Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

Rat glared at the darkening sky. At first they had been told they were luckily. The few, the elite. Rat grumbled under his breath. He now knew where they could shove their elite. Right up their –

"RAT!" The man's head snapped up. This was hell. Pure hell. Standing in the rain for three hours. For delivery of an…assassin! A freaking assassin! Beacon Beckons was not the place where the government shipped off their nut cases. Well sometimes…there were stories…

Suddenly there was a roar on an engine. Not surprising, it was hard to hear over the pounding rain. Slowly it lumbered into view. A nondescript white van. Rat saw another recruit shake his head. Rat silently agreed. The driver was going to have a hell of a time getting down the hill. It lumbered to a stop. Quickly the driver and passenger got out. Rat shook his head. M-16? (1) They had to be joking. They didn't need this kind of firepower to cover one man. The driver slowly approached the back, hunched in the rain. The suit didn't help protect him at all. As he pulled up a small ring of keys, there was a thump. Something inside that hit the left side of the van, rocking it slightly. Rat felt the first stirrings of fear.

"Get them out!" the other suit shouted.

Rat realized that this was were they came in. Quickly they, W-Unit and T-Unit, surrounded the van. The driver walked up to the back and unlocked it. Rat saw he was shaking. What the hell could be in there? The door snapped open, caching the other suit in the side of the head. Rat herd an awful crunch, and the man was down. The door hung open. Rat shifted the grip on his weapon. He was nervous, and not the only one. Suddenly a third suit flew out the back of the van and landed in the mud, still. There were a few more thumps, and someone fell, no threw, himself or herself out of the van. The person landed next to the suit. Rat thought it was another suit, until they stood up. That thought was instantly disbanded. They were male, that was obvious. But the rest was a mystery. The man was coved in mud, obscuring any feature. The fact that he was not a suit was easy. First, he was handcuffed. Second, suits don't, under any circumstance, throw each other out of vans. Thirdly, he didn't act like a suit. He was not a puppet, and, worst, shit, a recruit's worst nightmare. He was deadly, and he didn't care who he killed.

Rat shifted slightly to the right. Actually, he barley moved his foot. But that didn't matter. Snapping around, the killer looked at Rat. The assassin's attention was focused on him. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Don't mess this up. Sergeant will have you head…

Rat cleared his throat. "Put your hands up!"

The man looked at him. Then he slowly raised his hands above his head. Inwardly, Rat sighed. Good, he must have seen it was hopeless. Four men shifted forward to restrain the assassin. He stood there, hanging his head, and Rat let a little sorry from him. Sure he was a killer, but Beacon Beckons sucked. And being stuck here indefinitely wasn't to bright a prospect.

There was a soft grunt. And two of his men were on the ground. The assassin launched himself towards the man next to Rat. The recruit was down in a second. Rat couldn't tell if he was unconscious. Or worse. The killer turned toward Rat. Rat found himself facing empty, cold eyes. Rat tried to defend himself, but it was hopeless. His conscious thought was, I messed this up.

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(1) an M-16 semi-automatic machine gun. just some info, i will use the gun's names. I can just say, "Oh, look, there is a gun." But that is lame. The end