I wasn't originally going to continue this, but you guys convinced me. Thank you for all of the lovely reviews! By the way, this chapter turned out much longer than I expected. I hope you like it! (A minor author's disclaimer: I know nothing about guns, so if anything I say about them is wrong; feel free to let me know!) And for real this time, Merry/Happy Christmas/Holidays! (Wow that's a bit of a mouthful!)

Bit of a strong language warning, too.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.



"I hate this bloody country," Snake heard Eagle mutter, not for the first time. He rolled his eyes, but refrained from groaning. It didn't help. Besides, thinking about Eagle's complaints only made him remember his own more vividly.

Wolf, however, was not so generous. "Shut your mouth, Eagle," he snarled. "We know you hate this bloody country. You've only said it thirteen times."

On Snake's left, Bull snorted, but said nothing. He didn't say much.

"Well I do!" Eagle exclaimed defensively. "It's bloody hot!"

Snake spoke up. "Yes, Eagle. We're in Afghanistan. It's a desert. It is going to be hot. But, for the third time, complaining about it does you no good."

Eagle pouted. "It makes me feel better," he claimed. "Besides, what else are we supposed to talk about? You three are boring—you never want to talk about anything, which leaves me to complain about the weather!"

Snake opened his mouth, but Wolf beat him to it. "Why don't we talk about what we're supposed to be doing? I know even you can't have forgotten already, Eagle."

"'Course I haven't!" Eagle exclaimed, standing up straighter in indignation. "But it isn't exactly an interesting assignment. All we've got to do is check buildings for any possible traps."

"That's right," Wolf said, as if speaking to a small child. "And why are we doing this?"

Eagle rolled his eyes. Snake grinned a little bit. Eagle may have been immature, but he wasn't stupid. He knew Wolf was poking fun at him.

"Because the Prime Minister is coming through tomorrow, and it wouldn't do to have any buildings explode on him," Eagle said in his best schoolboy voice. "So we're checking for anything suspicious."

"Gold star for the lad!" Bull exclaimed, patting him on the back as they ducked through yet another entryway.

Eagle shrugged it off. "I prefer red," he said with a straight face. It wasn't long before all four of them were laughing. This whole situation was ludicrous. Here they were, in Afghanistan for the fourth time in the past year, making jokes about Eagle's intelligence.

Snake rolled his shoulders and put his ear to the next door. "Hello?" he called. He knew that whoever was inside—if anyone was inside—wouldn't understand him, but he was sure things like this had happened often enough that they got the general idea. As long as they kept their faces friendly enough, they hadn't run into any problems. The Afghans had been extremely accommodating.

There was no answer. Snake frowned. The door was in very good condition—it didn't look like the other abandoned sites they had found. Something about this told him this wasn't right. Quietly he motioned to Bull, who nudged Wolf and grabbed Eagle's shoulder. Snake got the feeling—a weird sense of intuition—that this door was very important.

With the three others behind him, Snake quietly pulled out his semi-automatic and held it carefully in his arms. He then grabbed the door handle and cracked it open. His initial suspicions were proven correct—this was no abandoned home. The door made no noise as he moved it.

Cautiously, he peered into the room. When all he saw was darkness, he opened the door a bit more and motioned his teammates in. They filed in after him, their boots making the only sound on the dusty floor. Snake's heart was beating quickly, adrenaline pumping into his system. He waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness and scanned the room.

It wasn't particularly large. There was a table off on the opposite side of the room with a handful of papers on it that they would have to check out once they secured the rest of the house, but other than that it was fairly bare. There was no ornamentation that he could see.

A moment later he lowered his gun, letting it relax and fall to his side.

That was his fatal mistake.

Men suddenly flooded into the room, coming from nowhere. They were clad in light clothes, good for fighting. Snake groaned inwardly. He had upwards of 100 pounds strapped to his back—he would be useless in hand to hand combat, which was what these men were aiming for. Snake dodged a particularly vicious kick to the knees and barely avoided a knife that came flying out of nowhere. And he couldn't exactly go for his gun—he might shoot a teammate.

Nonetheless, he took aim carefully, ducking and dodging, trying to yell to Wolf. He let off a shot, and he saw one of them go down, but just then he was pulled down from behind.

"Aarg!" he yelled, trying to dislodge his backpack. His head hit the ground, hard, and for a second he saw stars. Then there was a face grinning madly above him, pinning his arms down and going for a knife.

Snake struggled, and managed to break free of his pack. Without warning, he struck the man in the face with his own head, wiping his own face of blood when it dripped onto him. He twisted and freed himself of the man, punching him in the head and knocking him unconscious.

Finally free of his own pursuer, Snake could look up.

It was mayhem.

Wolf was holding his own, backed into a corner and simply shooting those who dared get too close point blank, but he had a knife protruding from his stomach and looked to be bleeding profusely. Damn.

Eagle and Bull had paired up and were standing back to back, using their fists to push offenders away. Both were bleeding. Bull looked close to unconsciousness, but he stayed on his feet.

Snake turned and kicked one attacker in the stomach, making the man crumple. How many of them were there? They seemed to be coming out of nowhere...

A man got him in the kidneys and he doubled over, clutching his stomach. Motherfucker! Snake spun around and knocked the man's legs from underneath him, kicking him in the head for good measure. Breathing heavily he turned to Wolf, who was lowering his gun.

"Bloody fucking hell!" Wold breathed heavily, looking wide-eyed at them. "What the hell was that?"

Snake, taking in deep breaths, just shrugged. "We'll have to radio this in," he said. "The prime minister will have to take another route."

Eagle snorted, and Snake's shoulders relaxed just a little bit more. "What say we check out the rest of this place?" he asked, already peering into the darkened hallways. "They had to come from somewhere, right?"

"Two and two?" Bull suggested, grabbing his pack from where he had dropped it by the door. "Me and Eagle, and you two together?"

Snake glanced at Wolf. It made logistical sense. Brains and brawn on each team. Not to say that he and Eagle weren't strong, or that Wolf and Bull weren't smart, but the pairings definitely made sense. "Works for me," he said, making his way toward his own pack, which had landed underneath the table he had noticed before.

"Sure," Wolf said. "We'll take the downstairs, you take the up?"

"All right then," Eagle said. "Let's get cracking."


The stairs, like the door, made no noise. Snake refused to let his guard down this time—if there was anything in this house, he suspected they would find it in the basement. He felt his heart start to beat more quickly in anticipation, and leaned around the corner at the bottom of the stairs. He gestured to Wolf and turned the corner quietly, trying to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. There was nothing down here that he could see. Just a singular metal door, barred from the outside. He raised his eyebrows and leaned his head toward the door.

Wolf followed him until they were right next to the door. It had no windows, because that would've been too useful, but Snake could hear something on the other side. His eyebrows disappeared further up into his hair when he realized it was screaming.

He looked toward Wolf—his eyebrows had come together in what Snake liked to call his "angry face", and he looked determined. Snake grinned despite the situation. Some things never changed—Wolf would always be fiercely protective of the innocent.

Without warning, they lifted the bar and slammed the door open. Even Snake, who had seen things that would make grown men cry, wasn't expecting what he saw.

A boy was chained to the wall, whip marks ingrained deeply in the skin on his back. His face was pressed against the wall and his face was distorted in pain. Blood was not only dripping down his back, but down his face as well where he had bitten through his own lip. His skin was dark and bruised, and he looked unhealthily thin. His black hair was matted with blood and sweat, and barely-healed scabs littered his body.

For a moment, Snake couldn't move. He felt ill and dizzy. This kid couldn't be older than fifteen. What on earth could he have done to deserve this?

And then his eyes fell on the man in the room. Tall and spindly thin, with pale white skin; he looked to Snake like something out of a nightmare. He held a whip in his hands and his face glowed demonically. Something in Snake broke. The bastard was laughing.

He and Wolf charged into the room simultaneously, pulling their guns. The man straightened and turned toward them, some of the light fading from his face.

"What is it we have here?" he asked, eyeing them. "Some of your friends, Mr. Rider?"

The kid groaned, and his eyes flickered open. Snake could hardly believe that he was still conscious. He had lost so much blood... But then Snake saw his face. He didn't look Afghani, and Rider was not an Afghani surname.

"Fuck off, Volta. I've already... told you... I don't know a-anything. Don't t-tease...me." His eyes were closed again.

Snake's suspicions were confirmed. This kid was definitely not Afghani. If he wasn't mistaken, he actually spoke with a British accent.

"Volta, huh?" Wolf snarled, stalking closer to the man. "I'd say you're looking at life in prison, Volta, depending on what country they decide to prosecute you in. It could be the death penalty."

The man laughed. Snake had no idea what his plan was—he was outnumbered two to one, and they were armed. Unless he had something up his sleeve there was no way he could win. "I am not afraid of death," he said. "And I know something you don't—I have reinforcements waiting for me."

It was Snake's turn to laugh. "You mean the reinforcements we demolished upstairs?"

Volta didn't seem to notice that they were stalking closer to him. He had a familiar gleam in his eye—the gleam of a madman. This was a man that didn't care what happened to him. The most dangerous kind of man, in Snake's opinion.

"That does not matter to me," he said, holding the whip to his chest. "I will die a martyr."

"I wonder if they'll believe me if I say there was a provoked attack," Wolf mused, circling Volta, his gun ready. "Self-defence and all. Because I would love to kill you myself."

The boy chained to the wall coughed. Snake took the opportunity to move closer to him. He was surprised when the kid spoke. "You can't," he coughed out, lifting his head to Wolf's direction. "Because I'm going to."

Wolf raised his eyebrows. "You sure, kid? You're pretty young to be killing people."

The kid coughed again, but to Snake it almost sounded like a laugh. "Trust me," he said. "No regrets."

Wolf prodded Volta with his gun—the man looked decidedly less intimidating now that Wolf had him backed into a corner with a gun pointed at his chest. "You sure?" he asked.

But the kid didn't have a chance to answer. At that moment Eagle and Bull wandered in. "Hey guys, nothing upstairs. You all good down here?"

They both froze when they saw the boy. "Bloody fucking hell," Eagle breathed. "What the hell's going on down here?"

"Good question," Snake replied. "But one that can be answered as soon as we get his chains off. Can you go look for a set of keys?"

"Better yet," Wolf muttered. He kicked Volta and raised his eyebrow. The man was weak. "On the table upstairs," Volta muttered, grimacing.

"Can you go grab those, then?" he asked, heading toward the boy. He was chained to the wall by his wrists, his back facing the room at large. He looked conscious, but just barely. "What's your name, kid?" he asked once he was closer.

"Alex," he muttered, eyes still half-closed. "But I think you know me better as Cub."

Snake froze. "Sorry?" he asked, getting even closer. "I don't think I heard you right."

The boy grimaced—though whether it was in annoyance or pain Snake couldn't quite tell. "No, you g-got it. It's me, Cub. The one from B-breacon Beacons."

"Shit," Snake breathed, taking a good look at the boy's—Alex's, Cub's—face for the first time. It looked familiar, now that he had somewhere to place it. Most definitely not Afghani. "How the hell did you end up here?"

Before Cub could answer, Bull and Eagle wandered back down, tossing a set of keys as they entered the room. Snake fumbled with them for a second before finding one that looked like a match and sticking it in the hole.

"The silver one," Cub muttered. "With the r-rubber thing on the outside."

Snake found it and shoved it into the lock, hearing it click satisfyingly. Cub's arm fell quickly to his side and he grimaced again. Snake hurried to do the other one. He had to be in terrible pain.

His other three teammates were watching with curious glances, Wolf especially. He was the only one who had heard Cub.

"We radioed while we were up there," Eagle told them, uncharacteristically serious. "There should be a humvee here in a few minutes."

"Good," Snake breathed. He may have been the one in the unit with the most medical experience, but he was far from qualified to deal with injuries of this magnitude. Just at first glance Cub was suffering from possible malnutrition and dehydration, severe lacerations on his back, maybe even septicaemia. He needed doctors, and quickly.

Cub had one arm on the wall, steadying himself. "Give me a gun," he told Wolf, his eyes closed. He had his other arm wrapped around his chest. Snake added possible broken ribs to his list.

Snake started unlatching his with the intention of giving it to him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Eagle shouted, striding across the room. "You can't give him a gun! He'll shoot him!"

Snake looked into Eagle's eyes. "That's the point," he said calmly. This man had to die—and if Cub wanted to be the one who did it, Snake wasn't planning on stopping him.

"You can't!" Eagle shouted. "What about the regulations..."

"Screw the r-regulations," Cub said. "This man killed my g-guardian—effectively my sister and m-mother wrapped into a neat little package—in f-front of me. I watched her die."

Eagle paled. "Why, though?" he asked, trying to make sense of it all. "Why would he do that?"

"H-he's a madman, for one," Cub told him. "And I t-think he just hates me."

"Don't forget to tell them that you are a spy," Volta said from the other side of the room. "You hold information that is of value to me." Snake shivered. The man had a slimy voice.

It took Eagle a second to put the pieces together. "Cub?!" he exclaimed, finally. "But, what...?!"

"Ask me l-later," Cub answered wearily. "Just g-give me the gun."

Snake did as he was told.

He watched as Cub struggled to lift the gun, until he was pointing it at Volta's head. His hand didn't shake. There was no fanfare, no gloating. A shot rang out. Volta fell into the wall, blood leaking out of a perfectly aimed shot in between his eyes. The blood flowed down his face, turning it into a grotesque mask. He died quickly.

And then Cub collapsed.