An attack is completely inevitable; SC-" The spy cut himself off, reprimanding himself for nearly revealing that he knew the assassins were from SCORPIA, for that would have caused mass panic. "The assassins that killed my brother are not the kind to forgive easily."

Because Scorpia never forgives, Scorpia never forgets. Isn't that right Alex? After all, you've had a firsthand experience... At this reminder, his bullet wound was reminded of his job to give Alex a painful twinge. It never could go even one day without doing that, could it?

Finally Alex finished his talk and sighed, looking them over. They all looked completely worn out- And they couldn't even make seventeen minutes! Shoulders slumping slightly in defeat, Alex dismissed them.

"Just... Go and have your lunch, alright?"

PG BREAK

Mr. Bray was feeling perplexed. Very, very perplexed. As always, it was to do with Alex Rider. Alex's codename was Cub... That was rather odd, considering the conversation Mr. Bray had had about a week ago:

"Oh yes..." Chuckled Snake, "I'm pretty sure they'll call them maggots, make them do push ups, maybe go on the obstacle course-Minimum completion time of 20 minutes, paintball- K-Unit vs. Them... Yeah, it'll be great. Though none of them will be as good as Cub..." Snake trailed off.

"Who's Cub?"

"Oh, it was this kid with real rich parents. They wanted him to be able to defend himself- you know, in case of ransoms and stuff, but it turned out he was a total legend. He was there for two weeks, yet in that time he even managed to be good as some of our more experienced soldiers..."

So there was this Cub, apparently a total legend. Then there was Alex Rider, also given the codename Cub, and who was clearly able to complete the courses with an SAS standard. It seemed too 'coincidental' to be a coincidence. Then there was also that Alex had been off school many times, and every time had come back with bruises, and that his Uncle and now dead brother were spies. Well, one had been. And then, hadn't he vanished after the school shooting?

A possibility seeded itself in Henry Bray's mind. No… It just wasn't possible… Was it? The mysterious absences, the cuts and bruises, the way Alex looked older every time he returned to school. No. It was ridiculous, impossible. He needed to get a grip. But still… No. Something like that wouldn't- couldn't happen. It just wasn't possible, was it?

Was Alex Rider a spy?

PG BREAK

Meanwhile, the students of Brooklands were having similar thoughts about the very same mysterious character generally regarded as a druggie: Alex Rider, who else?(1)

They too started to dig deeper to the truth, the whole issue being started by the girl who had alerted everyone, in Geography, that Alex Rider had allegedly been at Cairo College rather than sick. Unfortunately, the same girl happened to have seen Alex's amazing skill on the assault course. Then there was also the factor that she was reasonably clever, unlike some students.

-His absences.

-His cuts and bruises upon returning from sick leave.

-The way he seemed to become increasingly troubled.

-His astounding physical skills.

-There was a shooting at school, the shot seemingly aimed at him. After this, he disappeared.

-His visit to Cairo College, and, according to her friend, denial of his true identity.

-The way he handled the situation when Yassen pointed a gun at him. Like it was an everyday occurrence.

-A brother and uncle who were spies.

There was no denying it. No hiding from the 'inevitable conclusion'. And so she managed, naturally, to convince the entire school of her suspicions. The 'news' spread so fast that even some of the teachers knew of it before the end of lunch:

Alex Rider was a spy.

PG BREAK

Whilst Mr. Bray had been contemplative, his classmates filled with certainty, Alex had been having some trouble. As always. He quickly moved up to get his meal and then went to sit down with Leopard and Buffalo.

"Hi guys," he said as he slid into a seat opposite them. Then he noticed the two men exchange wary glances. "What's going on?" Alex asked, suddenly alert, watching them as they continued to stay in stiff silence. Then Buffalo sighed:

"Well, look, kid… We don't think we want to 'hang out' with you anymore…" Leopard opened his mouth, ready to say something, but Alex jumped in first.

"What? Why? I-I thought you guys… I mean, I told you who I was and everything," stumbled the spy clumsily, looking away.

"Look, Buffalo-" Leopard started, but the other man cut in. At least Leopard's still standing up for me. And the Sarge…

"No, Leopard, K-Unit don't trust him-"

"But he's just a kid!"

"I know, I don't want to do this, but he's not trustworthy…"

"Buffalo! He's only, what, fourteen?"

"Still-"

"I'm fifteen," Alex interrupted, not attempting in the slightest to hide the vehemence from his voice, "I can't believe you two. Buffalo, I told you that who I am- I trusted you with that and I expected you trust me back. Yet you try to exclude me because my unit got some weird ideas. I thought you understood me, to some degree, at least enough to know that I would never be a threat, or that I would purposefully harm you. I thought trust in another soldier meant something in the SAS."

"I'm sorry, Cub, I mean-"

"Save it. And Leopard. Were you ever really a friend at all? Or did you just feel sorry for me because of my age? I don't need pity- Not from you, anyway. I can't believe you could let me think you liked hanging out with me, when all you were trying to do was boost your ego. 'Oh, look, poor little Cub! I think I'll be a nice guy and sit with him in the mess to make him feel better, even though I really don't care about him. I feel so good for helping someone out!'"

"It wasn't like that at all, Cub!"

"I don't care what it was like. I'm going to sit with K-Unit. At least I know where I stand with them. Oh, and, by the way, we've resolved our problems, and they feel pretty bad for the way they treated me, considering I'm a good guy. Ciao."

And with that rather unique farewell, Alex stormed off to his unit's table, sitting down and eating as fast as he could, while not looking at anyone else. Particularly Fox. But Alex had a much more unsettling question on his mind rather than any about Fox's betrayal.

I've killed people. I've felt the urge to kill intentionally. I saved the world… But not of my own free will. If I hadn't been blackmailed, masses of people could be dead, there could be political chaos, and the economy could be totally destroyed. And all the problems would be because I only cared about myself: Whether I lived or died. I killed Julius Grief in cold blood… I-I didn't have to do that, not really…

Am I, Alex Rider, really a 'good guy'?

PG BREAK

A teenage spy who happened to be residing in an SAS camp was very pissed off, to say the least. His class was totally hopeless! The push-up session, in particular, was a complete failure. And, as if that wasn't enough, they'd discovered that he was a spy. Well… Not really. None of them had actually asked him yet- They'd just whispered amongst themselves in a manner that they obviously thought was conspiring and secretive. In reality, it just looked babyish and idiotic.

And guess what poor little Alex had to do now? After having to straighten out some of the most popular kids in school? After having to endure watching some of the most miserable attempts at completing the obstacle course, push-ups, sprints… In his life? Guess what?

He had to give his teachers at least an extra hour of training. Every single day.

Oh, Alex Rider truly was a regrettably unlucky and ill-fated soul.

Apprehension coursed through his body as he trudged ever closer to the obstacle course where his teachers were waiting somewhat impatiently. For God's sake, he was a spy! He was good at preventing the world from being blown up, not teaching his teachers! Oh Gods, they'd all resent him by the time the hour was over, never mind all the other sessions! And was he meant to criticize them when they didn't perform well? Shit summed the situation up nicely…

"Umm… Hi?" Alex greeted his teachers uncertainly, striding up to them. They all gave muttered 'hellos', none too enthusiastically either. Right. That was a real confidence boost! However, Mrs. Bedfordshire seemed to notice this, and, since she possessed something called tact, or maybe empathy, she re-greeted Alex, a hell of a lot more excitedly:

"Hello Alex! What are we going to be participating in?" Alex gave a small smile, and went on to tell his teachers what lay in wait for them.

"Right, so we're doing a rather complicated activity, which trains you in a range of skills. You will all be kitted up with a map, compass and paintball gun. Using the navigation equipment, you will have to work out the way from Point A to Point B on a trek which should take you roughly one and a half hours… If you get the chance to complete it." A few confused looks were exchanged here, and Alex held up his hand to bring the attention back to what he was saying, "Twenty minutes into the trek, I will follow you, using only my tracking skills to determine your location. If I find you, and then shoot you with a paintball, you have failed. If you manage to get to the end you have passed. If you manage to shoot me, you have passed. Any questions?"

There were a few quiet comments shared among the teachers, leaving Alex squirming as he felt increasingly out of place. At last, Mr. Gilbert, or 'Gecko', piped up nervously:

"We… Uh, don't really know how to use any of the equipment…" He trailed off awkwardly, all the other teachers also looking like they were in quite a difficult situation; they were, after all, asking their student for help, however indirectly it may be. Alex repressed the overwhelming urge to sigh yet again for the hundredth time that day.

"But Gecko, you teach Geography. Surely you know how to use the navigation equipment?" Oh no. Had he said that a bit too cuttingly? Had he really offended Mr. Gilbert? No…

"Yes, of course I do," Gecko replied, rather defensively, if not pompously, "But the other teachers don't."

"Well, I guess I'll have to give you a bit of a crash course… I'll just have to use a completely different section of the map, so that the exercise is actually an exercise." Upon saying this, Alex handed an envelope containing the map to his Geography teacher. "Position this map on the ground in such a way that I cannot see Point B; I'm meant to be completely unaware of the destination so that I can put my tracking skills into proper practice."

Mr. Gilbert nodded and took the map as Alex turned away, impatiently listening to the paper rustling behind him and his teacher's various mutters.

"We're done." About time, too!

"Good," rapped out Alex briskly, taking a look at the map, and then pointing to a patch of open terrain, "Pretend that this is Point B. You have a number of ways to get there. Walking straight up to it on this hill is certainly not an option. The game'd be over before it'd even begun. You could sneak around this treeline, but there's a lot of marshy ground in that section; see, there's a symbols key down there," he elaborated, gesturing, "So that leaves you with this treeline: Lots of cover, no marshy ground. That is, however, rather obvious, and so you and your team would have to make a well structured decision, possibly alternating between the different terrains."

"Now, how to navigate, and the compass. As you can see, there is a symbol indicating North, East, et cetera. So you get out the compass and keep turning the map around until the North-South arrow on the compass lines up with the one on the map. Then you should know which direction to head in. Each of the squares in the grid across the map equals a square Kilometre. That should be enough." Alex glanced at his watch, then claimed, "There's no time to really teach you how to shoot, so just use the guns to the best of your ability and remember to use the crosshairs."

"Right. Good. Now I shall go to my starting point, quite a distance away so that I can't eavesdrop on you, and I shall wait twenty minutes before tracking you. Your time starts now. Good luck," and with that, the teen waltzed almost lazily into the distance.

PG BREAK

Twenty minutes later, Alex Rider ran into the clearing where he had left his teachers, paintball gun fitting disturbingly nicely into his hand. No time was wasted, tracks immediately searched for and options weighed up. A dense forest stretched ahead of him, some smooth grass, some marshy and muddy, and some pretty much impossible to penetrate.

He saw a few footprints leading into the marsh, but they seemed a bit too deep, too obvious to be natural. He smiled at the smart yet futile attempt to mislead him, and wandered into the grassy area of forest, jogging stealthily, eyes scanning all the shadows.

Then he suddenly came to a stream. Alex rapidly hid behind a tree, as his teachers could easily be lying in wait for him along the deep, muddy banks. He then crawled cautiously up to the banks, gun positioned, visually scouring the area for any sign of his teachers. None. A nimble dash down to the stream, paired with a strong frontcrawl didn't trigger any attack, as was the same for Alex's scramble up the bank and drop behind a well-placed tree.

What our favourite spy saw next almost, almost pulled a 'shit' out from between his lips.

It was caves. Lots and lots of caves and cliffs. How the hell was he meant to track them now? By doing forensic tests on the stones? It was just then that he noticed a cliff with many handholds notched into the sheer wall of stone, not to mention the telltale damp handprints all over it. Shaking his head, Alex scaled the face with an almost machine-like ease, hoisting himself up.

"We should... Easier..."

"...Should do..."

"...Vote!"

The voices of Alex's teachers drifted out less than calmly towards him, tickling a grin out of Alex as he crept towards the source of the noise, all the while taking cover behind trees and rocks. They were pretty much shouting out their location, in terms of high-standard stealth and evasion.

Alex crept round the back of a rock, taking a glimpse at them. All with their backs to him. Seriously? No sentry or lookout or anything? And so he snuck up behind them, then backing up about 20 metres before quickly and efficiently picking them all out of the game in a flurry of silver paintballs.

"Game over," Alex said quietly as he strode up to them, suddenly regretting his actions. After all, he had probably damaged their pride; being beaten by a student? To his surprise, all he got was one rather shocked question, voiced by Mrs. Bedfordshire, or Shark.

"How did you find us so easily?"

"The thing with the footprints in the marsh was good, but they looked a bit too obvious. Then there was the thing with the cliff, which was completely soaked in water, and, finally, me hearing your voices, coming along, and 'shooting' you."

Alex suddenly glanced at his watch. "I think it's safe to say that I found you in approximately twelve minutes. I guess you just need to work on your map reading and stealth, as well as focusing more on your teamwork skills. Since we've still got some time to go before the Sarge lets us back into the barracks, I think we should do a short trek."

PG BREAK

It would be nice to say that everything went well on the trek, but, unfortunately, it didn't.

As the group were nearing the end of the trek, Alex's senses went on overdrive. They were in a totally harmless-looking clearing, some red and gold leaves sprinkled on the ground around them, partially frosty. It was totally normal but something was up.

"Stop," commanded Alex suddenly. And stop they all did. What was wrong?

"What's going on, Cub?" Inquired Mr. Wiseman, 'Owl'.

"Something's not right." Alex surveyed the area, looking for anything suspicious. Nothing. Then he looked down at the ground. It wasn't right. The leaves were too... Arranged. Taking extreme care, he pushed the muzzle of his paintball rifle into an area where there was a larger pile of leaves.

SNAP!

Alex couldn't help but gasp and jump backwards in shock as something smashed around his gun. When he recovered from the initial jolt, he looked to see what had caused that reaction.

It was a leghold trap. Those spiky hunting things that snap down on the poor animal's leg. And he had almost walked into it. He could have been lying on the floor, screaming, with his leg broken and bloodied beyond repair... No. That was an utterly gruesome thought.

Turning back to the group he saw, as you would imagine, that they were all pale-faced and violently aghast.

"A-A-Alex..." Mrs. Bedfordshire whispered softly, distressed. "I-If you had kept walking-"

"I know," responded said boy, proud of how strong his voice sounded, "But I don't particularly want to think about it." 'Shark' accepted this with a somewhat dazed nod.

"I think we should go back now." Suggested Robin, also known as Mr. Shermann, after a tense beat of silence. But, alas, their plans for departure were cut short by a rather stocky and muscular man in his thirties running into sight with a:

"Yes! I finally caught something!" Alex's face hardened on sight of this fool.

"Sir, may I ask you to leave the premises immediately, disarming and removing any other traps you may have concealed in these areas?"

The admittedly rather handsome man stopped short, jumping, then taking in the scene before him and glancing at Alex. Anyone could see he was just a kid with a group of adults who quite clearly weren't SAS soldiers, despite their combats.

"As if I would listen to a smartarse snot-nose like you," growled Unidentified Man, as Alex had taken to calling him, rather harshly.

"Hunting and leaving traps on SAS ground is strictly prohibited." Alex wasn't about to back down so easily; he stood his ground, keeping a firm, clear tone. Unidentified Man snorted.

"Because you know an awful lot about the SAS, rookie!"

"If you don't follow my orders, I shall have to report this incident to the police and the Sergeant in charge of us." It was a lie, seeing as even if the guy was compliant, he would do that anyway. That was when it all turned ugly.

"You won't do that if you know what's good for you, you little shit!" Roared the man, suddenly lunging at Alex, who, naturally, managed to fight him off with a quick palm strike to the jaw. Further aggravated by the pain, Unidentified Man suddenly whipped out a hunting knife, stabbing it at Alex so that it slashed through his shirt and grazed the bullet wound beneath. Alex gasped in intense pain, clutching his chest, before almost immediately retaliating with a sharp kick to the breastbone and a strike to the temple.

Luckily, if not slightly pathetically, this knocked Unidentified Man clean out.

The teacher's reactions were all rather different:

Mrs. Bedfordshire went running up to Alex immediately, who was clutching his chest in pain. It felt like it was on fire! And jolting twinges were shooting through his left arm. He used one hand to stem the weak blood flow seeping into blotchy circles on his uniform, all the while breathing quite irregularly as a result of the agony.

Mr. Bray stared for a moment at the man his student had knocked out, suspicions of Alex being a spy returning, before immediately shaking such ridiculous thoughts out of his head, going over to see how Alex was doing.

froze, white-faced. He hadn't seen anything like this happen in his short career. A student getting hurt with a weapon? The whole thing was way out of his depth.

Mr. Wiseman started to panic, gabbling nonsense about his First Aid certificate and Air Ambulances.

Mr. Donovan went to check that Unidentified Man really was knocked out, then searched the guy's pockets for a First Aid kit, despite the fact that the First Aid kit would have to be a special contortionism version to fit in pockets that small.

Mr. Grey went up to Alex, looking scared out of his skin at the sight of the blood.

And Mr. Shermann. Finally there was someone who wasn't just going to freak out and actually organise everything! He did the obvious thing: sent out an SOS flare! Genius! And then he asked to look at Alex's wound.

"No." Alex flat-out refused, as most who knew about his hobby would expect.

But then all the teachers just had to gang up on him. Well, that was how he felt. In reality, they were just extremely concerned for his wellbeing. They let him get away with it for a while, but after five minutes, when Alex had started shivering, blood was seeping around his hand, and there was no sign that the SAS had seen the flarewhatsoever, Mr. Shermann put his foot down.

" Alex, you're going to take that shirt off now and let us help you, or we're going to have to force it off you, which I'm sure neither of us want. It's your decision. Easy way or hard way?"

By that point, Alex was in too bad a state to say no. Tentatively, steeling himself against any explosive reactions, he slowly straightened up, despite the jolts of pain that ran through hi chest and left shoulder, and peeled his shirt up, revealing the burn marks all down his back, the scar down his side from the bullring in France, along with many little scars from the shards of glass that had rained upon him in Greenfields. But no appendicitis scar. He lifted his shirt up further.

A bullet wound.

Well, Julius Grief, obvs.

Hope that was good enough! Sorry for the delay, I've got exams and I'm totally freaking out. Also an extreme lack of willpower; I just like reading other people's stuff so much more than writing my own! Now I'd better do my 2 essays and exam revision and write my orals.