A/N: I am so sorry this took forever. I had no excuse, except that writer's block happens to the best of us. I hope y'all enjoy this chapter anyhow; this is officially the last chapter that happens at camp (for Alex, at least). This should probably answer a few of your questions, and likely bring up some more...:)

Thank you for all of your encouraging, supportive and helpful reviews!

Alex walked in front of the mysterious man, uncomfortably aware of the gun at his back. His face was impassive, but he was taking in his surroundings keenly, knowing that if he only had one shot to run he couldn't afford to get lost. The man had forced him to walk for ages and Alex estimated that they were almost at the end of the forest. He wasn't entirely sure what came after the boundaries of the forest ended, but there would either be people or relatively open space. Since he preferred neither outcome, he would somehow have to escape back to camp. The forest was about ten miles, or roughly 16,000 metres in diameter, assuming that his mental map was correct and they were walking in a relatively straight line through the shorter edge of the forest.

The gun jabbed harder into Alex's back as he stumbled over a rock, and he stiffened reflexively at the touch of metal. He could recognize it even through the layers of cloth; it appeared that he had become rather too intimately acquainted with the touch of a gun in his life. Who was the man behind it? Alex didn't think he was necessarily from Scorpia, unless this was another plot to win his trust and bring him in. He'd seen the man kill at least one Scorpia agent...although Scorpia was cold enough to sacrifice a few of their men for a greater prize.

He shuddered reflexively at thinking of himself as a prize.

Alex wasn't as naïve to believe that the only big player he should be concerned about was Scorpia, but it was true that they had a personal grudge with him. Alternately, perhaps the man was from another terrorist group? It was also possible the man could be an agent from another country's secret service or was acting independently. There were far too many options for Alex to narrow down his identity, and he wasn't about to do something stupid like assume he knew who his captor was and act rashly. Alex had seen far too many men go down as a result of such assumptions.

They stopped, apparently at random, although he didn't rule out the thought that this spot held a particular significance. Alex scanned the area, but he didn't see anybody - or anything. Then again, the trees were dense and full with leaves, and the sky was still shadowed with night clouds. He would have to stay vigilant in case of an ambush. The man behind him hesitated before removing the gun. A rough hand on Alex's shoulder forced him to turn around, and he finally got a good look at his abductor, who immediately pointed the gun at Alex again.

It took considerable self-control to stop his eyes from widening in shock. The man was honestly no more than a kid, only a few years older than Alex himself. His tanned face still had a hint of boyish roundness and he didn't quite look as though he was finished growing. However, Alex knew more than anybody that age did not belie experience, and upon further examination, it became very clear that this man - or boy, or teenager, or whatever he should be called - was dangerous indeed.

He held himself with a self-possessed air that would appear arrogant if his face had not been as hard as steel. Looking at the man's face, Alex was uncomfortably reminded of what he'd seen in his own countenance after he'd left Scorpia. The man held his gun with a looseness that spoke of familiarity with the weapon, and the way he had positioned his weight informed Alex that he could strike out lethally at any moment. The man's hazel eyes were tracking Alex as intently as Alex was cataloguing him, and he briefly wondered what assumptions the man was making in their silent assessment of each other. Alex's own face was impassive, but even the most experienced spy couldn't hide everything.

Whatever the man saw seemed to please him, for his face broke out into a wide smile that was entirely unexpected. The man had curly brown hair and a stocky build and he looked shockingly similar to a boy that Alex had spent years playing with on the same football team. It was strange to see him smile, Alex thought, as his affable appearance contradicted harshly with the cold glint in his eyes.

"Hello," the man said, and his voice cemented Alex's earlier prediction that he could be no more than mid-twenties. His voice had not yet matured to the deepness expected of somebody older. "Sorry about all of that."

Alex raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly and made a split second decision on how to react. "It's okay," he said just as easily, figuring that cordiality was his best bet until he figured out more about this stranger. There was no apparent hurry, after all. Alex was reasonably sure all of the Scorpia men had been taking care of, judging by the fact that there were no more gunshots, and MI6 must have arrived by now.

Alex thought suddenly of L-Unit and he amended his earlier statement. Their statuses were still uncertain, as the last he'd seen, they were all down and possibly dead. There was a reason to hurry after all, and his desire to return warred with his desire to figure out more about this man.

If I see an opportunity, I'll take it, Alex decided, and not a moment before. "Mind if I ask who you are?" He continued, his tone light.

The man quirked his lips. "You're taking this awfully calmly."

Alex shrugged, his eyes picking up on the way that the man subtly shifted his hand towards his gun. The man expected him to make a move, then. "You haven't given me a reason to distrust you yet."

The man raised an eyebrow, and the touch of playfulness in his behavior instantly disappeared. "We both know neither of us are going to trust the other," he stated matter-of-factly, and Alex couldn't help but agree. "But, I need your help."

"It must be hard to form an alliance without trusting the other person," was Alex's only response, said almost automatically as he readjusted to this new information. "What kind of help?"

"You don't need to know that yet," the man said. "After all, you wouldn't believe me. That is not the important detail, however."

Alex narrowed his eyes. This encounter wasn't going at all like he'd anticipated, and it was difficult to think of a good strategy to continue. He decided to be blunt, hoping it would throw the other man off his guard. "I think it's pretty bloody important, actually," Alex said lightly, though he tried to convey his seriousness through his crossed arms and unforgiving stance.

"Scorpia wants you," the man said instead of elaborating. Alex held back a frown as he took in this information. Was this a trap, or some kind of trick? "That should be obvious by now. They have retreated; this was a first strike, and their main objective failed. They will be watching cautiously."

He ignored this piece of information, unsure of its veracity, and instead asked, "Who are you?"

The man ignored him. "They have sustained far more losses than you have, although there are a few deaths I suspect you will find quite distressing."

This effectively caught Alex's attention, and he took a step forward. The man's gun didn't waver. "Who died?" Alex demanded, suddenly wary. He had left Tom and the others alone. He had told them to run, but had they listened?

"The man you call Frog," he said emotionlessly, "And the medic."

Alex blinked rapidly as he took in this news. Almost immediately, the grief hit. He hadn't known either of the two men for very long, but they had known his secret, and he had confessed everything to them...

Control, a voice whispered in his head, and he swallowed harshly as he banished all sadness to the part of his mind where dangerous emotions lingered and hid. Anger replaced the sorrow and he noticed distantly that the man looked apprehensive of him for the first time. "What happened." It was a demand more than a question, his intonation leaving no room for argument.

"Every Scorpia agent carries at least two types of bullets," the man said instead. "You know this."

"Ones that kill, and ones that don't," Alex completed. He knew this quite well, though he distantly wondered at the level of intimate knowledge the man was showing. Scorpia killed mercilessly, but they knew the value of keeping somebody alive. From the man's information, he inferred that Pelican and Jackal had been spared - most likely for a purpose, although he couldn't yet think of what that may be. "Why were they killed?"

"Scorpia wants you," the man repeated, and his eyes held Alex's gaze intently. "They want you to come after them."

Alex distrusted the man, but he knew this, at least, was true. Scorpia had made their desire towards him very clear. He forced his voice to be calm and smoothly lied, "I wouldn't risk my life for revenge."

"I'm sure they suspected that," the man said. "The deaths were only a backup plan."

Alex's voice was deathly cold when he whispered, "What did they do?"

"They took your friends."

Tom!

He immediately began planning. Scorpia wanted him, that was true. How could he get his friends back? MI6 would help - they would have to, he would quit if they didn't, he would go after them alone - and the SAS would be obliged, for letting Tom get captured in their protection.

Control, that insidious voice whispered again, but he batted it away. He needed to rescue Tom, it was his fault that he'd gotten captured -

"Already plotting, I see?" The man said, almost disappointed, and it was enough to snap Alex momentarily out of his rescue plans. "Do not be foolish, Alex Rider."

At a loss for something to say, he managed again, "Who are you?"

The man cocked an eyebrow and continued. "Your plans will fail, almost certainly." Something changed in his expression and voice as he said, "Did you wonder why MI6 has not arrived?"

He had been wondering this, but he shook his head fiercely. "Do not try to turn me against them - "

"They are using you as bait!" The man said loudly, and it seemed as if he'd lost a bit of his control, his eyes flashing and his expression angry. "They ignored your signal for distress. They are tracking you as we speak, but they will not interfere, not until you have led them right to the new Scorpia headquarters!"

"No," he whispered in disbelief and dismay, but as the man was talking, pieces began falling in place. They had ignored him, forbidden the Sergeant from training him, left him with no instruction or guidance. He thought of his experiences with them in the past. They had manipulated him into coming here… was it too much of a stretch to think they would sacrifice his safety to get at Scorpia?

"No," Alex whispered again, but this time it was in answer to his unspoken question.

The man was back to his cold expression. "I am not suggesting you distance yourself from them. They can be useful. Let them manipulate you, but be aware of their manipulations, Alex Rider. They do not care for you beyond your use to them as a tool, as a weapon. Do not be blind."

"I don't believe you," he lied, for despite all of his brain screaming at him to get away, some inner part of him agreed with everything the man was saying.

The man gave him the smallest of disbelieving smiles and continued, "SAS is on your side. They are on the verge of breaking from MI6. You can trust the Sergeant."

"How - how do you know all of this?" Alex asked weakly. The how can I trust you was left unsaid, but they both heard it.

The man smiled grimly. "I have been watching you for days - weeks even, Alex Rider. I need your help, and you need mine to break away from these chains. It's all about mutual benefit; it's not about trust, or lack thereof. I have told you nothing but the truth. Go, confirm it. You wish to rescue your friends and avenge the others' deaths. I have another wish that I will reveal to you in two days, at midnight, where you train with L-Unit."

"I don't trust you," Alex said, one final denial, but the man only shrugged.

"I do not trust you either, Alex Rider, but that's hardly important in such a dangerous game. I apologize. You will wake up in fifteen minutes."

The meaning of the last statement made him furrow his brow before he launched himself to the side. It was not enough to escape the dart shot at him, and he crumpled, unconscious.

The spy smiled to himself as he hurried away. That had gone well, better than expected. He was sure that when Rider woke up, he would go through the conversation very carefully. Good. He had kept the boy on his toes, not letting him dwell too long on his disbelief or distrust, and Rider nearly believed him already.

Running lithely through the forest, the spy made his next move. He had told nothing but the truth to Rider, and the sooner he realized that, the better. The spy hated slavery, and he hated to see talent such as Rider held down and constrained in dangerous chains. He would free Rider, just as he had been freed, and then they would take down the cause of all of their troubles and rise from the ashes, stronger than before.

Paul was drafting the beginning of the report on the night's fiasco that he knew he'd have to send to MI6 when Alex Rider slammed his way through the doors. "Where the hell were you?" Alex yelled, and Paul winced at the grief he could hear colouring the tone. "Why the fuck did they die?"

Paul looked up and would have recoiled if he wasn't so adept at hiding his emotions. Alex looked terrible, with dirt smudging his body and scratches littering his arms and legs and bruises on his face. He was covered with leaves and muck and blood, his blond hair a dirty brown, and he looked absolutely feral. Paul had seen a lesser version of this look on Pelican and Jackal's faces, and while he didn't doubt his men were grieving more than Alex, they also had the tools necessary to think past the cloud of emotions weighing heavily on their minds. When his men got angry, it was a cold anger that promised silent retribution in the most precise, exacting way possible. His men were trained not to take stupid risks. They acknowledged their anger or sadness or happiness and then used them as tools. Rider, on the other hand, had allowed himself to get entirely swept up in his rage and was practically emanating fury.

Quite honestly, Paul had never been more aware that Alex was dangerous until this moment.

He shook his head, then, and affixed a terribly strict glare onto his face. "Sit down, Cub," he snapped, letting all the authority of Sergeant strengthen his voice. He had a soft spot for this teenager, as soft as a military leader could afford to have, but he also knew Alex had the capabilities to think, act, and fight like an adult. From this day on, he would cease to treat him as a child and expect him to behave as such.

Alex sat, part of the anger knocked out of him in surprise.

"Tell me exactly what happened," Paul continued, still in that hard voice that he used when his men came back from difficult, traumatizing missions. He forced them to speak about it with the psychologists and psychiatrists he employed, but he would never molly-coddle them during the debriefing. He believed that it gave them strength, to know that they had survived something terrible and still could sit in front of their Sergeant and give a concise report on what happened. They always had their training and skills to fall back on, if nothing else.

Alex opened his mouth, and the story he told was enough to make even Paul clench one fist in anger. He was not upset at Alex, or even at the SAS men. They had fought bravely. No, he was furious at MI6, who had mandated the camping trip and then promised to watch everybody and ensure their safety. He had just received a worrisome memo, and although he understood the situation, how had they been so careless?

Now, two of his men were dead, and if Alex was to be believed, seven children had been kidnapped by a terrorist organization. What the hell was he supposed to do?

"And then the man knocked me out, and when I woke back up, he was gone," Alex concluded, and Paul was pleased to note that the feral look in his eyes had dissipated almost entirely. "I ran back to camp as fast as I could and went straight to your office, sir."

The 'sir' at the end made him nod to himself. Alex would do nicely. "Let us make a list of what this man told you," he said, taking out a pad of lined paper and a pen. "He said that Frog and Mongoose were dead, that your unit mates had been captured, that Jackal and Pelican were alive because they had been shot with sleeping darts, not bullets, correct? He also stated that MI6 was manipulating you and wanted you to be captured so that they could follow you back to Scorpia's headquarters."

"Yes," Alex said, and then he looked up to Paul with just a hint of vulnerability showing. "Is it all true?"

Paul bit his tongue, deliberating, before he nodded sharply. "I cannot say for certain whether the accusations about MI6 are true," he said truthfully, "I received a memo stating that there had been a Scorpia mole in MI6, and that was the reason their team was not in the forest to protect you. They have apprehended this mole and are interrogating him as we speak."

Alex's face turned ugly in disgust. "What do we do now, sir?"

He frowned, deliberating. "We do nothing," he said. He was upset at MI6, yes, but Blunt had assured them that they would be up and running in a few hours, their security intact once more. "MI6 has found the mole and stopped them. It is their responsibility to track down Scorpia and find those kids."

Alex looked completely taken aback. "You can't be serious!" He exclaimed. "MI6 isn't trustworthy! How do we know there wasn't another spy? What if they were trying to set me up, use me as bait - "

"There is absolutely no evidence that this man was correct," Paul snapped before he visibly calmed himself. Leaning back in his chair, the Sergeant surveyed Alex: stubbornly clenched jaw, dark eyes, tensed shoulders. "That man is an unknown factor and a risk," Paul said carefully. "I forbid you to contact him tomorrow, and I forbid you to go after Scorpia by yourself, understand?"

Alex's face was mutinous, but he muttered an agreement. "Yes, sir."

Paul nodded decisively. The entire operation had been a complete disaster, but during their talk, he had charted out a brief plan of action. "This is what we're going to do," he said, and Alex looked up in surprise. Paul hid a smile. Alex greatly desired to be involved, but he never expected to be. "As is customary, Pelican and Jackal are going to be given a short break for grieving purposes. You are, as well. You've been through a lot. I suggest you go talk to MI6 and see what they have to say, and then spend some time with your guardian."

That mulish look was back in Alex's frown, yet he didn't say anything.

"I will be working on increasing the security of the camp. Blunt ordered me to keep your classmates here for another few weeks; a few MI6 agents will be coming as well. MI6 is capable of planning a rescue mission."

"You want me to go home."

Paul looked him directly in the eye. "Yes," he said, feeling some of that old disgust at Alex's occupation well up in him. He was talented and competent, yes, but he was still a child. "Go home. Rest. You've done enough for now."

Alex was definitely angry by this point, but he bowed his head and murmured another submissive agreement.

"Good," Paul said seriously. "Dismissed."

Tom opened an eye, feeling woozy and tired. He groaned softly, his stomach churning as he became aware that he was bouncing up and down. More details crept in as he tried to clear his head. He was tied up, head lolling on Colin's shoulder. They were in a van of some sort, along with the other five. The others were stirring, too, and the girl that Alex disdainfully referred to as Mud Girl - her name was Amelia - opened her eyes first.

"Where are we?" Amelia shrieked, and her voice was high pitched enough to make Tom wince. He had a shit storm of a headache, and he glared weakly at her.

"Shut up," Jeremy snapped. No surprise there, Tom thought drowsily. Jeremy was a brat no matter the circumstances.

He blinked a few more times and properly sat up. The seven teenagers spent the next few minutes in silence as they adjusted to their surroundings. Tom had never been properly drugged, unless you counted the time he'd been half-paralyzed at the hospital, and he decided he never wanted to be again. If that wasn't an incentive to stay away from the shady blokes who hung out near the bike cages, nothing was.

He amused himself for a second by imagining an anti-drug campaign that involved dosing all the students before he shook his head again. What is wrong with me? His thoughts were floating and random and he had trouble focusing on the important bits: they had been captured.

He started, the memories of the past few hours flooding in. "Holy shit," he muttered to himself as he remembered the men shooting at him, Alex killing, and their capture. "Holy fucking shit."

"We're going to die," whispered one of the other girls, and it took him a minute to place her name: Miranda.

He wanted to agree with her, but then he thought that Alex had been brave even when it meant destroying his secret identity, and he shook his head. "No, we're not," he said, trying to make his voice soothing. He had to be the brave one. He was the only one who knew about the situation, about Scorpia and Alex. "If they wanted to kill us, we'd be dead already."

This didn't really help calm anyone down, he realized too late, as Amelia shrieked again and Jeremy shouted at her and they deteriorated into chaos for a few minutes.

"Shut the hell up!" A voice shouted from the front of the van, and they instantly quieted.

"Who are those people?" Brooke whispered, her voice scratchy. She clutched hard on the hand of the girl next to her. Dammit, what was her name? Jenny? No. Julia?

All eyes swung to him, and he mentally swore. Maybe he didn't want to be the brave one after all. That wasn't really his thing - but he didn't have a choice, and so he lowered his voice and leaned forward as much as the bonds would allow him. "They're a group of terrorists," he said truthfully, and the color immediately drained from everybody's faces. "They're not going to hurt us because we're just kids."

"Terrorists don't care if we're kids," Jeremy said softly.

Tom hated the bloody idiot, but he looked terrified, and so Tom only shook his head. "No, they won't, because if they hurt us, SAS and MI6 and Alex will hurt them."

Perhaps mentioning MI6 and Alex had been a bad idea, Tom realized a beat late as they exploded into a flurry of whispers again.

"What - what does Alex have to do with it?" Colin said, speaking up for the first time. "Is he really involved in a gang?"

Tom was about to say 'no' when he stopped, realizing that he could help keep Alex's true identity secret. "Yeah," Tom said mournfully, putting all of his acting talents to use. "I told you that earlier, in the forest, remember? It's not his fault, but I think he did something stupid that made the terrorists pay attention to him. I think the gang he was in was dealing with something, drugs or guns or some shit, and Alex got involved."

"So we're here because he was an idiot?" Jeremy raged, and Tom wanted to hit the smarmy look right off of his face.

"Does it matter? He's going to come rescue us. He saved our lives."

Whatever Jeremy was going to say died unspoken as the voice yelled at them to shut up again. Tom quieted. They had to figure out what to do, and soon.

The three of them sat in silence in L-Unit's old hut.

It was a disaster. Cards were scattered about. Beer bottles were smashed, the glass littering the floor. There were candy wrappers everywhere, the beds had been overturned, and a sticky residue from a lotion bottle stained one wall from where Pelican had hurled it.

The three of them sat on the floor, leaning against the walls. It was a disaster, yes, but they all felt the better for it after.

Alex stared at the glinting remains of a mirror that Jackal had managed to smash in his rage. He briefly saw his face wink in and out and turned his attention away, not wanting to see his suspiciously red eyes and the bags under them from lack of sleep.

His companions were no better. Jackal's face seemed made up entirely of lines, with his eyebrows pulled together in worry and sadness and his lips pursed, pulling his cheeks. Pelican was the opposite, in that regard. His face was smooth and expressionless, and he stared blankly ahead of him.

"The Sergeant's going to flip a bitch when he sees this," Jackal said quietly, and if his voice was hoarse, nobody mentioned it.

Pelican closed his eyes in agreement. "He'll tell us that we should get over it."

Alex kept silent. It wasn't the same for him. He'd lost friends, but they'd lost two men who were practically their brothers. Alex briefly remembered losing Ian and shuddered. As complicated as his feelings were for his uncle, his death had been harsh.

"I've - I've never lost anybody like that," confessed Jackal vulnerably.

Alex almost expected Pelican to make a snappy comment, but the normally sarcastic man was entirely sincere in his reply. "Me neither."

Of course, that wasn't entirely true. Alex knew that both men surely had seen comrades die more frequently than he would want to imagine. He himself had seen plenty of people die, and some of their deaths had hurt more than others. A unit member was different, though, and Alex knew that L-Unit had been together for years. It was the first time the two men would have to deal with losing not one, but two of their own.

There was silence again.

Jackal broke it. "We're going with you.

Alex looked up. "What?"

"We're going with you," Pelican said, and his lips twisted in a harsh imitation of a smile. "After Scorpia."

"I'm not going anywhere," he protested weakly. "At least, I haven't decided anything yet. The man could be a spy - "

"Fuck him," Jackal said, his voice a terrible, deadened thing. "If he wants to help, let him help. If he tries anything, he'll be dead."

"He was right, too," Pelican said in the same tone. "About MI6. About your friends. About - "

Alex hastily nodded. "The Sergeant," he began a futile argument.

"Goddammit, Alex!" Jackal was up and pacing, fist clenched. "They're going to pay. You said they didn't have to kill anybody, so why the fuck did they kill them?"

He didn't have an answer, and to be honest, he didn't want one. He had already decided to listen to the man and see what he had to say, and he sure as hell was planning on rescue Tom. With Jackal and Pelican, he wouldn't have to worry about getting betrayed in his sleep. They could take turns keeping guard, protect each other.

Was it the right thing to do?

Alex looked at the two men and hesitated. He didn't want anybody else to die, but he couldn't argue against the desire to see Scorpia taken down. At the very least, he wanted them to know that if they hit him, he'd hit back. Who did he have to hit for him now, anyway? MI6 was content to let him be bait. He could have died, and they wouldn't have done a bloody thing. The Sergeant, well, he seemed to be an ally but Alex couldn't expect his help as soon as he left the SAS camp. He was by himself now, a position he didn't find entirely unappealing.

He nodded. "We'll plan something," he said quietly. "We'll get them back."

It might not be the right thing to do, but who gave a damn?

Harrison was bloody tired, but more than that, he was frightened.

Where was everybody? He had been peacefully sleeping in a tent with his unit-mates, when he'd been roughly shaken by Turtle, one of the unit leaders. The man had hissed for him to get up and stay silent before disappearing, presumably into the girls' tent. He'd watched in sleepy-eyed bewilderment as the SAS men swiftly packed up, clearing all evidence that they had ever set camp, and Harrison had stumbled along after them with the rest of his classmates as the men lead them efficiently through the forest.

He would have thought it was a training exercise, but he had heard gunshots. Gunshots. Harrison considered himself fairly observant, and he'd definitely seen Turtle tighten his grip on his gun. Now, Colin and his unit were missing and they had been sent to bed like children.

It was morning, now, but even the bright sun didn't erase his fear. He sat in the mess hall with the other children and poked at his scrambled eggs without any desire to eat. The chatter was subdued, as they weren't quite sure whether what had happened last night. Harrison didn't speak much. He sat in a corner with his football buddies, who were hotly debating what had happened, and hoped desperately it had been a training exercise and Colin was safe.

A movement came from the entrance, and he turned in his seat to see the Sergeant. "Silence, you lot," the beefy man yelled, and a hush settled. "I'm sure you're worried about what happened last night," the Sergeant continued before saying something Harrison didn't expect: "Congratulations."

He blinked.

"You've survived your first dangerous situation module," the Sergeant said loudly over the excited murmurings that sprang from the kids. "We wanted to see which units could evacuate the fastest. The slowest unit had been 'abducted' and is awaiting the next stage of the operation."

Harrison closed his eyes in relief. It had all been a drill. Around him, his friends were exclaiming that Colin was lucky and was having an adventure, and even Harrison allowed himself to smile.

The Sergeant raised his voice. "Don't think this is over! Over the next week, you will have to keep your wits about you! Nowhere is safe. Your unit may be running laps when you will be forced to flee, or you might be eating breakfast. Stay with your unit and be smart. May the best unit win." He stared intimidatingly over everybody before sharply turning and striding away.

Chaos exploded as everybody began talking at once, claiming how their unit was the best and was going to win. Harrison cheered up and joined in the talk, proudly boasting with the rest of them, though a small part of him kept worrying about his friend.

Alan Blunt pursed his lips thoughtfully and checked the date.

Despite yesterday's setback, everything should be going according to plan. He smiled; he was much anticipating the next step of the operation.

Check.

Alex lay on his stomach amidst a flurry of maps, reports and other various papers, chewing thoughtfully on a stick of beef jerky and flipping a pen around his thumb.

To his left, Pelican was engrossed in a thick file he'd managed to steal from the Sergeant concerning Scorpia. He seemed entirely unconcerned that he had just exploited a potential security risk, and Alex didn't think it was appropriate to push him further. He'd figure out a way to tell the Sergeant later.

Jackal was still red-eyed and liable to snap at any moment, but he'd managed to pull himself together long enough to begin a list of supplies and how they would obtain them. The three of them were operating under the assumption that they would not be receiving any help. The Sergeant had made it clear that Alex was not to go after Scorpia.

Alex had a few doubts about their rescue mission, but at the same time he did not feel as if he could trust MI6 again. That was why the three of them had spent the last day and a half holed up in L-Unit's cabin, which they had spent a good two hours cleaning before the Sergeant had come to check on them. Jackal had nearly broken down in tears before the Sergeant, claiming he needed 'closure,' and the man had backed off instantly and allowed them to stay inside the hut. Alex wasn't sure whether Jackal had been acting, but it sure had worked. They'd been left undisturbed.

Pelican looked up from his file. "They don't have anything on the whereabouts of the Scorpia headquarters," he said in frustration. "They have past locations, and I suppose we could try to derive some sort of pattern, but we don't have the time or skills."

The other two looked up. Alex bit his lip. He knew that Scorpia frequently switched locations and had decoy headquarters to throw their opponents off, and that it would be nearly impossible to find them on their own. "We could meet with that man," he suggested. They hadn't fully discussed this yet, and he wasn't sure what the other two would think. Hell, he didn't know what he thought of the mysterious man.

"It's too risky," Jackal said at once. "We don't know anything about him."

"He's meeting us here," Pelican said thoughtfully. "On our home front. And you have an advantage; he doesn't know we'll be coming."

Jackal shook his head. "He seems to know an awful lot already," he pointed out. "By letting him pick the location, he could have plenty of time to lay a trap."

"I technically can't go," Alex interjected, remembering the Sergeant's command. "I'm forbidden to contact him, but you two aren't. You could go without me."

They turned to him. "We're already going against his orders," Pelican said in exasperation. "One more can't hurt."

"The way he worded it, though," Alex said thoughtfully. "He forbade me to contact the man and go after Scorpia by myself."

The three of them pondered the implications of that.

"Do you think," Jackal began, hesitating. "Do you think he wants us to go?"

Despite himself, a smile appeared at the corner of Alex's mouth. He'd thought the Sergeant was on his side, and to hear him abruptly dismiss him back home had stung. Perhaps this was the Sergeant's unofficial way of condoning their little trip. He wasn't stupid, after all. He would have to know that Pelican and Jackal would want to seek out Scorpia as well, yet he hadn't forbidden them to do anything. "He's even forcing us home for a few weeks," Alex said. "Awfully convenient, huh?"

"It's standard," Jackal said absently. "We call it 'leave to grieve.' You have a point, though."

Pelican shrugged and flipped another page in the file. "You want to stay here, then?"

"I don't want to," Alex protested. "I just think it'll be a better idea. If you take some sort of way to contact me, I can be backup in case things go wrong."

It was true. He did desperately want to go, but logically, it would be smarter to have somebody behind, and to acquiesce with the Sergeant's command. That way they could legitimately claim they didn't disobey any orders.

Pelican ran his tongue along his teeth before nodding. "We'll meet him," he said, "And then we'll all go home for leave. You visit MI6 and see if there's any truth to what the man said, and we'll ask around for information and get supplies."

"That could work," Jackal said slowly. His mouth twisted into a cruel grin. "Scorpia won't know what hit them."

The spy was not entirely unsurprised to see two figures walk towards their chosen meeting space. He was glad that Alex wasn't stupid or reckless enough to meet an unknown ally or enemy in a pre-determined location without backup. However, as the two drew closer, he realized with a shock that Alex was not there at all.

Why?

Had they detained him? Was he in the hospital due to an injury? Had he decided not to take the bait? Had MI6 fed him more lies, or had they swiftly secreted him away?

The spy narrowed his eyes. If anybody had put a finger on his tool, they would die. Alex was his. He'd put in all the effort to rescue the boy from the web of lies he was caught in. He deserved the pay-off.

"Identify yourselves," the spy called out as the two walked closer. It was definitely the two unit members that had been left alive, but he was curious to see whether they would lie to him.

"We're allied with the person you wanted to meet," the broader one replied after a moment's hesitation. That was Jackal, if he was recalling them correctly.

The spy nodded approvingly. He wouldn't want to meet them if they were daft enough to reveal their names. He jumped down from his perch on the roof, rolling lithely to absorb the impact of the fall, and got to his feet.

There were two guns pointing at him.

"Relax," the spy said amusedly. "I was simply coming to meet you. It's safer to meet inside."

"I don't think so," the skinny one, Pelican, said. He held his gun steady. "We're not going to meet in a space you chose, and if my suspicions are correct, I doubt you would want to work with somebody who would go inside that warehouse."

He smiled delightedly. Brilliant. Not only did the two men reveal that they were aligned with Alex, they also professed a desire to work with him. Naturally, the spy didn't trust them. He didn't trust Alex either, come to think of it, but he was confident enough in his abilities to follow them to a new location. He was stronger, faster, more lethal than both of them - three, including Alex - combined.

He had been trained for this type of thing, after all. For a brief second, he allowed a triumphant grin to cross his face. To think, the skills they had provided him would be used to remove them from the world; he found it fitting.

He followed the two men to another similar warehouse, where he was prodded to enter in front of Jackal. The large building was dusty and housed a few tables and chairs, covered with large tarps. Once they were all inside, he found himself facing two guns. "Talk," Pelican ordered. "Quickly, we don't have much time."

Curious. The spy began the speech he had prepared for Alex, tweaking it slightly to fit two soldiers instead of one boy. "You know who I originally invited," he referenced Alex and the two nodded. "I've had my eye on him for a while."

"Why?"

The spy smiled unpleasantly. "We have mutual interests."

Jackal shifted forward. "Explain."

"I was like him, you know," the spy said conversationally. "A tool."

Pelican's lips quirked slightly. "And I suppose you got tired of this," he said, his voice mildly sarcastic, "and want to take down the people that enslaved you. Let me guess: Scorpia."

The spy inhaled sharply and glared for half a second before he caught himself and shrugged noncommittally. How dare that man dismiss his concerns, his motivations, as if they were nothing? The spy seethed with rage. Scorpia had trapped him, and he had hated it, and now they were going to be destroyed for daring to contain him. Pelican raised a cool eyebrow and the spy forcibly resisted the urge to dispose of him with a well-placed bullet. "Astute," the spy managed instead, forcing his emotions away. "I see why Alex likes you."

"Let's say we believe you," Jackal interceded bluntly. "Why should we help you?"

"You outnumber me," the spy pointed out, regaining some of his former control. "You don't trust me, so I couldn't easily lead you into a trap. I've told you nothing but the truth so far, and Alex will find that out one day."

Pelican was still watching him with strangely perceptive eyes. The spy wanted to fidget, an urge that was foreign to him. He felt uncomfortable under Pelican's derisive stare. "You don't think we need to trust each other to work together, do you," he commented lightly before nodding once. "Agreed."

Jackal shot a single bewildered look at Pelican, who countered it with a look that the spy could not decipher. Visibly backing down, Jackal turned to the spy and nodded his agreement. He clearly didn't understand why Pelican had decided to help the spy, but for whatever reason, he deferred to Pelican. Interesting.

Pelican watched the spy with a calculating gaze as they hashed out the details. He wouldn't be able to explain why he had agreed to this plan if not for one thing: he recognized the man.

Unbidden, a smile curled his lips. Interesting indeed.