March 3rd

Alan Blunt's place of solace was his office. White walls, dark rug, grayscale pictures of scenery adorning the wall by the door, a couple of comfortable chairs, and his beautifully crafted, oak wood desk. With his papers organized on its top and his hands clasped in his lap, he silently appreciated the stoic elegance of his workspace.

Blunt had always been a simple man in appearance. Plain clothing in terms of colour surroundings, and when one of his sons stepped on his glasses by accident, he never let them go crooked for more than a day. Of course, in mind, Alan Blunt was an enigma.

Blunt leaned forward in his office chair, straightened a pen, and moved his elbows to the desk, his clasped hands going in front of his chin. Out of context, he looked to be a man pondering simple thoughts- business matters, or other. In context, he was plotting the monopolization of one infamous young ward, Alex Rider.

The boy was becoming more and more resilient with each mission, and more resistant. While he had improved exponentially from being a young schoolboy introduced to the art of espionage, Alex had also become more hollow, more careless. Where he'd once value his life, he now strived nearly for destruction. He'd just gone on a mission, in fact, that had nearly taken his arm completely off in a car chase. And he'd brushed it off, not with a humble sense of recklessness, but with a nearly irritated sense of failure. Blunt foresaw only destruction in the boy's future if he didn't shape up. Or be whipped into shape.

Blunt glanced out the window, thoughtful, and allowed his lips to quirk up slightly. He pressed the intercom on the righthand side of his desk and cleared his throat. "Mrs. Jones, I'd like you to call in Alex Rider. I believe it's time to have a word with him."

There was a pause, only lasting a second at most, but Blunt recognized his colleague's hesitation nonetheless. She replied, "Yes, sir," with a tone laboured and ridden with regret. Blunt nodded once, and reminded himself to be thankful for no such feelings concerning Rider.

March 3rd

Alex's body jolts to life, and his eyes meet a nearly blinding white ceiling. His thoughts are muddled and when he tries to breathe, they come out as mere gurgles. He's lying on a metal table, there's a mask over his face, it's pumping drugged oxygen into his mouth. He lifts his hands to remove it, only to find them constricted to the table. Panic begins to rise in his throat as he kicks his legs, only to find their condition is similar to his arms. The light on the ceiling is making him squint, and he can't see until a broad-shouldered figure moves into view, blocking the light from his eyes. He hears a chuckle and a croon and a hand is on his shoulder, a syringe is injected into his throat. He's losing consciousness and a hand runs through his hair and with unforeseen roughness, the hand grabs his hair, lifts his head, and slams it back into the table. Alex hears his name, crooned repeatedly, tone changing from comforting to mocking to comforting to mocking. He can't breathe, he's losing consciousness, he's going to die-

"Alex."

Alex's eyes flung open and he looked to the side and Mrs. Tulip Jones was standing by his bedside to his left. He was being held down and wrangled by a group of nurses, who all looked as confused and afraid as he felt. Mrs. Jones muttered a dismissal, and after hesitant glances at Alex, they left. Mrs. Jones sat in the chair by the bed, and Alex glanced around the room. He was in a hospital, sitting in a bed with three pillows behind his back. Four IV's in his left arm, two in his right, one in his lower neck. No blinding light, no broad-shouldered man, no syringe. A hallucination? Alex dragged a hand across his face, sighing in relief and exhaustion.

"Hello, Alex," Mrs. Jones greeted, a crude reminder of her presence. He realized then that it wasn't a yell that had brought him out of his panic attack; she'd simply said his name. In a stern, constricting tone, she'd commanded him like a dog. Alex wondered if that was all he was to them.

Alex gave her a weary glance. "Mrs. Jones. I just got back from a mission, and I'm not exactly in pristine condition for another. I hope that's not why you're here." He didn't think it was, but he'd been wrong before.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Jones pursed her lips. She took a moment to answer, to find the words. "Mr. Blunt is requesting to see you in his office immediately after you are well enough to walk. The doctors have informed me that should only be a few days. I'm here to tell you ahead of time. We are sending a car to fetch you at noon on Sunday." She stood, smoothing her pencil skirt and folding her hands in front of her. Her eyes raked over him, and he felt uncomfortable in his own skin.

"What day is it?" Alex asked quietly, voice barely audible as Mrs. Jones turned to leave.

"Thursday." She replied without looking at him. She exited the room, and with a last side glance at him, she was gone.

Alex relaxed back into his pillows, using his thumbs to crack his knuckles. The sound reverberated through the room crudely.

March 6th

As he walked down the hall, Alex realized that he could find his way to Blunt's office blind. He laughed bitterly, startling he woman leading him. Once they arrived, the woman opened the door for him. Alex prepared himself the walk to a chair without a single glance at Blunt, but stopped the moment he stepped into the room. In front of him, in the chairs he had planned on sitting, sat four SAS soldiers. Immediately, Alex controlled his expression into one of minor surprise and exasperation. They, fortunately, could not seem to do the same. Alex recognized Snake, Eagle, and damn if it wasn't Wolf. And an unfamiliar face. Alex filed the man away for later scrutiny.

"Blunt." Alex acknowledged coldly, eyes examining the man coldly. Blunt stared back at him with his gray eyes filled with stoic pleasantries. Alex hated that about him. Hated that every time he was in this office, the only thing Alex could focus on was mirroring that unbreakable mask.

"Alex," Blunt returned. "Welcome, sit down."

Alex glanced towards the chair Blunt was referring. The back was to the window, and it sat between the soldiers and Blunt. "I'll stand, thank you." Alex wasn't about to paint a massive target on his back by sitting in the chair, thanks.

Blunt nodded once and said mildly, "If you insist." He turned to the soldiers, who still looked shell-shocked, though had the decency to try to look normal. "I do believe all but one of you have met. Ah- Panther, was it?" The unknown man nodded, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Panther is Fox's replacement, Alex. And, Panther, Alex trained with your unit for a few weeks... a few years ago. I can't seem to remember how many-"

"Three." Alex remarked almost reflexively. His eyes darted to Blunt's. The man's lips quirked, and Alex reminded that anything he did or said became chips for Blunt to use against him. He crossed his arms tighter over his chest.

"Yes, three," Blunt hummed happily. To the unit, he probably seemed more emotionless, but Alex could see the satisfaction in the way Blunt made Alex's nerves grind. "Well, I'm sure you're wondering why you're here. Alex, here, is a bit rusty when it comes to many things the SAS provide- gun training, hand to hand combat, agility... You see my point. We've agreed for Alex to return to the SAS and pick up where he left off. I've arranged for him to bunk with your unit." Alex had to hold back his scoff. Gun training, hand to hand, agility... He'd improved in those categories, if anything. What was Blunt playing at?

Wolf spoke up, eyes sharp with anger, voice controlled due to his position in this situation. "Sir, why are you putting him with us? And for how long?" Unable to help himself, Wolf grunted, "A child doesn't belong in the SAS, sir. He's no good there."

Immediately, Alex glanced at Blunt. The man's eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows raised slightly. The look of a man scorned, Alex thought. But after a moment's pause, Blunt nodded, as if agreeing. "Alex has experience in the field past your expectations, I assure you. If you're worried about him falling behind you all..." Blunt chuckled. "He won't."

Panther spoke up for the first time. "You're... Are you insinuating that his credentials are higher than ours?" He sounded incredulous.

Blunt locked eyes with the soldier, and Alex couldn't deny that he felt sorry. Blunt may anger Alex beyond logical thinking, but Alex would admit to the fact that with a single gaze, Blunt could convey his power and his will to use it. "That's exactly what I'm insinuating."

Panther's expression changed to surprise, and slight insult if Alex was reading well enough, and he clenched his jaw to prevent himself from speaking further. Wolf, however, had no problem with speaking further. "Sir, you can't be serious. We took him the first time- give him to another unit! I'm not sure you've thought this throu-"

"Sorry to interrupt, but I'm in the room with you, you know." Alex interjected. Though Wolf didn't know it, Alex was saving his ass. Sure, he was saving Wolf from Blunt's quelled rage, but it was a favour nonetheless. "I won't fall behind, I won't bother you. If it'll make you stop bitching-" Okay, that one had been for his own benefit, "-I'll even keep to myself." When Wolf failed to respond in time, Blunt clapped his hands once, bringing attention back to himself.
"Wonderful. Alex will return home and pack his things, and he will be joining you all tonight. Dismissed."

The unit stood and left, each giving Alex glances of their own genre. Snake's was thoughtful and suspicious where Wolf's was downright insulted. Eagle looked a bit friendlier, and Panther's only goal was to take as much in as possible. Alex figured if he were a grown man being told that a teenager was among his ranks (higher, but Panther didn't need to know that) he'd be pretty ticked, too.

"You're full of lies today; I hope you haven't saved some for me." Alex almost sneered. Blunt's expression was unwavering. "I'm sufficient in all the things you're sending me for. What's the real reason?"

Blunt ignored him, predictably. "A car is coming around to bring you to your house. There you will pack a suitcase full of things -no more than what will fill the suitcase we give you. Your house will be left unperturbed, and you will be there for as long as we see fit. Mrs. Jones will see you at the end of each week to evaluate you. When you finish packing, you will be transported to your new home by two of our agents. Are we understood?"

"Evaluate me on what?" Alex was almost offended. Was he a test subject for them to poke and prod?

"That is none of your concern."

"None of my-" Alex exclaimed, furious. He clenched his hands and grit his teeth, turning and leaving the room. Downstairs, a sleek, black car sat outside of the building, and Alex felt an urge to run home. He got in the passenger side, unspeaking.

They arrived at the Rider household in a matter of minutes. Alex had almost hoped the ride would go on for hours, and as he climbed out of the car and looked up at his house, he found himself hoping that the house would collapse with him inside.