AN: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited! You inspired me to get off my lazy butt and write this! There definitely will not be updates every day all the time, but I'll try to be as fast as I can. That little spiel done, please review, and enjoy.

Disclaimer: Need I say this? It's horrible on my self esteem. Anyway, I do not own Alex Rider, nor have I even met Anthony Horowitz.

Alex could see Blunt opening his mouth to repeat his statement, so he quickly cut him off with a "This is ridiculous what the hell do you think you're doing?" speech.

While this shut Blunt up for a few minutes, he simply continued on as if he hadn't been interrupted at all, after Alex's spiel was complete.

"There is a car waiting out front for you. You will have one hour to pack, then you will begin the ride to Wales."

"Make sure to bring something to do," Mrs. Jones, or as Alex still like to call her, in his head of course- Mrs. Blunt, cut in. "It will be about a five hour ride, give or take about a half hour."

"Sure," Alex said icily, "thank you for being concerned about the state of my entertainment." Even Mrs. Jones flinched at his tone, and Blunt blinked, which was, in his case, the equivalent of a normal person jumping a few feet in the air and screaming. Unfortunately for those at the camp, Alex was officially pissed off.

Mrs. Jones seemed to sense this, despite Alex's undented facade, and attempted to placate him. "Alex," she started, in a faux-kind voice, a voice she often reserved for convincing people that they wanted the same things she did, but then was unable to continue.

"Since when has anything been for my benefit?" He asked, seemingly reading Mrs. Jones' mind. And with the silence left by that question hanging in the air, he walked out, with the deadly grace and poise that had been one of the first things he had noticed in Yassen. Yassen Gregorovitch, another relation left in the dust by Alex's destructive nature.

Though Yassen's death had been of his own volition, at some points he felt as if he were to blame. After all, it was because of him that Yassen had found it necessary to take the bullet.

"I wonder what he'd be doing, were he still alive?" Alex mused aloud. Five hours away by car ride, give or take about half an hour, one blond-haired, graceful MI6 agent sneezed.

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Back at his house, vaguely amused at the uncomfortable looks of the agents sent to "help him", Alex packed up for what he had been told was going to be a month long stay. Give or take a few weeks, Alex thought sarcastically.

Despite his calm outer shell, Alex was a whirlwind of emotions. Goddamnit, he was still mourning his best friend! That had to count for something, right?

Anywhere but here, Alex thought, anywhere but here.

But now was not the time for self-pity, he told himself. Not that it ever really was.

Alex stumbled home, head bowed, and tears pricking his eyes. The boys at school had not been very nice, and they all ganged up on him. Shouting, screaming at him. Worst was the laughter when he had finally given up at saying anything back, just given.

Alex arrived home, and was surprised to find that Ian was already there.

"Ian," Alex's voice cracked, before he hastily cleared it, "what are you doing home?"

"Hmm?" Ian replied, looking up from his paper. "I got out of the bank early today."

He was about to look back down at the book he was reading, which Alex couldn't quite read the cover of, when he did a double take.

Before Alex could blink, Ian was beside him. Faintly, Alex wondered how he was able to move so quickly.

"Alex," Ian said, sharply, "what's wrong?"

Alex shifted his eyes away. "It's nothing, Ian, honest."

Ian executed something similar to an eyeroll, and moved closer to Alex. "Lying won't work on me, young man."

Alex looked straight into Ian's eyes and tried again, "Nothing's wrong, Ian." After a few moments of an intense glare, courtesy of the other man, Alex broke.

"It's really not anything, some boys at school just cornered me and were saying that nobody ever wanted me," he hung his head, ashamed, "That's it."

Ian gave him one more long, searching gaze, and went back to his chair. "As long as that's everything," he said, "you're right. That is nothing."

That summer they traveled around the world, to places such as the Holocaust Museum, and Africa, where he saw how much worse off other people were than him. From that moment onward, he had never allowed himself to drown in feelings of self-pity, and was able to move forward after tragedies.

Alex finished packing up some of the gadgets Smithers had given him, with a "Just in case" and a wink. Alex couldn't keep himself from smiling at the thought. He really liked Smithers and knew, after a long talk in his office, that the man was on his side. Not that he hadn't already suspected that, the boy thought, what with his gadgets, and even his backup once.

Finally, after he decided he had taken a long enough time to sufficiently irritate the agents, he moved downstairs.

"I'm ready now honey!" He raised his voice an octave higher, and was pleased when the agents whipped their heads towards him, obviously confused.

What has the world come to, Alex reflected, to have agents that can't even hid their feelings properly. Oh well, he sighed, it's not like it really matters to me.

"Very well," said Agent 1, as Alex had come to call him in his head, "Let's get a move on then."

Agent 1 then turned towards the door, beckoning towards Alex for him to follow, before realizing that Alex was ahead of him, already out the door without a sound.

The agent shook his head, amazed. Just who was this kid?

Meanwhile, Alex smirked. He had realized that the agents had not been briefed on his identity, and was therefore prepared to give them a run for their money.

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Five and a half hours later, two very disgruntled agents got out of the car. They had been expecting a child, and instead, they got this... this... demon!

Alex grinned smugly, on the inside of course. It had been a long time since he had been able to mess around with people like that, and was pleased to find he had retained his "touch".

His touch at being extremely infuriating, that is.

Whoever this kid was, the agents grumbled, they were just happy to be away from him. Upon seeing them about to leave, Alex grinned his flashiest, largest smile he could manage, and waved, shouting.

"Palaam! Umaasa ako na mayroon kang isang ligtas na biyahe!" Goodbye! I hope you have a safe drive!

Suddenly, a startled voice spoke behind him, "Nagsasalita ka Pilipino?" You speak Filipino?

Alex turned to the voice, to find the sergeant that had been there at his last stay, before replying smoothly, "Oo. Pati na rin Pranses, Aleman, Arabic, Ingles, Olandes, Hebrew, Polish, Welsh, at ilang mga Hapon." Yes. As well as French, German, Arabic, English, Dutch, Hebrew, Polish, Welsh, and some Japanese.

"Comment avez-vous appris ces langues?" Where did you learn these languages? Came the cautious reply.

Alex shrugged. "Je me déplace."

The sergeant nodded. "Welcome back to Breacon Beacons, Cub." While on the outside, the sergeant looked neutral, a little (or a lot) on the angry side, on the inside he was impressed. He alone had read Cub's complete file, and respected the child, no, man, a great amount. Cub had been through more than the sergeant could dream of, and was still able to come back for more. That was worthy of true wonderment.

"K-Unit is waiting for you in Hut C. Go on."

With and impending sense of doom, Cub began the trek towards C Hut.

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