A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry… I have exams, and before I had to study for exams and before that I just... um, spent a lot of time crying for a reason I will not reveal. But anyway, here is the next update. And be happy about this, I'm in the middle of the main exam diet! I sat an exam yesterday and it went really well!

For those who don't know, onesies are like baby clothes for adults. Look them up; because I can find plenty American sites that mention them.

So for those who have forgotten, at the end of the last chapter, Megan the English civilian girl had been kidnapped by someone, Sarah the Scottish girl was staring at 'chaos' and in Gallagher there was a Code Black and Abby was worrying about Sarah and Megan. Anyway, here is chapter two!

Macey POV

The Code Black sirens are still echoing in our ears as we leave Solomon's room. We're due to leave in about ten minutes for our mission; after we were assured that the Code Black was "nothing to worry about". I doubt that, but who am I to argue?

Bex and I walk up to our room in silence, finding our room empty. I assume that Cammie is with her mom and Liz is in the library.

"Bex… how long do you think this will take?" I ask her, as I flick through my clothes, thinking about what I should wear.

"About ten minutes after we locate these girls! They're untrained civilians." I've never doubted Bex before, not really. But this time… I worry that she is wrong.

Megan POV

My eyelids are heavy and my brain swirling. I feel like I am going to be sick. I open one eye warily but something is covering my eyes. I feel a sharp pain and try to scream but my mouth can't open. About a thousand horror stories about drug abuse we were told at school run through my head as I struggle to remember where I am… or even if I know that detail.

Rachel POV

"But mom! I want to…"

I hold up my hand to stop Cammie.

"This is not a safe mission for you. Now please, go to the library where Liz is waiting for you." Cammie could tell this is my final word on the subject and left. I stare out the window at my sister leading Macey and Bex towards a waiting helicopter.

A crumpled item of clothing lay under my desk, hidden in a box. I'm sure they hadn't seen it. I pull it out and stare at it. I pull out the picture of Matthew and Joe I keep under my desk and stare at it, focusing on his face until my mind is numb, my guard is up, and the words that were running through my head involuntarily have vanished. I'm only safe as long as I can keep them out.

FIVE HOURS LATER (A/N: It's a fast helicopter, okay?)

Bex POV

I wake up as we approach Britain. I'm meant to search for Megan and Sarah, while Abby and Macey go on to Norway, to find out what they can about the company. As we approach Portsmouth, where Megan lives, it is about 4pm in Britain. The helicopter lands in a deserted area several miles away from Megan's house. I say goodbye to Abby and Macey and begin the trek to Megan's place. But when I get there, I get a fright.

The house is swarming with police officers and someone I assume to be Megan's mother is crying. I glance in the window of the house I am next to. They have their TV on and their window is open. I creep towards it.

"Despite further effort, the police have not been able to find any clues as to why fourteen year old Megan Thomas vanished from her house at 10am today. Her mobile phone and iPad have disappeared but the other valuable goods in the house were not taken..."

Someone in the house switches off the TV and I creep over to the police officers near her house.

"The only interesting evidence I can see is the fact that there was a cardboard box full of those hideous onesie garments on the doorstep," one says, as I mentally freak out.

I turn and walk away from the situation as a fight between two reporters breaks out.

Looks like Megan and Sarah have already managed to get themselves in trouble.

ONE HOUR LATER

Sarah POV

Seven hours later I am still sitting here. After Megan's call, I tried to break the window but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't.

Q: Why does a sports shop need bulletproof glass?

My only answer is when it's a cover for something else. I'm curled up on the high up window ledge, the ladder fell down after the call and I'm stuck. Outside, there are people parading around in onesies. Earlier, thanks to Google, I discovered it was National Onesie Day. When I tried to call anyone else, though, I discovered that pretty much everyone in Scotland's phones weren't working. I keep pinching myself, trying to wake myself up from this nightmare but nothing is working.

I had a sandwich in my bag but I ate it hours ago and now all I can do is just sit here and wait to die, one way or another. An hour ago, two onesie-clad goons came out of the metal door. One of them noticed me and they ducked back inside. I don't know what they did. Maybe they thought I was a ghost or something because nothing happened.

All hope is lost when I hear a noise. It's obviously some sort of evil way to kill me. But suddenly the shop door opens and a pretty teenage girl, about a year older than me, appears. She spins around and says in an English accent:

"Sarah Murphy? You in here?"

My dehydrated throat doesn't want to make a sound but I manage a squeak which is enough for her to see me. She puts up the ladder and climbs up it, sitting next to me and handing me a bottle of water.

"Drink." She says and I do. "My name is Rebecca Baxter; but call me Bex if you want to live. I want you to tell me exactly what happened."

"How did you find me?" I ask her.

She hesitates, and I can tell she is thinking about a thousand things.

"Okay, I guess I need your help so I'll tell you," she says, adding under her breath, "can always erase your memory later."

"Excuse me? Erase my memory?"

"You heard that?" she examines me, "or maybe we won't have to." For the first time she smiles.

"How did you find me?" I repeat.

"I'm a spy in training."

I blink.

"Now, tell me what happened," she says.

I relay the story of my onesie theory to her, right up to the moment before she arrived. She opens her mouth to reply when a bullet hits the bulletproof glass beside us and we both jump. She looks out at the woman standing on the roof of a building opposite with a gun, swears and, grabbing me, ignores the ladder, jumping down to the floor below.

A/N: Please review! While writing this I realised I was using past tense and had to go back and change it all. Grr…

By the way, it really is Onesie Day here a week today.

Help.