General Disclaimer (for all chapters): I'm only repeating it once: I own nothing you recognize. Anthony Horowitz is the master mind behind Alex Rider the boy. Don't sue. Thanks.

Hzuki: I know..poor Alex. He lived a good life...he was getting old anyway. :) 3

Allison and Anonymous-chic: I'm glad you guys like it! Thanks for the positive thoughts, cookies to you both, keep reviewing!


It only hurts just once,

They're only broken bones,

Hide the hate inside.

Unknown Soldier

-Breaking Benjamin-


Previously:

"Tom!" she exclaimed, her hand moving faster, a nervous tick, as she watched the sniper prepare to line up his shot. She pointed over her godfather's shoulder and watched as he turned. The sniper now had his eye to the scope and his finger tightening on the trigger.

Tom's bright blue eyes widened. "Alex, get down!"

ArarARaraR

Alex's heart raced as she grabbed for Dean's hand and yanked his shocked form under the metal café table.

Chaos was ensuing. The screams began at the tables directly next to them shortly after the first shot missed its target, a metallic 'ping' ringing through the air as the bullet bypassed Tom's heart and went straight through the chair he had ever so quickly vacated.

The running began the instant the second shot hit the large pink and yellow painted glass window of the small Bluebird Café. The fragile pane shattered, the glass spraying over panicked pedestrians, causing more overall panic.

Once Alex was sure Tom was under the table with them she looked over at Dean. The boy was pale, his green eyes round and glazed, and his hand shook in hers. She needed to say something to him, she needed to tell him it was going to be okay. She needed him to be calm, she needed him not to act out rashly and get himself killed. She just needed him. She needed to…

"Move!"

Tom's voice cut through her thoughts, forcing her extensive military training into immediate and unconscious action, reminding her that she did indeed have training for situations like this. She shielded her head with her arms, motioning for Dean to do the same, as a man that looked suspiciously like an MI6 agent, with his tall, dark, and intimidating appearance(dark sunglasses, dark suit, military-type boots, the faint outlines of weapons and protection under his jacket and shirt that were practically invisible to the untrained eye…), moved behind her and Dean, his body protecting both of the smaller teens'.

The bullets still hailed down upon them and people were still running for cover. Tom ran ahead, shielding his head and ducking behind a hefty black SUV that was currently being pelted by the sniper. The heated metal flew into, and bounced off of, the car's tough bullet-proof exterior with small abrupt 'pings', leaving little crater-like dents in their wake.

The agent behind them gasped, grunted, and fell backward slightly as a bullet whizzed past Alex's head and struck him in the chest as he pushed her out of harm's way. He pulled himself into some semblance of balance by latching onto Alex's and Dean's shirts, making sure they remained protected as another bullet pushed him back again. The second one that would've gone straight through Alex's skull, considering the angle she was standing at, half her body of the right of the agent's, the other hunched over the left side, making sure Dean stayed down.

The dark-haired man pushed through the storm of miniature missiles, herding them toward the open doors of the SUV, climbing in after Dean and Alex while Tom climbed in the front passenger seat. The driver sped off quickly, before they had even managed to shut the doors, the shots following them all the while. The driver took a sharp right at the end of the street, headed towards Liverpool street and the Royal and General bank.

Alex looked immediately to her right at the agent leaning against the door.

The man was gasping, sweat beading on his forehead, as he forced his arms to cooperate in order to get his suit jacket off. He gasped again as he strained and pulled at the jacket, tightening the injured muscles in his chest, finally getting it off. He began pulling at the buttons on his shirt, trembling fingers unable to grasp the soft fabric.

"Are you alright?" Alex asked the agent quietly, yet frantically.

He stopped, looking at her with 'what do you think' kind of look. He nodded vaguely anyway, disregarding the rather tactless question.

Rule number one: Never ask an agent how they feel. You'll never get a straight or honest answer. She shook her head.

"Here," Alex said, moving toward him, reaching out to help. "Are you sure you're all right? That hit pretty hard, didn't it?" The agent nodded again, studying her face, as though questioning her ability to handle their present circumstances.

Well, she felt that she was quite calm for the situation she happened to be facing at the moment. Being shot at, watching an agent take not one, but two bullets for her, knowing her best friend was about to be asked to sign the Official Secrets Act. It was turning out to be a bright, sunshiny day.

Speaking of best friends…Alex looked behind her as she cautiously unbuttoned the agent's shirt, monitoring the carefully hidden winces and the poorly muffled hisses of pain. Men, she thought, always trying to be tough. Except Dean, whose face was still white, his eyes still wide, though a little more clear. He was staring at her, incredulous, his eyes clearly asking how the hell she could be so calm when she was attending to a man that had just been shot in the chest. Twice, she reminded herself. For you.

(Note to self: thank agent for basically dying for you.)

The answer: Kevlar. All agents wore it in any type of shoot-out situation. The last button came free, exposing the black vest, which had two small indents in it. One was directly over the agent's heart. He did die for me. Her hands shook somewhat at the thought. She pulled a pair of tweezers from her bag (they had served her well during her last mission, considering their razor sharp tips and flexible handles, perfect for picking the locks on cells) and studied the first hole.

She found a position for the tweezers that would cause the least pain, then carefully proceeded to pull the bullet that would have ended the man's life free, holding it up to her face at eye level for a second, examining the way the tip was flattened. She used the tweezers to delicately place it in the agent's pocket, patting it slightly so he knew where it was. He inclined his head toward her as she pulled out the second bullet, it had lodged in the lower right, in between the agent's ribs, and placed it in his other pocket. She patted the pocket again to indicate that she was finished, and helped the agent to sit up as high as he could against the window so she could pull the shirt from his shoulders.

Ali had given the agent the bullets (making sure she didn't touch them in case their were finger-prints), with hopes that maybe the labs could find out what kind of gun they had come from and if they could perhaps trace the buyer, whether it be a legal or black market sale.

She worked to free the button-up lightly from the man's arms, wincing as he grunted, and reached around to undo the Velcro on the vest. Alex gently pulled the Kevlar over his head and placed it on the floor by his feet.

"What's your name," she asked quietly, realizing she had been referring to the man who had just saved her life as 'the agent' or 'the man'. Even if it was only in her head.

She was also resolutely ignoring Dean, who was still staring at her with that look, which had turned questioning at her skill. She was also ignoring Tom, who was smiling lightly at her mother-henning, despite the fact that it was bullet wounds she was fussing over. Not to mention the driver, who hadn't spoken a word to anyone but Tom. He kept looking back though, the worry in his eyes, worry for his partner, badly concealed behind the hard controlling of emotions.

"Jake Reed." the injured agent said quietly, voice strained. "And you are Alex Rider." It wasn't a question.

Alex smiled a bit as she pulled at the black t-shirt Jake wore, pulling it over his head as gently as she could manage. Everyone seemed to know her, whether it was through her father or by some off-hand account of her previous adventures that came out of Special Operations.

Ali winced in sympathy as she inspected the damage to the man's chest. The areas that had been hit were light, transparent black colors, and would be completely dark in an hour or two. There were tinges of purple around the edges, almost connecting in a diagonal line, from left shoulder to right hip. That was going to hurt like a bitch in the morning. Well, more than it already did. Especially when the injured skin started to stiffen and the muscles tightened.

"Well, Agent Reed, you most certainly have some bruising…" she probed the black and purple areas, searching for breaks. She felt a couple of slight indents along the bottom most right ribs, but it didn't seem serious. "…and most likely a cracked rib or two. You might want to get those checked out and taped up."

Jake sighed, laughing lightly as he exhaled. He was lucky to be alive, he knew, lucky to have had time to get his vest on before he jumped out of the still-moving vehicle. He had been frantic, worried even, for the life of the girl that was attending to him. He had known her father, known him well. The man had saved his life. Jake had been devastated to hear that Alex Rider had finally been gunned down, that Scorpia had finally gotten their revenge after all.

"A good agent, a good man, a good father." Those were the words he'd heard Agent Tom Harris say at Alex's funeral, as he'd watched the girl in font of him try, and fail, to hold back silent, stoic tears for her father.

"'S happened before. No stranger to pain and guns, eh?" Jake raised an eyebrow at the white scar on Alex's right arm, left from the stray bullet in Italy so many months ago. It stood out starkly against her tanned skin, a trifling, circular chunk of pink and white scar tissue.

Alex glanced down as Jake made the comment, grimacing a bit as she caught sight of the scar he referred to, the constant reminder that she had no family but Tom anymore.

She smirked suddenly, catching the mischievous glint of Jake's eyes.

"Of course not, Agent. It happens to the best of us. No pain, no gain, right?"

ArarARaraR

The SUV screeched to a halt along side the curb in front of the Royal and General, causing several people to look in their direction for the source of the disturbance. There were people headed in and out of the 'bank' at every few seconds. Some really did believe it was just a bank, others Ali could recognize as agents.

I wonder if the agents use the actual bank part, too… The random thought trickled across her consciousness as she followed Dean in climbing out of the car, after bidding farewells to Jake and the driver, who were headed for the hospital to get Jake's ribs x-rayed and taped. They do need some place to cash their pay checks, right?

She shook her head to herself. It was the shock. Crazy thoughts came with shock, right?

------

Tom held the door for the two teenagers, still looking remarkably calm. It seemed like it was only his training that was holding him together at this point. Even so, his face was a little pale, and his hand shook, almost imperceptibly, on the door.

He looked over at Ali and Dean. Ali was shaking her head about something, and her eyes still a bit wider than normal, but she, too, looked to be fairly calm on the outside.

Dean, however, looked bad. His normally tanned face was ashen, and his limbs trembled in leftover fear and adrenalin. He eyes had been wide, yet clear, as he had watched Ali work in the car, but they had returned to their glazed state, it seemed. The boy was clearly in shock.

Tom nodded to the receptionist as they passed her desk and made their way toward the elevators. He pressed the button that would take them up and waited, rather impatiently, for the lift. He glanced back at the kids again to see that Ali had taken Dean's hand in hers and was looking at him worriedly. He smiled to himself. She likes him.

------

Ali was starting to worry. Like, seriously. Dean hadn't said a word, he was unnaturally pale, his wide eyes were staring out at nothing, and his hand shook violently in hers. He was in shock, she thought, as the elevator finally dinged its arrival. She tugged on Dean's hand, making sure he was completely within the tiny compartment before the doors closed.

Alex watched as Tom pressed the button that would take them up to the sixteenth floor, watching the mirror wall as it watched them, searching for the metal of a knife or a gun.

When the elevator deemed them unarmed, it dropped them just down the hall from Mr. Blunt's office. They walked past nondescript walls that held plain doors and plain name plates. Alex resolutely averted her eyes as they passed one plate that still held the name Alex Rider. They stopped in front of Blunt's door, waiting as Tom knocked.

"Come in." a muffled voice intoned from somewhere beyond the wooden entrance.

Tom paused, a hand on the door knob, and looked at Ali. He was saying 'you better not get me fired.' Alex had some unresolved issues with Alan Blunt.

She simply raised an eyebrow and nodded her head toward the door, 'open it already.'

Tom shook his head but opened the door anyway, stepping aside to let Alex and Dean in before him.

Ali held tight to Dean's hand as she stepped into the hated office that belonged to the head of Special Operations. She took a deep breath as she caught sight of Mrs. Jones, badly cut hair going gray, and still sucking on those peppermints. She exhaled as her eyes settled on the grim faced Alan Blunt, who was staring at her as though he was looking at a particularly gruesome murder scene…or something like that, anyway.

This was not going to be pleasant.

ArarARaraR

The meeting had started out well enough. Mrs. Jones went through the pleasantries as best she could under the circumstances, and Mr. Blunt kept quiet. Mrs. Jones explained that there had been sightings of Scorpia operatives in London, Mr. Blunt kept quiet. Mrs. Jones explained the Official Secrets Act to Dean and had him sign it, Mr. Blunt kept quiet. Mrs. Jones asked Tom to leave the room, as they 'had some things to discuss with the children.' Of course they were children, until they wanted to get her killed. Mr. Blunt was still staying oddly silent.

It was as Alex was finally relaxing that the plain, gray man just had to open his mouth.

"Alexandria, Scorpia is not finished exacting its revenge on your family."

No, really?! She couldn't have guessed. The bastards had killed her grandparents, her great uncle, her housekeeper/friend, and her father. Now they were after her. She had already figured that out and she didn't need some gray looking ass of an MI6 head to tell it to her.

Alex sighed, frustrated, so much for relaxing. Blunt just seemed to have that effect on her.

"And…" she said, urging him to continue rather impatiently.

"And, we need to stop them." he stated flatly.

"You mean you want me to stop them. Potentially getting myself killed in the process." she stated, just as flatly.

Blunt raised an eyebrow, but nodded anyway. "Scorpia must end, once and for all. The organization is not doing very well as it is. They have been losing assassins, failing missions. The Training and Assessment Center on Malagosto has no more new students. Their council is breaking apart. It would be all too easy to infiltrate quietly and break them apart a little more." he said.

"So why don't you do it yourselves? They want my head on a platter, remember?" she asked the questions with incredulity in her eyes and anger in her voice.

"They are also desperate for resources." Mrs. Jones said. Alex turned her head towards her only to find her staring at Dean, an odd look on her wrinkled face. Alex look at him, only to see him staring at her, that questioning look back in his eyes, a look of disbelief on his face.

Ali rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. She'd explain later. If there was a later.

"No matter how badly it would contradict their current actions, they would rather have you truly wish to serve them than to kill you. They need all the help they can get." Mrs. Jones continued, tearing her eyes away from Dean and glancing back at Ali.

Blunt picked it up: "Invisible Sword was Scorpia's last attempt on London, when your father was fourteen, over twenty years ago. They feel it is high time for another operation, but the don't have the means to support it."

"They may have the money, but they don't have the people to carry out the attack. They have, however, begun to put the operation into tentative action. The plans that they have at the moment lead to something called the Unknown Soldier." Mrs. Jones said. Alex hated it when they went back and forth like this. It was like trying to follow a particularly slow tennis match.

"The Unknown Soldier comprises of several groups of anonymous assassins. They hope that by using several different people, we will not be able to track them, thus creating the 'Unknown Soldier'. These groups will create, maintain, and launch several attacks in every area of London. The attacks will target government facilities, schools, large business, and out door dining patios, such as the one you were found at today." Blunt this time.

Mrs. Jones: "We believe that this afternoon's attack may only be the beginning, a test of some sort, to see if they could truly pull it off. They did not stop shooting after you left the premises. Twelve people were killed, seventeen were injured." The café had been busy that afternoon, it was a favorite of the city, a good tourist sight in the heart of London.

"And get me out of the way in the process, a two-for-one deal?" Alex suggested. Dean, who had moved his shocked gaze to his shoes, looked up at this, staring at her again.

Mr. Blunt inclined his head. "It is a definite possibility. We need an agent to infiltrate as soon as possible, and you seem to be the one they want the most, and the one that Carr will most likely believe." As he spoke, he lifted a file off his otherwise spotless desk and handed it to Alex.

"Mr. Carr has a 'thing' for younger women." Mrs. Jones said, the distaste in her voice clearly heard.

The file that had been handed to Alex held as much information on Operation Unknown Soldier as was available, as well as surveillance photos and information on this Carr person.

Michael Carr was Scorpia's current leader, he had come into power directly after Julia Rothman's successor, Elijah Baker retired from the assassin business. Despite his young age, he was one of the most powerful students Scorpia had had in years. Carr was Australian, but a British citizen. He was in his early twenties, with a handsome face and a muscular body. He had dark brown, almost black, hair that fell in a crew cut, military style. His deep hazel eyes were serious, and scary looking. The pictures showed him shooting rifles on the island of Malagosto, or making deals with fellow contract killers. He had strength, skill, and mean looking face. He wasn't afraid to kill, and he had defected from MI6 only a year after joined, deciding that they didn't kill enough for his liking. That was when he was nineteen. He was now twenty-one. A bit too old for her, certainly too evil, but definitely cute.

Alex smirked to herself. She could get used to this op.

"What do you need me to do?"

ArarARaraR


A/N: I am going on vacation, I don't know when I'll be back, but I'll try and write the next chapter while I'm there. Either way it'll probably be awhile before I update, so review. Por favor y gracias.