DISCLAIMER: I don't own Alex Rider.

I'd also like to thank my wonderful beta, OnlyABookworm for helping me! And a big thanks to Op-fan98 for helping me with the Greek in this chapter! (Y'all know how I hate inaccuracies). I can't forget about my little Daleks! Thanks for your support and reviews!

04

Perses's favorite activity, besides plotting the downfall of his enemies, was pondering on why his father had given him his particular name. After all, "Perses Argyris" wasn't a common name.

In ancient Greek mythology, Perses was the Titan god of destruction. He had married Asteria, the Titan goddess of necromancy, nocturnal oracles, prophecies, and the goddess of the falling stars.

Perses liked to think he was also a Titan god of destruction. It certainly fit him, he would often think smugly. Perses, the Titan of destruction, leading one of the most dangerous terrorist organizations; Perses, the head of Zeta; Perses, the future head of SCORPIA, the once notorious assassination organization.

The silver Titan of destruction: Perses Argyris.

"Excuse me, sir. Mr. Wade is here to see you."

Perses was interrupted from his daydreaming by the annoying voice of his receptionist, "Send him in."

"Yes, sir."

A moment later, Perses heard the clicking of heels and the voice of his irritating receptionist, "This is his office, Mr. Wade."

"Thank you, my dear." The voice was unlike the voice he had heard on the phone. It was a higher pitch, almost feminine.

"Of course!" The woman's heels clicked away.

A second later, the man, presumably Mr. Wade, knocked on my door.

"Come in." Perses called, stroking his smooth chin with a hand.

Mr. Wade was not the person that Perses had expected. He'd imagined a tall man, with broad shoulders and muscular arms. Not the small, slim young woman in front of him. She was lithe, with long, black hair, plaited back into a braid and dark brown eyes.

"Ah, Mr. Argyris, how good to finally see you." 'Mr. Wade' smiled. Her teeth were a pearly white, "Though I may not be the person you were expecting."

Perses stood, offering a hand, "It's nice to meet the infamous… Mr. Wade."

The woman laughed, "Oh, you flatter me. Please, call me Violet.

Perses was hit with a sudden realization, "Violet. Not the Violet Castle?"

Violet smiled again, sitting down, "That would be me – 'the Assassin Prodigy.'"

"In that case, it's very nice to meet you, Ms. Castle." Perses sat too, "We have much to discuss."

Mr. Wade – now Violet Castle's—lips curled into a satisfied smirk, "I've been thinking about our target quite a bit, Mr. Argyris, and I've found his – so to speak – Achilles' heel."

Perses leaned forward, attention captured by the alluring woman.

"His school."

OPERATION*ZETA

"Cub! Tell Rock to stop it!"

Alex rubbed his forehead, sighing to himself. One night with K-Unit was worse than facing any psychopathic billionaire.

"Cub!" Eagle's persistent voice cut through Alex's daydream of duct taping the soldier's mouth close.

Alex groaned silently, rolling out of his bed. He landed with a small thump on the ground.

"He won't stop doing press-ups," Eagle called, knocking on Alex's door sharply, "and he's trying to make me 'keep in shape'! Cub!"

Alex sighed, pushing himself to his feet and checking the military analog watch on his wrist. It was five, in the bloody morning.

He flung open the door, catching the raised fist aimed at his face. He stalked past the garrulous soldier.

"Mornin', Cub." Rock greeted as the teen entered the kitchen. True to Eagle's word, he was doing press-ups quite vigorously next to a disgruntled, coffee-sipping Wolf.

Alex grunted a greeting, heading straight for the coffee maker. Snake was already there, casually pouring out a cup and handing it to the teen.

Thanks." The teen didn't bother adding sugar or milk. He took the farthest seat from Wolf. He caught the look that Snake shot him.

The Hispanic man looked abashed, "Cub?"

Alex lifted an eyebrow.

"I wanted to apologize." Wolf cleared his throat, not missing the puzzled expression on Alex's face, "For getting you shot."

Alex winced at the reminder. He now had two fresh bruises on his abdomen. He shrugged, "It's alright. I've had worse."

Rock had stopped his press-ups to stare at him. Eagle, who had settled on the sofa, was now staring at him. Snake, arms crossed, frowned at him, "What do you mean?"

Alex sported the perfect, innocent face, "They're just a bunch of bruises."

The tension that had built up within the last seconds dissipated. The soldiers looked relieved.

"Good," Wolf said awkwardly, "I thought you meant that you'd..."

Alex shrugged, glancing at his watch again. He desperately wanted to escape the clutches of the unit. They only seemed awkward when their unofficial member was nowhere to be seen. Once Alex was in the room, the soldiers seemed to be wary.

Alex suddenly had enough. He stood abruptly, clutching the mug in his hand, "I'm going to get changed."

He made his way to the top of the steps, stopping at the last step. He knew K-Unit would talk about him in hushed tones. He wasn't disappointed.

"Wolf," it was Snake, "You're intimidating him! You're supposed to be friendly!"

Wolf's growl contained a thinly veiled death threat, "I'm not! That kid doesn't even get intimidated!"

"He's a kid." Rock, "Of course he gets intimidated."

"He's a teenage spy. He doesn't get intimidated."

Alex rolled his eyes as the four began bickering. He sipped his coffee, before disappearing into his room.

OPERATION*ZETA

He could see in their eyes that they didn't trust him. They didn't believe the lies he had fed them. They didn't trust he would stay for more than a week.

Alex silently slipped into his seat, tiredly dragging a hand over his face.

Someone on the other side of the classroom whispered loudly, "Looks like he's had a run-in with a gang."

A girl beside him shushed him.

"Good morning!" The form teacher smiled at them, "In a moment, we'll be going down to the assembly hall for a very special presentation!"

The students looked at one another, obviously confused. A girl raised her hand, "What's this assembly about?"

The form teacher smiled at her, "The man used to be a member of the Mafia in New York – I'm sure you know that's in America."

A collective glare at the teacher.

"He was put into a witness protection program and went into hiding for twenty-five years." The form teacher told the class, "He's come out of hiding to tell the younger children about the hard life and to inspire you to make better choices."

Several people shot Alex looks, but he pretended not to see the vicious gleam in their eyes.

The bell rang shrilly, and the teacher ushered them down to the auditorium.

"Hey."

Alex slipped into the seat next to Tom, slinging his backpack on to the ground. The other boy grinned at him, "Mrs. Wordsworth looks like she wants to strangle you."

Alex turned to find that his friend was telling the truth. The woman was glaring at him with narrowed eyes, clearly grinding her teeth.

"She hates me for no reason."

Tom gave him a look, "She hates you because you miss school too much."

Alex sighed and leaned backwards, "Blame the government."

The raven-haired boy laughed, "Even if she knew the truth, she would poke holes into your story."

"Quite true." Alex grinned.

"Settle down, settle down!" Mr. Bray's voice cut through the din.

The students quieted almost immediately. There was a kind of nervous energy floating around the room, lingering on the students and teachers.

Mr. Bray smiled at them, taking his stance on the podium, "As you may have heard from your form teachers, we have a very special guest speaker here today. He has come out of witness protection to speak to various schools about the dangers of criminal activity."

Tom nudged Alex playfully, a motion that the members of Alex's row didn't miss. The boy on his right chuckled and muttered, "Pay attention to this, Rider."

Alex felt an unexpected wave of annoyance. He had saved every child in the UK at least three times, and he got bullies for that?

At the same time, he felt immensely relieved that they didn't – and wouldn't – know the true story. He wouldn't be able to stand their wondering gazes and their fake friendship. At least as the resident loser of the school, he had one, true friend.

"Please welcome Mr. Marcus King," Mr. Bray announced, clapping his hands. Everyone else followed in suit.

The doors of the auditorium swung open, attracting the attention of the crowd. A short man, perhaps five foot three, stalked in. He was wearing a long, trench coat that billowed behind him as he made his way in. Three body guards tailed him, dressed in a typical black suit.

Alex's attention was pulled away from man as he spotted a flash of metal outside. It was a black SUV with tinted windows. It was probably nothing. Maybe MI6 checking up on him.

He turned away from the doors, watching the man climb the stage unsteadily, presumably from an old injury.

"When you're involved in the Mafia," King started, gripping the sides of the podium, "You only get out by three ways: in a body bag, by going to jail, or by witness protection."

"Bet you'll be in the body bag." The boy next to Alex bared his teeth maliciously.

Alex's hands balled into fists.

"Ignore him," Tom hissed, looking at his hands.

The speaker continued with his speech, painting his life in words. Alex couldn't help but envy the man. He got to escape from that lifestyle. Alex was stuck and would probably stay stuck in the espionage world.

Tom leaned closer to Alex's ear, "Dude, look at those bodyguards. Who needs eleven bodyguards?"

Alex glanced behind him, seeing that he was right. Eight more men in black suits had slipped into the room, silently spreading out in the back. He could see their earpieces, the shades covering their eyes, and worst of all, the bulge at their waist. A gun. One man was muttering quietly, presumably to someone on the other side of the comm link.

"No one needs eleven bodyguards." Alex breathed back, careful not to stare at the men.

He spared a quick glance back at the men. What was that flashing sliver pin on their chest?

Alex turned his attention back on the man in the front of the room, scanning the original three men. They stood behind King, earpieces identically placed in their left ear and their guns holstered by their sides. A silver glint over the left side of their chests sent his stomach plummeting. A lowercase Greek letter. Zeta. They were here.

"What the hell?" Alex's blood ran cold as he hissed the three words. He frantically looked down to his watch, pressing the crown three times. It would transmit a distress signal to headquarters.

Almost as if they knew he'd called reinforcements, the three "bodyguards" behind King drew their guns in unison, pointing it at his back.

A few people in the crowd let out airy screams, while others gasped.

"Step away from the podium and put your gun on the ground." The most muscular man on the stage snarled at the former criminal. He brandished his gun threateningly.

King's eyes darted around as he faced the three men, his mouth hanging slightly open, "I should have known."

"Don't do it..." Alex squeezed his watch another three times, willing the man to just surrender.

Alex couldn't see King's face from his seat, but he could see the tense man's frame. His arms were getting ready to dart to the gun.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one to see it. The first man cocked the gun, smiling, as if this was a friendly chat, "I wouldn't do that."

King's hand shot to his gun, pulling it out in a flash, but the three bodyguards were faster.

Pop pop pop!

King was sent sprawling back on to the podium. He was draped across it, his head dangling grotesquely and his glassy eyes staring at the student body. Blood dripped down his head and into his hair, then on to the ground. A rapid pool of blood was forming beneath him.

Screams tore out of hysterical throats.

The man wore a smirk as he advanced on the corpse. He used his gun to prod the body away. It fell next to the podium with a small thump that was heard, even above the chaos.

"Silence." The voice grated Alex's ears.

The effects of his words were instantaneous. The students hushed.

"Don't bother calling the police," Alex noted that the man had a faint accent to his words, but he couldn't place where it was from, "If you do, you'll die. If you do anything I don't like, you die. Απλό." Simple.

Silence reigned in the hall.

"Now, you may be wondering why I've just killed your dear… guest speaker." The man gave the dead man a dirty look and made a quiet tsking noise that was amplified.

No one dared to even breathe.

"I'm here for one person." He scanned the crowd and Alex felt himself sinking down into his seat, "Ένα ηλίθιο, ηλίθιο αγόρι." An idiotic, stupid boy.

Alex's breath caught in his throat. He desperately hoped that MI6 and K-Unit would show up soon. Zeta and SCORPIA would kill him after a long, painful torture session. He checked his watch. It had only been five minutes since he had last sent the distress signal.

"Alex Leos." He was staring in the wrong direction, "Ξέρω ότι είναι ένα ψεύτικο όνομα." I know that is a fake name.

Alex tensed, pressing the crown of his watch three times again. Where was his backup?

" Ξέρω στα σίγουρα ότι το όνομά σου είναι Alex Rider " I know for a fact that your name is Alex Rider, "Why don't you come up here and introduce yourself to my friends? They were out of town when you came around."

Alex was on his own. He had to plan out his course of action. If he kept silent, he would risk the possibility of more people getting hurt. If he spoke out, his secret would be exposed to everyone in the room. He'd have no chance of normality. He had to choose between his duty and himself.

He stood. The people around him, shrunk away, save for Tom, who tugged on Alex's arm. He shot his best friend an apologetic look.

"Ah, excellent!" The man smirked at him, "Come up here. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you face to face."

Alex ignored the looks that everyone gave him. Their accusatory glares burned into him like a brand.

'You caused this.' They seemed to say.

'I know.' Alex wanted to say back.

The eight men in the back were spread out, covering the exits and keeping a tight leash around the students who looked like they wanted to run.

Alex made his way down the aisle and up to the stage, where the man was waiting, tapping his gun impatiently against the side of the podium.

He felt numb. This all had to be part of a dream.

"Hello, Alex Rider." The man shifted the gun to his left hand and lifted his right, offering it to him, "My name is Andrew Kosta. I believe you've met my brother."

Alex took the hand, "Oh yeah, he was the crazy one, yeah?"

The grip on his hand tightened. This was his chance. He shifted his weight to his heels, jerking the man forward. His other hand snatched the gun out of Kosta's hand. With another well-timed pull, the man rolled over Alex's shoulder. He used the butt on the gun to temporarily stun him, or if he was lucky, knock him unconscious.

Pop pop!

Alex's breath was knocked right out of his lungs as the two men on the stage fired two bullets at him. He thanked his paranoia for telling him to wear his Kevlar vest every day to school. He retaliated with two bullets of hit own. They fell, one with a bullet to the head, and the other, to the neck.

Screams of panic rose up from the crowd again. Alex, on the ground, could see Mr. Bray's worried face. He was trying to force his way towards him.

No. A Zeta agent was aiming at the headmaster.

Alex somehow rolled over to his stomach, ignoring the pain in his chest, and fired at the agent. He had to eliminate the threat.

Where was his fucking backup?

Alex sprung up, dodging bullets by taking shelter behind the podium. He ignored the blood and the corpse.

Bang!

Another Zeta agent down.

Pop pop pop pop!

Alex didn't have to look to see that he had hit his intended target. There was only one agent left, besides the unconscious Kosta. It occurred to him that maybe he should try to bring them in alive, for questioning.

Pop pop pop pop pop pop!

"That might be a bit difficult," Alex muttered to himself.

He stood, firing his own shot. The man dodged it with ease, returning fire.

"Dammit!" Alex hissed as a bullet came dangerously close to his neck. It grazed the side of his neck, leaving behind a trail of fiery pain. The next bullet did hit him, impaling his left shoulder, where it just missed the Kevlar vest.

BANG!

The Zeta agent in front of him dropped, sent sprawling by a bullet that Alex hadn't fired. He looked around wildly, sighing in relief as he saw four uniformed soldiers and a swarm of paranoid spies.

He made his way to Kosta, who was out cold from the blow. He checked the man's pulse, and then stripped the man of his three guns and four knives. He had been prepared for a massacre.

"He's unconscious." Alex called to the spies above the ruckus, "You want to… tie him up?"

A man who Alex recognized nodded and made his way up to the stage. Alex made his way towards the soldiers, who were standing at the pit of the stage, conversing in hushed tones, glancing at the corpse of the man they'd just killed.

Alex cursed as he jostled his wound too much. Blood was gushing down his arm.

"Cub!" Snake was the first to notice the wound, "Oh, fuck! Take off your shirt. Wolf, where's my first aid-kit?"

"Not here." Alex gritted his teeth, "And not in front of them." He wasn't sure if 'them' meant the other soldiers or the rest of the room. He had a feeling he'd meant both.

"This is not the time for self-consciousness, Cub." Wolf snapped, tossing Snake the kit.

"It's not!" Alex shot back, "Let's just go to the bathroom. It's just outside the hall anyway."

Seeing that he wasn't going to win, Snake agreed, guiding the teenage spy out of the hall. In the clamor, no one noticed.

"Take it off." Snake demanded as soon as they were in the bathroom. Alex could hear the worried pacing of the other three soldiers outside of the bathroom.

"Sorry, mate," Alex couldn't resist, "I don't do guys."

Snake channeled a glare that could rival Wolf's, "Take it off, or I'll hang you from your ba-"

Alex paled and quickly tore off his shirt, then his vest, wincing in pain as the wound stung horribly.

"Shit."

That was an understatement. Alex's upper body was littered with scars; old bullet wounds, and burn marks.

"I'll take care of this wound myself, if you're just going to stare." Alex snapped, lunging for the kit in Snake's arms.

Snake batted him away, "Sit."

Alex rolled his eyes, "Where?"

The redhead pointed to the sink. Alex sighed and leaned against it, watching the man wearily. He bit his lip to stifle the groan of pain that climbed to his lips as Snake dabbed at the wound.

"You are a sadistic medic, you know?" Alex growled as the man managed to pull the bullet out.

He received a satisfied hum in reply.