I sat there holding my son and thought about my life. So much had changed in the two years since the Sankehead operation. For one thing I'm a sixteen year old with a two year old son. I would have never guessed. For another thing for the past two years I have been held captive. It had started when Sabina had come over. The remainder of the Snakehead I had trashed had come. They had killed my tail and then broke into my house. They killed Jack but took me and Sabina prisoner. We had stayed in the cell together for days. And we got closer. Then we finally dropped all of our boundries- we got physical. Nine monthes later Sabina died in child birth. Thats how I had gotten the little boy I now held in my arms. That day had benn one of the saddest in my life. My one love, Sabina had died, but she had given me a wonderful gift. A child.

My jailers had suprisingly let me keep my son, they named him though. Instead of a proper name they named him the name Cub. I had almost laughed at that. How ironic that they had given my son the same name that was my code name in the SAS. I looked down at my son as he slept in my arms. I was saddened by what I saw. My son, Cub Rider had endured what no child his age should. He had none of the fat that all babies have, he couldn't cry like others did because he knew that if he did he would be beatten by our jailers and his eyes showed that he had seen evils that no child shold see, his brain held more knowledge than most other childre his age did.

It's strange to be saying this about my son because I am a child myself. It's funny, father and son both just children, both seeing what children shouldn't have to, both with a seriousness the father knew didn't belong with their ages, both with nothing but each other. I know how similar we are to each other and I hope that Cub wont become more like me and have even more burdens to bare. I always try to protect my son but there was only so much a sixteen year old being held captive could do, and it often isn't enough.

Though we were no longer being kept in a jail cell there wasn't much of a diference. We were being held on one of there training grounds. For some reason, I had no idea why they made me train with them- running, shooting, fighting all of it. They trained Cub as well. He was a incredibly fast runner for his age, he knew how to use a gun and if for some reason he ever got into a fight with another child- one five or yonger- he would win and unlike every other child his age his movments were all gracefull from all the martial arts he knew- he haredly ever tripped. Alex taught him too, though he mostly educated him. Cub could speak English, Spanish, French and German he spoke each language with the same fluency and spoke as well in each of them as a three year old would if they were native to any of those contries and he was only two! Though he did sometimes mix all four languages together while speaking he was usually able to sort them apart. I was incredibly proud that he was so smart and wondered if I was as could do as much when I was his age. I doubted it. I also taught him how to hide his emotions, listen to others conversations and how to hide. I was saddened to teach him that but It was neccesary to his survival but I was still proud that he was so good at these things.

We had to do chores. I would do things like cleaning bathrooms and cooking and doing laundry and putting away equipment and Cub would help me with the esier parts of my tasks. I had long ago stopped atempting satbootage because it always ended in me and Cub being hurt. I still longed for mine and Cub's ecscape but I knew it was impossible. This place was two well gaurded for me and Cub to ecscape. I could proobly pull it of by myself but I would never leave my son by himself in this horible place.

I looked outside. I was dawn again. I decide to let Cub have some well deserved rest and got up to start our chores when I froze. I heard machine gun fire. Not the type from a shooting range but the type from real combat. My son shot up from where he lay looking around franticly. I scooped him up and held him protectively. I walked over to the corner of our tiny room and held onto my young son. I knew that the sargent in charge would punish me for not helping them later. I didn't care though. I hoped that whoever they were fighting won. Then mabey me and my son could go somewhere safe

The shooting stopped after what seemed like hours. A almost screamed when the door was thrown open but I controlled my self as did Cub. I pushed my son behind me as they spun around the room pointing there guns all over. They rested on me. They were about to shoot when I yelled "I'm a prisoner not the enemy." They didn't relax there guns but they didn't shoot ethier.

Then I heard it. A fimiliar voice. "Cub?" it said.