Chapter 3:

The only sounds that could be heard in the Royal & General Bank, a.k.a. MI6 headquarters, were the continuous tapping of fingers on keyboards. For the spies, it was terribly boring. That was why there were enough rumors to last a lifetime. Surprisingly, it was like high school gossip. There was the 'who likes who' rumors, the 'who's getting sacked', the 'who has a higher pay check', and 'who hates their colleagues'. There was also the spy gossip, but nobody listened to that, probably because it was far too depressing.

One spy, however, was hoping to get more spy gossip. In fact, he needed it. This spy's name is Richard Hamir, and had been working for MI6 for two years. It wasn't until four weeks ago, did his best friend –no, brother- Benjamin Daniels, join. Three weeks had passed since his "death", but there hadn't been a body.

It wasn't a surprise that Richard had been put in charge of the case. He was always so persistent with his assignments, even if he still had a desk-duty. Being practically brothers with Ben would help. He cared to much for him.

While he was staring at a diagram of the Hotel on his computer, the door swung open. Richard looked up to see one of Ben's and his' friends, Cecelia Rogers, stride into his office. There would be only one reason these days: Ben.

"Did they find him?" Richard asked. "They" referred to the agents currently combing through the remains of the building in Bangkok.

Cecelia opened her mouth but hesitated. She talked anyways. "The agents have been searching for three weeks, Rich. There isn't a trace of him for miles. They even searched the surrounding waters and only came up with debris. There might be a chance that he escaped and is unconscious, and if he is, he's not in any good condition. Also, there can be no possible way for Ben to have survived the fall, let alone the explosion. I'm sorry, Rich. I truly am."

She was. It was the sound of her voice and the look in her eyes that spoke to Richard. But he didn't pay heed to her words. To him, they weren't proof. They weren't coming from his brother. Richard knew his brother was alive. He knew that his brother was strong enough. He knew his brother wouldn't go down without a fight.

He was right.

…

Now, many of you are wondering how such an unfortunate fellow such as Benjamin Daniels could survive the explosion and drop from the thirteenth story, but it was actually his unfortunateness that saved him. Apparently, SCORPIA decided that a simple bomb and a small fall just wouldn't do. No, it was only a part of their plan.

When there were only five seconds on the clock, knock-out gas poured out of the bomb and settled upon Ben where he inhaled it. It took three seconds for the gas to kick in. He was already falling when the bomb exploded, blocking the SAS' view. He fell –as planned- on the balcony beneath him. From there, SCORPIA seized the agent.

…

Wet. That was the one word that described everything. Wet. The air was wet. The walls were wet. The ground was wet. Ben was wet. He didn't know if it was from tears, sweat, or blood. He could barely breathe in the dense air.

A sudden feeling of panic assaulted Ben. He didn't know where he was or if he was going to die. But first things first: his condition. He lifted his hand weakly and checked for any broken bones, but there were just bruises and scratches. Gingerly, he felt for any missing teeth. Nope, everything was there. Without warning, he found himself on his hands and knees. For a second he couldn't breathe. Then he was spitting blood out of his mouth.

When he was sure all the blood had been discharged of, he warily felt his face. To his horror, he could feel cuts zigzagging and crisscrossing across his cheeks and circling his eyes. His entire head was sticky and hot with blood. Al though most of his cuts weren't bleeding, he knew that he would be unrecognizable.

Ben laughed silently to himself. Of all things, he cared the most about his looks. The irony of it all! But then again, his looks were important.

Ben thought he must be deranged. Delusional. Disturbed. Demented. Well, you would be too if you were in his position. It was at that time that his captor chose to give a little visit.

…

Raúl sighed. They were being sent into Bahrain for the first time without Ben. So far there hadn't been a replacement for him. It looked like they would be working with S-unit. Not a problem, except that Ben was dead and it was his fault. If he hadn't been such an idiot that night, then K-unit wouldn't feel so… broken.

Despite the intensity of forlornness, he was grateful for the chance to be back in Bahrain. It would keep them distracted from the pain that had been affecting them for nearly a month. Just thinking about it caused a pang of grief in his chest.

Raúl looked up to see the helicopter descend on to the helipad in the middle of camp. Their ride was here.

…

Sullivan glowered at the array of bandages, pills, ointments, and drugs spread out before him. When he had joined the army, let alone the SAS, he hadn't expected one of his teammates to die. But that was why he was the medic, and since he lost a teammate, he failed. And if he failed, what was he now?

A failure.

The reason why he had joined the military was because his mother had died in a car bomb. The thought of terrorists walking the streets, hiding in the shadows of his town, lurking in the narrow alleys of his neighborhood not only scared him, but angered him as well. It was a bit exaggerated, seeing as he was only a child, but he was still angry. Terrorists took his mother's life, and would do so to others', unless someone did something against it.

After that, he tossed away his life's goal to be a doctor, quit college, and joined the army. His brother hadn't been pleased, mostly because Sullivan had been a "child prodigy". It was the truth, nonetheless, since he skipped three years of elementary, one of middle school, and two of high school, and then graduated into college at the age of thirteen. He quitted at the age of eighteen.

I should have stayed to become a