Prologue

Alex paused slightly after writing his postcard to Ben. Did he really want to do this? The answer was of course yes, he had to. If he carried on at this rate he would be dead before his 17th birthday and that was only a month and a half away. He could hardly stand on his feet he was so tired and yet MI6 had him running around for his life while every other agent got the day off. It wasn't right but nobody could pull them up for it. Not only were they above the law but there were also very few people who actually knew what was going on who actually cared and not one of those people was in a position to do anything about it.

Ben and Smithers would both lose their job if something arose against Alex being a minor but pulling more than his fair share for the country, not that they hadn't already tried. Tom and Sabina were both underage and so could not take MI6 to court anyway. Tom's parents knew nothing about Alex and Tom was having a busy enough time to stop them from killing each other. Sabina was in America and had not seen Alex in a while and so did not really know the toll MI6 was having on him. He certainly didn't want to worry her anyway. And Jack was dead. Alex still winced at the memory even though it had been nearly 3 years ago now.

No Alex had to do this. He wiped away the tear that was forming in the corner of his eye. He had not cried in so long. He was surprised to realise that he had not shown a single emotion in about a year. This was yet another reason he was leaving.

He couldn't go on in this way.

He picked up 2 bags. One held everything he personally owned. There were 2 pictures in it; one of him and Ben and the other was of his parents and uncle the day before his parents died. It had clothes and gadgets and anything and everything that could be linked somehow back to him.

The other held a set of plain clothes, a phone that he had bought about an hour ago and had not used yet, money, a set of green contact lenses and some brown hair dye.

He set the contents of the first bag around the room. He threw the clothes around and placed the photos on the set of draws by his bed. He jumped on his bed and made it scruffy. The flat looked like he had never left. The kitchen was messy and there were plates stacked ready to be washed. He surveyed his work. It was perfect. It had to be.

He picked up the second bag and walked out of the flat that he had been staying in for the last few weeks and on to the street. He posted the postcard to Ben.

Then he disappeared.

Ben walked into his and Alex's flat after a long day at the Royal and General. Who would have known that paper work would be so tiring? He didn't bother to answer that. He knew that there must have been a reason Alex chose school over the paper work. Unfortunately Ben didn't have that option. He normally just had to sit around and help with the fact considering that he had only really just started with MI6. After all, he'd had a medical leave so that he could rest after being shot in Australia; a luxury Alex never got. He'd only done about 5 missions in 2 years. That was nothing compared to Alex; nothing at all.

"Where was Alex anyway?" Ben found himself thinking. Wasn't he meant to be back by yesterday? He was only gathering information after all. Not a hard mission for him.

He picked up the post from that had come through the letter box that morning; a postcard and a bank statement. Thank God it was a real one not just a summoning from his work. He flicked the postcard over to see who it was from. There were just 5 words.

See you in Hell Ben.

It was written in such perfectly formed letters that anyone else would have thought that it had been typed. Ben recognised the handwriting immediately but what did it mean?

Ben walked straight up to Blunt's office with only 2 questions in mind; what did the postcard mean and why did Alex send it to him? He knocked twice sharply at Bunt's door before letting himself in. He threw the post card on the desk so that Blunt could see the writing.

"Where is he?" Ben demanded, not caring if the answer was classified. Ben just wanted answers.

"I don't know." Blunt sighed. "He stopped reporting last week and no one has heard or seen a trace of him since. SCORPIA haven't reacted in anyway. It was like nothing had happened. I was hoping that he just forgot to report but he didn't come back yesterday or report the day before."

"You mean he's . . ." Ben trailed off not wanting to say it or make it final.

"For all intents and purposes, yes, he's dead."

"And you didn't think that something was wrong when he didn't report? He always reports. He's too good just to not bother. He's your best damn spy and you know it! How can you just . . . Don't you feel any remorse? Are you even ashamed that you used him and ended his life so young?" Ben rambled, tears falling silently down his cheeks as he shouted at the head of MI6. Then he was silent for a moment as he stared Blunt straight in the eye with a look of pure hatred. He turned sharply on his heel and walked out pausing only when he was closing the door to croak, "How could you do that you soulless bastard?"