-- Authors Note --

Sorry for the long wait! Hope the chapter is up to standards though! Well, good news is that I now know the main plot/mission for this story. That would actually be thanks to MCSparrow who was actually giving me suggestions for Triple Threat but I thought it worked really good with this so… thanks!

Anyways, thank you sooooo much to my wonderful beta, Catherine, for making this chapter better!

Review!

-Steph

The Dirty Game

Chapter Two – Of Drug Dealers and Girls

The next day

"So, where did you go yesterday after school?" Jeff asked me the next morning as we walked up to the school.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Nowhere really," I said vaguely.

Jeff looked at me and raised his eyebrows skeptically. I knew that even that answer wouldn't satisfy Jeff.

"I had to go and get my passport renewed," I told my friend my rehearsed lie.

Jeff responded with a simple, "Why?"

"My Grandmother fell and broke her leg. Grandfather died last year and she needs some help getting around until she's better. Mum and dad volunteered her my services."

"So you're leaving." It was more a statement then it was a question.

"Yeah."

"For how long?"

"I dunno," I added a shrug for good measure. "Until she's well enough to get around by herself, I suppose."

"Why don't your parents just put her in a nursing home?" he asked bluntly.

"She's a stubborn old lady," I laughed. "She refuses to leave her house until the day she dies."

Jeff nodded, clearly buying my lie. Then he frowned. "Why didn't you just tell me about this before?"

"I didn't know until yesterday," well, that was sort of the truth.

"What about school?" was his next question.

"I'm going to go to school in England for however long I'm there."

"Your old school?"

I weighed my two possible answers. I could either say yes or no. Jeff wouldn't know the difference. It wasn't as though he was going to come to England or anything. It wouldn't hurt anything… though it was probably information that I was not supposed to give out. I chose the safest answer in the end, "I dunno, mum said she'd try to get them to let me in for a bit."

Jeff nodded thoughtfully. We walked in silence for a few minutes before he stopped abruptly and turned to face me, a look of horror clearly spread across his face. "What about soccer?"

Of course, the team. Ever since ninth grade, the first year I'd been on the team, even after the regulation season had ended, we had practice several days a week. We continued it all throughout this year even though it was our last year of school and, consequently, the last year playing on the team together. It was more for memories sake then anything else.

"I won't be gone long," I promised after a second of thought. "It will only be a month, three tops," I hoped beyond hope that whatever this mission was about wouldn't take three months. Jeff looked defeated. "Not even that long," I assured him quickly. "I'll be back by May," that would give me two months.

"Fine," Jeff grumbled. "Where do you suppose I get myself another wing?" he made a face.

"I'm sure you can find a temporary replacement," I grinned. "It's not even the real season, we only play in games for fun and all. Get one of the JV guys," I suggested.

Jeff made another face. "JV? You've got to be kidding me, man. I'm not letting a JV guy come in and take my best assisters spot."

"Then play a man short."

Jeff made another face and looked up into the clear, blue sky. "You just can't win, can you?"

"It won't be so horrible. What about… Jenson, I think his name is. He's a fair player."

"We'll see," Jeff said grimly. We walked along for a minute. "When are you leaving?" Jeff changed the topic by asking.

"Day after tomorrow." Heh, just like the title of the movie where the world is coming to an end. What a reassuring thought.

"Will you be at school tomorrow?"

I paused. "I might be, I'm not sure when my plane leaves." Well, that was true at least. I'd have to remember to ask Blunt and Mrs. Jones that later today after the whole druggie escapade was

We stopped under a tree to the side of the school. The tree was a weak, skinny thing that provided little shade. The sun was already strong at seven-thirty a.m. and any shade was welcomed.

"What's up, guys?" A new voice joined our conversation. I turned around, not really needing to but doing so nevertheless. Denny, Brendan, Ryan, Spence, JT, Casey, Matt, Jared and Brent – the rest of the starting boys Varsity team – had joined us.

"Urie's parents are sending him off to England to take care of his Granny," Jeff informed them.

The rest of the guys laughed.

They stopped when Jeff and I failed to join in on their laughter.

"Seriously?" Brendan looked from Jeff to me and back to Jeff.

"Dead."

Brendan faced me. "Aw, man, that blows."

"Tell me about it," I had to keep up the appearance. Though, it wasn't really a lie, I didn't want to go to England. I just had a feeling that nothing good would come from it.

"How long?" Casey asked me next.

"Dunno," I shrugged my shoulders. "A few months maybe."

"What about soccer?" that was from Jared.

I sighed; it was all about soccer with the guys. I didn't mind it though; it beat some of the questions that they could be asking me. "I won't be gone that long," I laughed. "Use one of our reserve players in my place," I suggested, "or one of the JV guys."

They all looked stricken at my suggestion that they use a JV guy in my place.

"JV guy?" Ryan echoed, voicing aloud the rest of the teams' feelings on the matter. "You, Urie Ross, the second greatest player on the team right after Jeff, want a JV player to take your place? Are you insane?"

"Yeah," Jeff agreed quickly, excited over having another argument to add to his case. "We need you on the team, man. You're every bit as important to this team as I am," if it was anyone else that had said that, it would have sounded arrogant and cocky. But with Jeff it was fine. The rest of the guys just nodded their heads. "College scouts could still be coming to watch," he warned even though we both knew that that was highly unlikely.

"Yeah," I agreed with him nevertheless. "I've already gotten my fair share of offers though and you've gotten just about every college in the country, and some outside of it, after you." Jeff frowned, he didn't want a college team, he wanted a club team.

"Alright then," Jeff began. "But do you know why I was offered all those spot? Because you were there to make me look good."

I knew that wasn't completely true but I didn't comment on it further. "I'm flattered, really I am," I chose a different tactic. "But," I began, "my parents have already offered Grandmother my help until she was well again and she's accepted. I can't back out now."

"Fine. Just don't be joining any teams while you're in England," Jeff warned.

I grinned wryly at my friend. "I don't think I'll have the time for that," that answer was more truthful then any of them would ever know.

"Your spot will remain open until you get back," Jeff said next. "This is still our team and I'm not letting anyone, JV or reserves alike tarnish its greatness until we're all gone. We still have three and a half months left you know."

"I know," I grinned at the rest of the team. "I'll make sure to tell Grandmother to hurry up and make her broken bones heal," I joked.

"That's the spirit!" Jeff thumped me on the back.

&

It wasn't until just before lunch that MI6 arrived.

We were in the class right before lunch, history. I never was terribly fond of history after my experiences with it and the teacher four years prior. It always made me feel nervous for some reason. It was also the class that always seemed to pass the slowest. The class right before lunch tends to do that.

As usual, I was sitting in the very back of the class. Jeff sat to my left and Denny and Spence to my right, the rest of the guys had a different class that period.

It had become apparent very early in the school year that there was absolutely no need to pay attention– or even feign– in this class. The teacher was an old man—I was surprised the school still let him teach. He was just that old. He was plump for an old man, stark bald with liver spots. He wore big, thick glasses but was still partially blind nevertheless. He was totally oblivious to everything that happened in his classroom as he droned on and on about Heaven only knows what.

I was currently engaged in a game of catch with Jeff. Mr. Banner, the teacher—didn't even notice a soccer ball flying back and forth in the back of his classroom. Hey, it's not like you saw any of us complaining about it. We could have had Ms. Webb, one of the strictest teachers in the school.

I effortlessly caught the soccer ball when Jeff tossed it to me. I tossed it back to him and he caught it easily. It was a very monotonous routine, the same everyday. So, given that fact, I decided to liven things up a bit. Once the ball had returned to me, I threw it back to Jeff with a little added force. Jeff reached up lazily to catch it. The ball skimmed the tops of his fingers and continued its flight over his shoulder. The balls flight was cut short as it connected with the window with a sharp 'crack' and bounced off of the ledge and onto the floor.

Jeff looked at the ball and then at me before dissolving into silent laughter. I had a hard time containing my laughter. Still shaking, Jeff bent down to retrieve the soccer ball from where it had landed by his feet.

As it turns out, Mr. Banner isn't actually as deaf as we had thought. Upon hearing the ball hit the window he stopped his lecture and peered to the back of the room. His wrinkled eyes squinted behind his glasses.

"Damn birds," was all he muttered before returning to his lecture.

I was laughing hard by the time Jeff finally chucked the soccer ball back to me. It kind of hit off of my palms, hit the edge of my desk and ricocheted forwards to hit the girl in the desk in front of me in the back of the head. There was a snort from my left and a glance told me that Jeff was trying in vain to hide his amusement.

The girl in front to me—Lauren Hyde, I believe her name was—smoothed the back of her curly hair down in a huff before rounding on Jeff and I. Her blue eyes narrowed as she glared at me. "You know," she began in one of those snotty, know-it-all voices that clearly belonged to… a know-it-all to be frank, "there are some of us who actually want to learn what Mr. Banner has to offer us," she hissed.

"That's what the front row is for, Hyde," Jeff shot back with a grin and a wink.

Lauren's mouth dropped open in fury. Her mouth worked up and down a couple of times before she finally got any words out. "You two are the most infuriating…" she trailed off.

"Yes?" Jeff quirked an eyebrow. "You're a smart girl," he reasoned with her, "finish your sentences."

I snickered and Lauren turned her glare to me.

"And you are no better," she accused me.

"I wasn't included in the 'two most infuriating'?" I wondered aloud, pretending to be hurt.

She huffed and spun back around in her seat, turning her nose up in the air.

I glanced at Jeff and he shrugged. I turned back to face forward and tapped Lauren on the shoulder. She ignored my persistent poking.

"Psst, Hyde," I said in a stage whisper. Several other students were looking at us now. She still ignored me. I continued jabbing my finger in her shoulder. "Can I have my ball back?" Jeff laughed harder as she turned a vivid shade of red.

"Get it yourself," she hissed, still refusing to look at me. She stared at Mr. Banner so intensely that it had the potential to be creepy.

"Fine," I retorted with a simple shrug and I got out of my seat. I dropped down on to my hands and knees and, James Bond style, crawled over to the side of her desk.

"What are you doing?" she hissed in alarm as I reached a hand under her desk to where I could see the soccer ball sitting harmlessly.

"Getting my ball back," I responded as I lifted her leg by her ankle to get to the soccer ball. She fruitlessly tried to kick at my hand. My fingertips were just on the smooth covering of the soccer ball when Lauren Hyde decided to try another tactic.

"Mr. Banner?" She called out loudly and clearly to insure that he would hear her. I could just see her raising her arm into the air.

"Yes, Miss Hyde?" Mr. Banner called over in his wavering voice.

"Urie Ross is invading my space," she said, using that same snobby voice.

I could just feel Mr. Banner's eyes squint towards me… or what was visible of me. It really must have been a sight. My lying on my stomach with my head under Lauren Hyde's desk… oh wow. This whole thing could be made to seem wrong and dirty.

"What in Heavens name are you doing under Miss Hyde's desk, Mr. Ross?" Mr. Banner, quite frankly, sounded shocked and appalled.

After a brief second of thought, I pushed the ball towards the back of the room in the hope that Spence would retrieve it. Heaving myself out from under the desk I stood up, surreptitiously brushing the dust and dirt off of my jeans.

"Just getting my pencil," I grabbed a pencil off of Lauren's desk and held it up. I added one of those award winning smiles that always seem to work on adults… yes, even the ones over eighty.

"Alright then, sit back down."

I sat back down in my seat.

Mr. Banner looked over at us once more before returning to his lecture.

"Yo, Urie," Spence hissed from my right. I turned to face him and Spence tossed the soccer ball back to me. This time I caught it without incident.

Spence spared a glance towards Lauren and then looked back to me. He shook his head and laughed before turning back to his conversation with Denny.

History classes were always more of a social hour then an actual class. I felt bad for Mr. Banner in a way but I wasn't eager to start convincing people to listen to him just because he was old. History was one of the best classes of the day. I mean, what could be better then doing whatever you want for forty-five minutes?

My game of catch with Jeff continued in the same monotonous way it had before the whole window and Lauren Hyde incident.

I chose not to give an overly large amount of thought to my task that would occur later in the day. I found that it was always safer to play mindless games of catch in classes then actually think. Thinking only ever hurt you in the end.

I would be lying if I said that I didn't hope that MI6 forgot about the whole 'mission' later today. What a relief that would be. Every minute that passed without me being summoned to the office was a happy one. It wasn't exactly my thing to run around fraternizing with drug dealers, shocking as that may seem.

I tossed the soccer ball back to Jeff and he prepared to toss it back to me just as Mr. Banner called out my name.

"Mr. Ross?"

"Yes, sir?" I turned to face forwards. The ball, already being airborne by the time I turned away, bounced off of the side of my head. I blinked, dazed for a moment and watched it roll down the aisle. I turned to the side and, just as expected, Jeff was near dying in a fit of laughter. He had his head in his arms, which were on the desk. He shoulders shook and he stomped his feet on the ground silently. He looked up, taking a gasp of air, looked at me and collapsed all over again. I shook my head and turned back to Mr. Banner who, unsurprisingly, appeared to have no idea of what had just happened.

"You are wanted in the office immediately with all of your things," Mr. Banner relayed the message from whichever secretary he had spoken to. "Pack up your books then."

I didn't actually have anything to pack up so, with a groan, I stood up with my bag. I made an extra exaggerated movement as I slung my bag onto my shoulder and, just as my intention was, knocked into Jeff's shoulder. It would have hurt him more if there had actually been books in the bag but it still had the desired affect.

Spence and Denny snickered off to the side. Lauren Hyde rolled her eyes in obvious disgust.

"You leaving for England?" Jeff asked quietly.

"Day after tomorrow." Again with the world ending. So promising. I walked down the rows of desk and finally out of the door with a half-hearted 'good-bye' to Mr. Banner. I trudged down the hallway, I would have enjoyed going slow and if it had been anyone besides MI6 waiting for me in the office then I would have.

I sighed as I pushed open the office doors. I stepped into the overly air-conditioned room and looked around. I really did not have to look far. Mrs. Jones stood next to the secretary's desk. She wore another one of her black pantsuits and had her black handbag over her shoulder as she sucked on a peppermint.

She looked up upon hearing me enter the room.

"Ah! Urie!" she took a step towards me. I stopped by the door, raising an eyebrow at her. "Yes, yes, I have signed you out already," she assured me the way a mother would assure a kindergartener. "Now let's go, we can't keep that kind doctor waiting now, can we?"

I really did feel embarrassed for her. Maybe she had not had much experience with children… She had, of course only been reacquainted with her husband and two children four years ago. They had been presumed dead for years. Because of that, she would of course not have had much experience with schools and such but I still had the decency to feel embarrassed for the woman.

"Um, yeah, I suppose," was my reply.

Mrs. Jones ushered me out of the office and then out of the school without another word. I followed her as she walked briskly down the stairs in front of the school and then proceeded down the walk.

I looked ahead and nearly groaned. I should have expected it, really I should have. There was nothing at all surprising about the black Hummer H2 that sat parked on the curb. MI6's preferred mode of transportation.

I had worked hard these past four years to keep up the illusion that I was just a normal teenage boy. I had done well, too! No one ever suspected me of the things as they had in England. No one questioned my frequent visits to England. They all just assumed that I was visiting family! I was sure that now some of that hard work would be ruined.

The expansive "lawn" (if one could call it a lawn) was already filled with students who were enjoying the last fifteen minutes of their lunch break in the warm (some would say hot) sun. Many a gaze was fixed in the direction of the Hummer. Normally it wouldn't have been so big of a deal; plenty of the kids in Scottsdale had expensive cars. It was merely how much the Hummer gleamed and the fact that it had shown up in the middle of the school day. The fact that Mrs. Jones had put on a pair of heavily tinted sunglasses as soon as we had stepped through the doors did not help matter much in my favor.

I kept my head down and walked a little faster.

"Yo! Ross! What's with the car, man?" A voice shouted over from somewhere off to the left.

A glance over told me that it had been Jenson—the sophomore I had mentioned to Jeff as a substitute for me.

Jenson's yells attracted more attention.

I changed my mind; I never did like Jenson much.

&

Neither Mrs. Jones nor Blunt provided much company during the car ride. They sat in the back with me and Blunt rolled up that wall thing that separated us from the driver.

"Do I find out my mission yet?" I attempted to ask once again since, though I still was not looking forward to it, I was curious.

"Focus, Urie," Blunt chided me none too gently. I sat back in my seat. "You will know everything you need to know tomorrow but for now you must focus on the task ahead."

"Yes, sir," I muttered. "Where in California are we going?" I attempted asking this time.

"We will drive to Los Angeles and then to a small airport. You will then be transferred to a chopper and flown to San Francisco where you will then be given a car which you will use to drive to Baker's Beach where you will meet with our Mr. Damien at promptly six thirty."

"Why the beach? I asked out of curiosity.

"Baker's Beach is a very public place. It provides wonderful views of the Golden Gate Bridge. It is a safe place to meet; plenty of other people will be around."

"Fine," I sighed. "I never did much like the beach."

Blunt chose to ignore my latest comment. I stared out of the window at the rapidly passing scenery as the Hummer raced along the highway.

Two and a half hours later we were in Los Angeles. Blunt and Mrs. Jones had opted to stay behind, feeling that it would be wiser to not be nearby if Damien were to suspect something. As far as he knew, I was the son of a rich businessman, that would explain the helicopter if need be.

Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the back of a chopper on my way to San Francisco to help rid the world of its drug problems… just in a more orthodox way than Damien Cray.

Blunt and Mrs. Jones hadn't given me anything else. All that I had with me was my cell phone and the picture of 'Damien' shoved in my back pocket. Blunt had said that he and Mrs. Jones would meet me at the airport once my 'meeting' was over.

I studied the picture as I sat in the chopper, the propellers whirling away above my head. I half expected the picture to morph into a guy who actually resembled someone would pose a threat to society. But, it didn't.

We arrived in San Francisco after about an hour long flight. A survey of the area was transmitted to the pilot via whatever other agents MI6 had in the area and was carefully reviewed before I was allowed out of the helicopter. The pilot quickly ushered me across the small landing strip and to a navy Jeep Liberty that sat parked on the edge.

"Good luck, Cub," the pilot said before he sprinted back to the helicopter and was once again in the air.

I looked around uneasily. Was it just me or was this whole mission being way more played out then Blunt had said? My hand strayed to my hip where my gun would usually be strapped. The spot was empty though, Mrs. Jones had told me that it was Damien's custom to check people over before conversing with them. That made me feel safe.

I eyed the vehicle before me suspiciously. I opened the door and slid into the drivers seat. I felt around under the seat for the keys and found not only them but a small hand gun secured to the bottom of the seat.

Well, that was a relief. Nice to know that there are some people out there that want to keep me alive.

Someone had entered the directions to Baker's Beach in the Jeep's navigational system and all I had to do was listen to the voice and do what it said. That would have been wonderful if not for two things. Firstly, the voice was highly annoying and sounded like a female robot, and, secondly, she kept telling me to turn before the actual turnoff. If I had seriously listened to this woman then I would have been off the edge of a cliff and into the ocean. I excused the fact that she kept telling me to drive into oncoming traffic because I suppose she couldn't really know where the other cars were.

I finally just gave up and tuned the voice out, following the signs along the highway for Baker's Beach. I parked in the small parking lot adjacent to the beach. I took my time shutting off the Jeep and getting out, shoving the picture under the seat quickly.

I stood by the Jeep a minute or two longer, casually surveying my surroundings. The lot was filled with cars that normal people owned, there were houses across the street and, in front of me was the beach. Sand and water - standard beach. The Golden Gate Bridge was visible in the distance. The bright sun glinted off of the water. There were brightly colored umbrellas, blankets and chairs spread out across the sand. The lifeguard sat on his high platform. People were swimming, sunbathing, reading, and playing sports while children built sandcastles.

Nothing looked out of place, that much I knew for certain.

But, somewhere down there, among all of those normal people, was a drug dealer. Perhaps more then one but I was only after one in particular.

I knew what Damien looked like but I still did not how I expected to find him. I mean, I couldn't very well walk all over the beach and look at every person.

So, I elected that my only option was to walk along the beach a bit and either a) find Damien or b) hope that he knew what I looked like.

And it was as I was doing just that that I realized that I really was not dressed to be on the beach. I wore a pair of jeans, a Scottsdale Academy soccer t-shirt and a pair of Nike's, not exactly prime beach wear. I paused by the entrance to the beach and eyed the growing pile of sandals and other footwear there. I opted to keep my sneakers on, not quite knowing what kind of mess I could get into.

I walked along the top of the beach, keeping close to the low fence that separated that beach from the dunes. I had to veer my route down to the left when I came upon a volleyball court where there was a game in session. It didn't look like anything serious, just a game among friends, but I went around it. Walking through it would have been rude and would have drawn unnecessary attention.

Through the years, I've learned that the less attention that is focused on me the better. If only other people could seem aware of that rule…

I glanced at the volleyball game as I passed. Perhaps for too long. There were about six teenagers on each side; I'd say each was about my age. As I watched, a girl wearing a green and white bikini top with a pair of white board shorts bumped the volleyball back over the net. The opposing team missed and the girls' team crowded around her to congratulate her and celebrate their point.

I looked a bit closer at the girl. She was tanned and toned, her stomach, arms and legs clearly showing that she was fit. She was barefoot, just like about every other person on that beach other then me, and her dark hair was in a ponytail that swished back and forth as she moved. She had a big smile as she laughed with her friends and teammates. There was a light spattering of freckles along her noise and her eyes…

The girl then looked up at me questioningly and I realized I had been watching her for far too long.

She was pretty, that was all there was to it—or so I though. Sure, I'd had my fair share of girlfriends over the years, I was eighteen after all. But, after a girlfriend had asked to come to England with me on one of my trips there the past year, I kind of drew the line. That was just stepping into unnecessary waters and, besides, I operated better alone.

The volleyball girl, however, seemed different. And when she looked at me I was met with a pair of startling bright blue eyes. She stared at me for a moment with a questioning gaze, as though she were trying to place me.

I turned around quickly and fought hard to keep my leisurely and casual pace as I walked.

How could I have been so stupid?

San Francisco.

How did I forget?

It was a mistake; it could not be what I thought.

The worst was confirmed, however, when the girl called to my back in an alarmed yet curious voice, an unmistakably female and British voice, "Alex?" I couldn't stop, I had to keep walking. If I stopped then she'd know who I was. "Alex!" she yelled again in an excited voice. I wished she'd stop saying that name.

I could hear her footsteps as she ran across the sand towards me, covering the ground much faster then I was. I was powerless to do anything except keep up the pace I had set for myself back upon entering the beach.

She skidded to a stop just in front of me and turned to face me. I had to stop now.

"Alex!" she gasped happily, her bright blue eyes sparkling in happiness. She made as to hug me but I stepped backwards.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but do I know you?" I made sure that my voice kept the fake American accent.

The girl stopped and lowered her arms; her eyes ran over me in a funny way. "I'm certain it's you!" she said.

"I don—"

"It's me, Alex!" she finally burst out. "Sabina Pleasure! Don't you remember me?" she looked a bit hurt there.

"I'm afraid I don't know you, and my name is not Alex."

"No, you're Alex Rider! You're from England! I met you at Wimbledon four years ago and… don't you remember me, Alex?" she asked softly.

She had to stop saying that name. "My name is Urie and I live in Arizona, I have for all my life. I've never been to England," I said.

"No! I know you! You're Alex Rider! I'd recognize you anywhere!"

"You have me mistaken for someone else," I tried to tell Sabina but she wouldn't listen.

"When we were fourteen… don't you remember?"

"I've already told you… my name is not Alex, its Urie Ross."

She fell silent for a moment or two. "No," she shook her head determinably. "They did something to you, didn't they? MI6 did something to you. I'd know you anywhere, Alex. You may be taller and tanner and your hair lighter but your eyes are the same! I'd know your eyes anywhere!"

"MI-what?" I chose the safe way out and played dumb.

She groaned in despair and looked down at the sand. She traced her foot through it, making funny little swirly patterns. "Why won't you listen to me?" she finally said in a small voice.

"You really must have me mistaken for someone else, miss."

"No. No I don't! It's you, I know it is." She always was stubborn like that. I see four years and a new country can't change much in a person.

I was at a loss as to how to continue when I heard my name being yelled once again. Except this time the person didn't say 'Alex Rider'—thank, God, for that—they said, "Urie? Is that you?"

I glanced over my shoulder to see a man with tanned skin and dark hair, the earrings in his ear reflecting the sun. He was barefoot—of course—and dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a white, short-sleeved button down that was left unbuttoned.

He looked liked a normal guy but I'd recognize him just about anywhere. Damien.

I faked a smile and waved.

I turned back to Sabina. "See? I told you my name was Urie. I'm here visiting a friend. I think you had better be getting back to your game now." Sabina looked over my shoulder to where her friends were waiting for her, watching us curiously.

She turned back to me slowly and looked into my eyes. She shook her head and moved around me without another word.

I didn't look back as I moved towards Damien.

Just another unpleasant reminder of my past. That was all.

"Urie Ross," Damien said once I was standing right in front of him. It wasn't a question, more of a statement.

"Yes," I nodded, not saying anything else.

"You're a difficult man to find, Urie."

"I could say the same thing about you." I honestly didn't mean to say it, it just slipped out.

Damien looked startled for the briefest of moments but the look quickly turned into a grin. "A bit of humor too," he commented as his eyes scanned me. He was clearly looking for any noticeable sign that I was there spying on him. He circled me to look me over. I felt uneasy but stayed where I was.

Thankfully though, Damien did not go into outright frisk mode right there on the beach in front of all those people and children. Now that would have been a topper on even my list of awkward situations.

"Walk with me, Urie," Damien demanded after he was sure that I was completely unarmed. He started walking off down the beach and I followed him after a moment.

We walked to a secluded spot on the beach where there were almost no people.

Damien turned towards me. His face and dark eyes were kept carefully blank and void of any emotion at all.

"So, Urie, I hear that you are in need of my services."

&

An hour and a half later, I had finished with Damien. I had a time and meeting spot secured for the next week. Damien would have his 'stock' with him at the time. Including the marijuana I had requested.

I shook my head. What a perfectly ridiculous mission.

I mean, not that I think that these drug dealers should have free reign to sell to children and all—which is apparently what Damien specialized in—but I didn't quite understand why this mission was so necessary. There had to be other ways that MI6 could get to him.

As I got back into the dark Jeep Liberty, I couldn't help the feeling that there was more to this mission then I knew at the time.

a/n: Review!