A/N: I'm re-reading Scorpia now, so my brain is sort of locked into that "era" in the series. What can I say, I write what comes. :)

Disclaimer: Alex Rider. Don't own it.


Scorpia never forgets. Scorpia never forgives.

That mantra has been drilled into my mind for several months now. And since I am Scorpia – or at least, a small part of it – it makes sense that I should also neither forgive nor forget. All that turn-the-other-cheek crap? Forget it. You tick me off, you'll find your face becoming acquainted with the bottom of my foot. If I'm in a good mood.

This is the point where many would tell you their name, and a little bit about them. Well, my name isn't important – and even if it was, there's no way I would tell you – and I just told you a little bit about myself. What's that? You want more? Well, you're lucky I just finished a mission. I'm feeling particularly generous right now.

On the outside, I'm your average Italian teenage girl. Not ugly – not by a long shot – but I'm no striking beauty, either. I'm fourteen years old, coming up on fifteen, and a bit small for my age. Besides English and Italian, I speak two languages fluently. I can pass as a well-educated tourist in three more. I can take down an adult twice my size without breaking a sweat. That enough about me? Yes? Good.

If you're reading this, you're either highly privileged, or just plain stupid. If you're privileged enough to have the security clearance required to read this, then congratulations. You are thought very highly of by Scorpia. If you're stupid enough to be reading this without security clearance...run. Now. Just run, and don't look back. I would hate to have to type this report up all over again just because you were careless enough to get your blood on this copy when you were shredded by a storm of bullets.

Now that that's out of the way, we can get get down to business. The following report details my first solo mission for Scorpia. My objective was simple: Kill an agent of MI6. I could practically do that in my sleep.

The target stepped out of his home at 4:37 in the afternoon. Judging from remarks shouted from within the house, he had a few errands to run. He hopped on his bike and began to pedal toward the city.

Now, as long as he had maintained that carefree pace, I would have easily been able to keep up with him. But to do so would attract unwanted attention, and that was the last thing I wanted. So I appropriated a bike for my own use and followed him at a discreet distance, waiting for an opportunity to get in front of him and get a clear shot at a lethal point. I would not mess up, unlike the man who went before me with this same objective. What happened to him...oh, yes. The sharks had a lovely meal that night.

I must admit, trailing someone for an hour while he goes grocery shopping is not my idea of a good time. But I wasn't there to have fun, I reminded myself; I had a job to do.

My opportunity came in the third store we visited. I began to think that he suspected something, because he didn't go about his business at quite so leisurely a pace. At that point, I decided to get set up outside.

I ducked into a side alley to make sure that no cameras could capture the act – media repression is so tedious. Then I waited until the target walked out of the store and turned to unlock his bike. I walked up and tapped him on the shoulder. Naturally, he turned to see who had touched him.

He found himself staring at the muzzle of my gun – the last thing he ever saw.

I was almost sad to kill him – almost. Under other circumstances, I might have liked him. But a target is a target, and any ally of MI6 is an enemy – and the target was both of those.

"Goodbye, Alex Rider," I said to his corpse as the screams began. "Mrs. Rothman sends her regards."


A/N: *evil cackle* Oh, yes, I did! I killed Alex! *dances*

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