Hi! :D Thanks for clicking on my story! :) So I'm just giving the whole Alex and K-Unit thing a shot, because honestly, it looks like SO MUCH FUN.I think I made Wolf too mean, though. :'D my bad. So here goes nothing, first chapter down! :)

Uh, just wanna throw a warning out for strong language. I use a lot of that in here, haha.

Oh, and ignore the weird tense changes. I kind of went from past-tense to present-tense back to past-tense without noticing. D: Sorry about that. The story was intended to be past-tense, and will be for the remainder, except for this little mishap, haha.

This chapter isn't really meant to be informative, other than the situation they're in. I'll go into more detail about Alex and his mission and all that jazz later on. :) Thanks for reading!

The sun beat down on the streets of the heart city of Sri Lanka. Colombo -ever bustling with rushing civilians- had recently been hit by a massive heat wave that had people scrambling for shade and water. The beaches became highly populated, and there was no way to get anything done in an organized fashion- no, not on the busy streets of Colombo, where merchants are hollering deals in multiple languages, and if you're not careful, you could be run over. A blond head bobbed down the crowded lane with impressive ease, sliding through crevices and spaces in the mass of people. He skillfully dodged around a fruit cart, and ducked under a rug balanced on a woman's shoulders. The air was dry and thick, and the blond's hair was matted down with sweat. He licked his lips, eyes searching faces like a tiger prowling for prey.

He spotted a man, tall, dark-skinned, obviously a tourist. The man was squinting, and he muttered something to himself, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The blond stuck close to the crowd, staying a safe distance. Tall, dark, and handsome stepped into a small bar, and the blond followed behind stealthily.

The bar barely made the cut of "middle class". The bar stools were wobbly, with rips in the cushions. The man sat on a stool and nearly tumbled over. The blond, across the street, snickered. He approached the bar with complete ease, stepping across the creaky floor, towards the man. Now in the bar, the blond could observe much better. There's a single window, stained glass, dirty enough for the colors to all blend into a colorfully muddy color. There's a pair of men in the back corner playing cards, though the blond cant tell what game. There are few booths, and even fewer tables. And judging by the look the bartender gives him, the blond supposes this is the kind of bar where you get in, you pay good money, and you get out. No questions. Approaching the man, the boy trips, tumbling into a firm back. The man at the bar turns, surprised and irritated, and the boy holds up his hands, head bowed. "Sorry! Ginoo, sorry!" The boy added an accent to the apology- Filipino was a language he had only just begun to learn, and the only one he felt he could pull off in Sri Lanka. It wasn't like he spoke Tamil or Sanhala. No, definitely not.

The boy doesn't wait for a response, and instead, makes his way back to the bathroom. He closes the door behind him slowly, and searches the wallet with unbelievable speed. He pulls out seven $20 bills -American currency, he notices in amusement- and two of the credit cards, slipping them into the pocket on the inside of his pants. He closes what's remaining of the wallet and slips it into his back pocket, this time. There's a window -grimier than the ones in the front, if possible- that hangs askew. The toilet is just under the window, and the boy uses it to push himself up and wiggle out. He lands sloppily, nearly falling to his knees in the dusty alley. He touches his fingers to his back pocket to ensure the wallet is still there, and allows himself a smirk. Success.

He nonchalantly saunters out of the alley, turning away from the bar. With the money he's just scored, maybe he can afford a decent hotel. Or decent food. Begging gets old quick, you know. The street's hustle and bustle intensifies a few feet ahead, towards the major intersection, and the boy turns into another alley, not wanting to bother with traffic. He approaches the opposite mouth of the alley, and takes a step out, but-

He's harshly pulled back and slammed into the brick wall of the alley. His cheek is pressed against the bricks, his entire front pressed firmly against the wall. The impact of his skull against the wall makes him see stars. It takes him a moment to realize the man is talking. "... fuck is it, kid?" A man hisses vehemently. The boy licks his lips, shaking his head against the bricks, which are shockingly cool. He wonders why more people don't chill out in the alleys on blistering days like this.

"Ano? Ano? Hayaan pumunta!" The boy yells out, surprising himself with fluent Filipino.

"English, kid!"

A hand begins to search him.

"Maghintay!" The blond shouts, twisting in the man's grasp, struggling to see a face. "Wait! What are you talking about?" He keeps the accent lightly laced in between pronunciations. He doesn't want to blow his cover yet. Not even to this bastard.

"Where. Is. My. Wallet?" The man all but growls, and the boy realized precisely what's happening here.

"I don't know what you mean, ginoo." The boy says, sounding puzzled.

"You know exactly what I mean, brat." The man is getting impatient, the hand beginning its search again.

"Ba-back pocket!" The boy yells finally. "It's in my back pocket."

The wallet is snatched out of the pocket, and the man releases him only to shove him back into the wall once he's turned around. "Who the shit are you, stealing people's wallets?" He sounds less angry now, but still quite intimidating.

To most people.

The boy doesn't seem to be bothered by the glare, or the tone, and instead shrugs, lowering his head. "Money doesn't grow on trees, ginoo. I'm poor. You have money. I need money."

There's a pause, and his hair is grabbed. Roughly, but not too roughly, his head is tugged upwards, and blue eyes meet brown eyes.

"... Cub?" The old nickname is so startling and unexpected that the boy jerks, eyes wide.

It doesn't take long for the boy to rethink his situation, and he wastes no time kicking out a foot, tripping the man up. The moment his grip on the boy loosens, the boy is shooting off, sprinting down the alley. There is only one reason he would be in Sri Lanka, and that reason is not in the boy's favor.

He shoots out of the alley, running into a disgruntled man, shoving through the crowd. Stealth forgotten, the boy is shoving and pushing, desperate. The temperature hasn't decreased, and sweat is beading on his forehead. He's not sure if its the heat causing him to sweat.

He takes only the smaller streets, which are noticeably less busy. Several blocks pass before he allows himself a look back. The man is nowhere to be seen. The boy slows, moistening his lips. This is bad.

He walks briskly, not quite convinced that he's in the clear, and heads towards his hotel. He's been staying in a very down class hotel. Maids that don't bother to make the bed, or even clean the bathrooms very well. Though the boy does notice frequent changes in the arrangement of the contents of his luggage. The breakfasts are health risks, but the boy doesn't eat much anymore anyway- often not without throwing it all back up. But that was unimportant. He functions well enough with water and a small meal.

Without noticing, he's begun to approach the hotel. The outside was just as grimy as the inside, sadly. Windows cracked, paint chipped, and some sketchy beggars have found a home in the old hotel. But alas, it's the only one he can afford.

He fishes in his pocket for his room key, and holds it up, sighing. This certainly wasn't how he planned on spending his summer. He's about to put it in his pocket when a hand grabs his wrist, spinning him around, and the boy expects the same dark, bemused face from earlier that he really hadn't expected to see in the first place, but, no, it's-

"Ben?"

Ben Daniels looked almost relieved that the boy remembered him, and smiled widely. "Long time no see, Alex."

Sometimes, Wolf hated his job.

Well, no, that's going a bit far.

Sometimes he really wished he wasn't the one picked for the tiresome tasks.

Wolf wasn't sure why his unit was chosen for this... this rescue mission. M-Unit had been sent out here, out to Sri Lanka of all places, to check out a suspicious turn of events. An underground black market, or something of the sort. Extremely toxic drugs and weapons not legalized without proper registration were being traded and passed around like candy on Halloween, and for some reason, the government decided to stick their noses into it. Really, wasn't that America's job? But anyway, M-Unit lost contact, and hadn't been heard from, so naturally, a rescue team was sent in. Which just so happened to be Wolf's unit. Again. It really wasn't like Wolf had anything else to do, but... he'd gladly go back to doing nothing if he didn't have to stand out in this smoldering heat. Sweating profusely, Wolf decided that he needed a much deserved drink.

The bars around the town weren't exactly LA spiffy, but he'd have to deal, considering he was thousands of miles away from LA. Stepping into a shady bar, Wolf decided that he'd kick anyone who told him he'd have to do something like this again in the face. Wolf sat down at the bar -covering up an almost-fail quite nicely, in his opinion, as the seat nearly gave beneath him- and ordered the first thing he saw. Anything cold would do by now.

He thought about making conversation with the bartender, but remembered his own trouble with social things, and kept his mouth sealed, instead focusing on how crappy the air conditioning was in this joint. The fans looked like they would break immediately if they were turned on. It took him a moment to realize they were, in fact, spinning around. Too slowly to actually produce any kind of air to comfort the bar's customers -which were only a few people, who looked used to this kind of weather- but they were moving. Wolf gave them credit for not having fallen to the ground. Actually, he kind of felt like he had to give the entire bar credit for not crashing down. It seriously looked like a safety hazard, what, with the slightly angled walls, and the unkempt booths, and what the hell was that thing on the grou-

Wolf is jostled forward, and he turns, ready to bitch out whoever ran into him, when he comes face to face with a blonde, dirtied face, with pleading blue eyes peeking out at him from behind his hair. The kid babbled an apology in -what was that, Filipino? Wolf was going to calm him down -he looked like he was going to have a stroke or something- but the kid was already heading to the restroom at the back. "Guess the kid had to go bad." Wolf muttered to himself, returning to his musings.

His drink was placed sloppily in front of him, and as Wolf contemplated slamming the guy's head into the bar for disrespect -this kind of stuff would never pass back in Brecon Beacons, but then again they didn't have bars back in Brecon Beacon- he takes a sip of the drink. Oh, so worth the wait. Jesus, he should order the first thing he sees more often, because this drink is out of this world, like seriously, his mind is being blown, and a hand jabs into his sights as Wolf downs the drink. The bartender is waiting for his pay. Wolf nods, fishing in his back pocket for his wall-

His wallet.

Which is...

Not there.

What the hell?

Okay, hold on. Wolf didn't lose things. Snake, sure. Eagle? Definitely. Fox? Sometimes, but always easily found items. Wolf? Never. Did he leave it at the hotel? No, he couldn't have. He brought it with him intending to spend some of the money he'd been given "for his troubles". So, then... Where could it possibly...?

Wait.

Hold on.

Holy... holy shit.

The babbling kid from before had bumped into him quite cleanly, Wolf remembered with a snarl. He shot up from the seat, ignoring the shout from the bartender, and kicked down the bathroom door. The room before him, unfortunately, expectantly, was empty. No kid. No wallet. No nothing, except dirt and flies. Wolf was going to kill someone.

He threw himself out of the bathroom towards the door. The bartender lunged out, grabbing his arm. "Money!" He snapped. "My money!"

Wolf turned, pressing the man into the bar, snarling in his face. "My. Money. Was. Just. Stolen. From. Me. Dickface." He shoved the man aside and sprinted out of the trainwreck bar, searching frantically. The mop of blond hair was bouncing and bobbing about a block over, he noticed as he began to push through. He'd catch that fucking kid if it were the last thing he did.

It took him forever and a day to finally catch up to the little bastard. He kept turning corners, going in backstreets, and quite frankly, Wolf felt like he was in a game of cat and mouse. And he didn't like it. Wolf always hated games like tag and cops and robbers when he was a kid, and his hatred for chase games didn't end here. In fact, he thought that if these people didn't move out of his way right now he was going to be put in jail for murder.

Finally -finally- he caught up to the kid in a damp alley, and took no time slamming him into the wall. Hey, no mercy for thieves, right?

There was a not-so-quick exchange and, in the end, Wolf got his wallet back. Damn straight he did. But when the kid turned, and Wolf got a better look, well...

Let's just say Wolf isn't easily stunned.

But he was now.

"... Cub?" He asked the blond dumbly. And it seemed he was right on the bulls-eye, judging by the way the kid's eyes widened with an odd sort of panic.

And then he was off, running like a cheetah. Literally, the moment Wolf stepped forward to pursue him, he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd of Colombo. Wolf wanted to kick something. Instead, he flipped out his phone, pressing a number. He tapped his foot impatiently, thinking that of all the times Ben answered on the first ring, he couldn't do it now.

Finally, - on what, the last flipping ring?- Ben answered with a, "'Lo?"

"Fox!" Wolf hadn't easily fallen out of his habit of calling the old member Fox. "Fox, I found him. Didn't mean to, but I found hi-"

"You found Alex?" Ben asked, sounding delighted. He laughed. "That's great! Where is he?"

"Kid ran off like a spooked horse, Fox," Wolf snapped, sighing. "Stole my wallet, the little brat. Least he gave it back." Wolf quickly sifted through his wallet, and froze. "That bloody brat! I'm going to bloody kill him! He stole my twenties, and my credits!"

Fox sounded nervous. "Wait, you lost him? Where- did you see what direction he went? Shit, Wolf!"

"Fox, my money!"

Ben's sigh was highly audible through the phone. "He's probably the only one running in a crowd like this... We'll find him. I'll go to the rooftops, you go behind the direction he went. We have to find him, Wolf."

Putting aside the robbery he was just victim in, Wolf started running after Alex. "What about Eagle and Snake?" They'd gotten a few applications for a new recruit for K-Unit, but before any serious debating was put into it, they'd been- well, shipped off here.

"They're here, came back from lunch a bit ago. We'll all go out and look, now that we have a solid lead."

"A'ight," Wolf said, snapping his phone shut and shoving it in his pocket. He didn't care that part of the mission was to find the spy sent to assist them since, really, this was a spy's mission, sneaking around in criminal territory, not a bunch of soldiers'. He was going to get his bloody money back if it was the last thing he did.

He earned that money, god dammit.

ginoo - gentleman, sir

Maghintay - Wait

Ano? Ano? Hayaan pumunta! - What? What? Let me go!

I used google translate for these since I definitely cannot speak Filipino, haha. So if you ARE Filipino, or speak it, sorry if it's wrong! :')