They Call Me Casey.

SUMMARY: "CASEY!!" came a roar from the nearby vicinity. Casey winced. She probably shouldn't have written 'casey owns this' on all of the backs of Wolf's shirts. With un-washable purple ink.


DISCLAIMER: Never have & never will own Alex Rider, all rights go to Anthony Horowitz. Therefore I don't own K-Unit either. :'( tear. A tragic loss, I know.

CLAIMER: I DO own however - Casey Chambers and the real names of K-Unit. Basically, everything that you DON'T recognise belongs to me.

Oh! *points finger threateningly* Plagiarise my hard work and I castrate your sorry ass with a blunt wooden spoon.

WARNING: Swearing, violence, possible torture, etcetera, etcetera. I apologise now; I'm not familiar with British vocabulary, so bear with me. Oh, and I'll be using dollars for currency all the way through.

A/N: Welcome to 'They Call Me Casey'. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Ciao.


Part 1: The Streets.

Prologue

Her muscles screamed in agony as she pushed herself to her limits. She could hear the thundering footsteps of her pursuers, which were unlike her quiet-almost silent-ones. She darted into an alley and scaled the 12ft fence lithely. Just two more streets. Just two more. Finally she stopped and spun around, her blade materialising into her hand. Her pursuers, three males, slowed down, thinking that she was cornered. The middle one wore an ugly grin as they stalked closer. When they were about three metres away four people stepped out of the shadows of the alley and formed a square formation, with her in the centre. The three chasing her made to turn around but another three guys stood behind them, blocking their exit.

She stepped up with familiar ease to stand beside the guy in front of her. The leader of her pursuers glared.

"Get out of the way Carson. This isn't to do with you. Our business is with the bitch only."

Cain Carson's eyes darkened at the words. "The Prophets run these areas, Gibbon. You seem to have forgotten that your business is my business."

Gibbon scowled. "What is she to you, Carson? Just give us the girl."

Cain's stance turned casual. "Now, now Casey, you know that it isn't nice to mislead people. You should have told him your name; you know how poor Gibbon's memory is."

Casey shrugged lightly, her eyes glinting dangerously. "I usually don't have to; after all, Casey Chambers isn't a name that is easily forgotten."

Gibbon froze. Shock, horror and then fear ran across his face as he recognised the girl. Casey took a step forward, tossing her blade from her left hand to her right. "It seems that I might have to jog his memory."

"Chambers? Shit. We're sorry, we didn't realise that it was you." Gibbon stepped back hastily, his hands up. "We don't want no trouble with the Prophets. We wouldn't have chased you if we had known that it was you. We'll go now."

After Gibbon and his men had fled, the six remaining guys gathered together to form a circle. Casey smiled gratefully towards Cain. "Thanks. I didn't want start anything with Gibbon that would get his boys to try and 'avenge' him."

"No need to thank me Casey. We're family. And it was a smart move. His boys would have ended up as unnecessary blood spilt, and we don't need that on our hands."

Kimberly Oxford was standing on Casey's other side, the only other female there, and she was grinning. "You sure got him to run though Case." Casey had on a small smile as she glanced at the girl. She considered Kim her family-just as she considered Cain her brother. Cain and Kim were Casey's family. And god help her, anybody that tried to mess with her family had better know how to run.

Another guy ran up to them at that moment. She eyed him before she slipped her blade back into the sheath at the small of her back. Casey didn't bother looking at him, satisfied that he wasn't a threat. No, he was just a messenger. The red headed fourteen year old watched the movement for a second before he moved forward and handed Cain a note.

Rooney had always thought that Kimberly Oxford was stunning, but she paled next to her sister. And he realised why every male on and off the streets fell in love with her. Intelligent, badass, and already a body that screamed sex, Casey Chambers lived and succeeded any infamous and famous reputation that followed in her trail.

Cain read the note silently then passed it to Casey. Her eyes narrowed as she read the note. She inclined her head slightly and instantly, the two guys on either side of Rooney had grabbed his arms in vice like grips. Casey lowered the note and raised her narrowed eyes. Rooney looked back at her with wide eyes at the sudden tension that ran around the group.

"Who gave this to you?"

"I-I d-don't know. A black car just pulled up on the sidewalk beside me and some guy in a suit got out. He gave me the note and told me to give it to you and Cain."

"What did he say? Exactly. I want to know even the pauses."

Rooney blinked nervously. "He stopped me and said 'Rooney Stuckey. Take this note-give it to Cain Carson and Casey Chambers. Do not open it. I will know if you do, and if you don't give this to them. Here is your payment.' Then he gave me three hundred dollars and got back into his car and it drove off."

"How did he know your name?"

"I don't know. I swear I don't anything else!"

Casey nodded. "I believe you. Where's the money? Jai. Bradley."

Rooney protested when the two guys holding him frisked him down, quickly locating and pulling out the money. "Wait! Guys, please, I earnt that money fair and square! I need it to buy clothes for the coming winter."

Casey flicked through the bills, before pulling off a hundred and pressing it into Rooney's hand. The rest she folded up and slipped into her pocket. "This is how much you earnt. The rest is a punishment for bringing unsigned, possibly dangerous, notes to the CSC. If you need clothes, go to any store in the area of the Prophets. Just tell them that Casey sent you."

She turned her back on him to face Cain. Rooney nodded quickly, eager to get out of there. Casey turned her head to look at him once more. "Oh, and Rooney, abuse that privilege and I'll hunt you down."

Jai and Bradley let him go and he scrambled to leave the alley before anyone could call him back. Anyone who was anyone knew that Casey meant every threat that she uttered. And Casey's street crew, the CSC, weren't forgiving. Casey looked at the note again before her eyes met Cain's.

"I'm going."


Casey stood just outside the Royal & General Bank. The glass doors were clean; clean to the extent that it almost hurt to look at it. Too pristine, too meticulous-she didn't like it-and she hadn't even stepped inside yet. She stood straighter, and feeling the comfortable, familiar handle of her blade in the small of her back, she walked in. The inside was just as clean as the doors themselves, the marble floor polished till you could see every thing on your face in the reflection, down to the last flaw.

She didn't like it.

'We'll be waiting.'

True to the written words, there were two men standing beside a row of elevators, staring straight at her. She walked sedately towards them, her eyes catching every exit, every possible escape route. Nothing hinted towards danger, but anything could turn the tables against her. And when that happened, she needed her out. She had learnt that on the streets a long time a go.

'We'll be waiting.'

I don't want you going. It's too dangerous. Cain had objected, which wasn't in his nature when it concerned her. But she still got her way. He had learnt long ago that when Casey decided something, she did it, and no one-not even Cain-could stop her. This wasn't about thrills, or a sense of adventure.

This was about the note.

Casey didn't want to be here. She was just here for the god-given ride. And anybody that tried to fuck her up…they would pay.

She could feel the note in her jeans pocket and wondered if she was walking into a trap. That would be brilliant for the police if they managed to catch the notorious co-leader of the Prophets, and leader of the CSC. Brilliant for them. Not for her. She thought again about the note.

'We know about you Casey Chambers. We have monitored you since you were a child. We know about the shooting. We know about the cover-ups. We know why you left foster care.'

The shooting. No one knew about the shooting but Cain. And Cain would rather die a thousand painful deaths than sell her secrets for a little cash on the streets. This was Cain they were talking about-the guy had been her family for too long. The thought to sell her out wouldn't even cross his mind.

The shooting resembled her past-her past revealed where she came from. Nobody knew where she came from and she was going to keep it that way.

'We know about your parents. What they did for a living, why they died-and who killed them.'

And who killed them.

This was what it was truly about.

Casey stepped into the elevator, noting that they chose to stand on either side of her. For protection-or entrapment. She glanced at the little screen when the elevator stopped. They were on floor fifteen. There were a total of twenty-three, excluding the three sub-ground levels. Casey memorised all this quickly. It was for her out. No point escaping if she couldn't even get to the right floor to leave the damn building. She was behind one of the men, the other following behind her as they walked to wherever their destination was. Neither of them had spoken a word and Casey wasn't willing to break the silence. Not yet. She was content to wait it out. They walked past bland looking cubicles and doors with name plaques on them. Nothing suggested mafia-everything suggested government. And that was what worried her. Casey frowned, a tiny movement of her lips, the only emotion that she had shown since walking into the Royal & General bank.

Bank. If that was what it actually was. She didn't believe it for a second.

The two men stationed themselves on either side of the door, giving no indication of leaving or even if this was where her stop was. She didn't expect them to. Casey pressed the palm of her hand against the knob and pushed the door open. She didn't bother with knocking.

She never did.

There was a man and a woman inside the office, both dressed in office attire. They both wore expressionless masks, but she saw the flicker of irritation in the man's eyes at her entrance. Casey remembered the plaque outside the office door. Alan Blunt. The office was drab, bled of all colour; the only things that weren't were the red armchairs. She didn't doubt that someone had tried. The man inclined his head at her.

"We've been expecting you Miss Chambers. Have a seat."

She assessed for any danger as she walked towards the plush armchairs, and seeing none, she sat down. She still didn't speak. There was nothing that she wanted to say. The lady cleared her throat, opening her mouth to speak. The smell of peppermints floated towards Casey as she did.

"Hello Casey. Thank you for coming."

Casey's eyes flickered in irritation, much like the man's had earlier. "I didn't do it for you."

The woman cleared her throat again. "Thank you anyway. My name is Tulip Jones, and this is Alan Blunt. We are the co-deputy and deputy of MI6. And we need you."

"What makes you think that a few big words and names thrown around will make me fall to my knees for you?"

"You don't believe us." Jones said simply. Casey could have rolled her eyes. What a blatantly obvious statement. Jones placed a badge on the table and slid it over to her. Casey knew better than to pick it up. Fingerprints were something that the government didn't have of her. She wasn't going to change that. She observed the badge carefully. The ID read Tulip Jones, Co-Deputy, MI6.

"Badges can be faked."

There was a glint of respect in Jones' eyes when she realised that Casey had no intention of laying a finger on the ID.

"Yes they can." Jones agreed. "But we have no intention, nor need, to lie to you."

Casey's eyes flickered again, this time with caution, but they were the only signs of emotion. Jones pretended that she didn't notice and placed another mint into her mouth. Casey finally deigned herself to speak.

"I don't work for no one. Especially government."

"You will work for us." Blunt said calmly.

These-'MI6'-people symbolised everything that she despised. She didn't like the government.

She hated orders.

Blunt and Jones watched as Casey's dark blue eyes darkened. "Is that an order?" She said quietly, menacingly.

"I have a problem with authority. And I hate orders. Just because you can afford to sit there in your fancy suits does not mean that you can force me to do your bidding."

She stood up, her eyes never leaving Blunt's, daring him to challenge her on it. She didn't get her reputation from nothing. Her hands were itching for her blade but she didn't move. He didn't say a word until she turned around to leave.

"We need you-because you have nothing left to lose."

She paused, her hand on the doorknob. "I will never leave the Prophets. And if I have nothing left to lose, then I have no reason to do what you want."

"You should have thought about that before you came to me."

She opened the door and strode out. She didn't worry about fingerprints on the knob; she had made sure that her jacket sleeve wiped off any forensic evidence in the few seconds that it took her to open and walk through the door. Three steps away from the office, her two escorts resumed their previous positions and lead her purposely towards the lifts. Upon reaching the ground floor, Casey strode out of the lift first, eager to get away from this…place. As she walked out of the Royal & General bank, she thought about what Blunt had said softly, barely reaching her sharp ears, just as she walked out.

'You'll be back.'


A/N: What do you think?