DISCLAIMER: I, unfortunately, do not own Alex Rider and anything you recognised.

A/N: Yes, the plot is a bit over used as of yet. However in later chapters it will change slightly so it'll have a nice tweak to it. The name and summary as of yet makes no sense but it will do soon. I have a general plot, it's not set in stone and could change but I have a main idea and I'm sticking to it.

Alex Rider was sick of constantly have bullets kicking up the ground where he ran. He was also sick of people treating him as though he had no clue about anything. He was 17 years old and what did he have to show for it? Most people his age had a girlfriend, a few friends and a low paying job on the side of attending college or sixth form. He sat at home, getting paid to go on missions and he had no support group. He had no family or a guardian, after Jack had died he had convinced MI6 to let him stay at home alone. Tom had eventually moved in with Jerry, living the life in Italy. Although, Alex had never liked Italy. Of course Alex missed his friend. But he hadn't spoken up when Tom had moved away, after all he needed it. Tom's home life was becoming increasingly more dangerous.

That left Alex alone. That suited him perfectly well, thank you very much. He only had himself to think about. It was a relief from constantly worry about people he associated with and now he just had Alex. Alex smiled as he walked out of the empty flat block that he was considering buying a flat in. He was trying to expand his properties so he would have a safe place to go if he ever had to lay low. Of course as soon as he had crossed the road from the flat block it blew up. Alex watched the building with a hint of weariness in his eyes. Buildings didn't just blow up out of nowhere. It was purposely tailored to explode and he was probably supposed to be in the building.

The sound of blades alerted Alex, he looked up and saw a helicopter lifting up. It was black, shiny and had a silver scorpion on. Honestly Alex was surprised that all this business he had been mixed up at age 14 hadn't been picked up on by the public. The corporations were barely incognito. Alex ran a hand through his hair, an agitated look plastered on his face. He had yet again barely escaped death. Honestly, he was getting sick of being shot at or people just trying to kill him in general. However, he couldn't just send out nice letters asking people if they could please stop trying to kill him. Well, he could. That wouldn't make any difference however. By now public had began appearing, gawping up at the building. Alex could even hear the faint sound of sirens.

He really couldn't get a break.

Alex stood in front of Alan Blunt's desk. He was, understandably, pissed off. Mrs Jones, as always, sat beside him on his left. They sat in silence, staring at the teenager. Neither of the parties was eager on breaking the silence as they had a silent stare down. Jones was confident that Alex would leave more wound up than he entered after he heard Blunt's solution to the problem. They had both agreed it was the safest option for him and had a valid excuse. It wouldn't do for their top spy to drop dead outside of a mission because they were unable to protect him. That would just make the other agents wonder for their safety, since they were lower profile and effectively their system would come undone.

MI6 was organised in a system, it was true. It was easier to handle. The tech geeks were in the basement, unable to be reach unless the lift had authorisation from someone with a clearance level 5 or above, and the basement would go on lock down in case of a breach. The tech geeks were the most valuable resource MI6 had. The agents with the clearance levels 12 through 6 reported to Crawley. The agents with clearance level 5 through 3 reported to Jones and only agents with a clearance level of 2 or 1 reported to Blunt directly. The lower level agents would receive missions that were as simple as finding people and bringing them in and low risk level surveillance. The medium level agents had the more risky missions, a few surveillance and terrorist groups. The top level agents were given the suicide missions. Surprisingly, Alex was a top level agent. Clearance level 2 (but on need to know only due to his age, as soon as he turned 18 the information would become available if he needed to know it or not) he had gone on suicide missions. The surprising part is that he survived every single mission.

"How the hell was Scorpia, in a fucking helicopter that was about as discrete as a god damn elephant parading around in a show girl costume, able to fly across fucking London? How the hell was Scorpia allowed to blow up a building and almost kill me?" Alex said in a steady voice, it would've been far less nerve wracking if the teen had yelled. Yet he stood there, the picture of calm and poised. However, the heads were not fooled. Alex was furious. In fact, furious didn't even scratch what he felt towards the company that promised his safety and good pay if he stopped resisting every damn time they tried to call him in and send him off.

"Honestly, it was quite unexpected." Blunt said in his monotonous drawl. "We should've expected it as five minutes before the building went up Scorpia delivered a message that was rather descriptive of how they managed to do it. Based purely on gloating. At the end they finished it 'Now it's time for your best spy to die.'" Alex almost sighed in annoyance.

"And you couldn't have you know, phoned me to alert me that someone was going to try and kill me?" Alex took deep breaths; already knowing someone really fucking hated him. If God was real he knew that he obviously despised the spy and he would have a nice trip to hell.

"That wasn't our main priority." Blunt said rather bluntly. "We had a small issue we had to deal with. Now onto the issue of your safety." Alex couldn't help but stare at Blunt as if he had two heads. He head just almost been fucking blown up and he wanted to talk about his safety which should have never been a problem in the first place.

"Oh, so since I didn't die you decided that you can be bothered now?" Alex spat.

"We can't have our best agent dropping dead on us, can we now?" Blunt's face was straight and showed no trace of emotion.

"Of course." Alex mumbled to himself.

"You will be sent to a SAS camp. K Unit are there in the pause between missions. You will join them, train with them and live amongst them until we decide otherwise. When they go on missions you will stay behind and continue training. At any time we can pull you out for a mission." Blunt explained. Alex wondered if this man was an asshole at birth or if he had to work at it. Alex, personally, thought that it was probably at birth, no amount of working at it you couldn't reach this amount of assholeness unless it was at birth.

"Oh hell no." Alex protested. "You know, I'd rather be killed painfully by Scorpia. I can phone them up, set up a place and time and even what weapon and method they'll be using." Alex could've sworn he was a cold smile work at Blunt's lips. If he was correct it was so minuscule that it was barely noticeable.

"You don't have a choice in this matter." Blunt informed him. Then again, when did Alex have a choice? No matter how much he tried to fool people he was just a kid at heart. He never really got the chance to be one. He had been trained his entire life. He distantly wondered what it would be like to run around with friends, laughing and being carefree rather than constantly being taught new languages and his uncle training him. He'd never been given the opportunity to try it his entire life.