Yassen watched from afar, trying to keep a neutral expression as Alex walked across the yard. The thought crossed his mind that if the three clones were to attack, Alex was almost too far for him to help. He was a crack shot, and he was equipped with a stun gun as well as live ammunition, but still, the farther Alex walked the more nervous Yassen became.

He didn't like this mission. He didn't like Alex getting involved with MI6 again - or the CIA for that matter. He didn't like Alex getting tangled up with his past, especially one as dangerous as the Griefs.

He had tried to talk Alex out of this particular assignment - he really had - but the boy was insistent. Stubborn through and through. In the end, Yassen was the one being convinced. Now he was here, dressed in security garb, wondering what Alex's plan was.

Hopefully nothing too dangerous.

(Likely something outrageously dangerous.)

He watched from across the yard, keeping up the pretense of a a guard diligently doing his job. In reality, he was examining Alex's facial expressions, body language, reading his lips, trying to get the gist of their conversation.

He caught Alex's slightly defensive stance, like he was poised for flight. The gestures he was consciously using, gestures that didn't belong to him, but to a boy years dead. Caught the question on his lips: tonight?

That put Yassen on edge. What was happening tonight?

(Likely something outrageously dangerous.)

Yassen couldn't sleep, hadn't even bothered to try.

He stood in his standard issue guards room - barely bigger than the prison cells, and no more homey. He was fully dressed, the black uniform mirroring his mood. His gun was strapped to his side, accompanied by a few more strategically placed weapons.

Night had fallen, and Yassen couldn't keep his mind off Alex's conversation. Tonight. It was just a word, and with no context Yassen couldn't claim to know what it meant. Instinct alone made him think that it was something big.

He had tried to catch Alex's eye during dinner, but the boy was wholly consumed in his character and refused to engage.

Alternatively, he had tried to think up a legitimate reason to pull Alex aside. This would have been easy if the other guards were in on the mission, but they weren't. He and Alex had to keep the staff of Montserrat from becoming aware of their mission.

The only problem with that is that now Yassen was unaware of what was happening, and it had barely been a day. This mission was going south, and fast.

As if the universe was trying to prove him right (Yassen was often right, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it) the alarms started blaring.

Calmly, he turned to look out of his window. Lights were rotating and roving the yard. Dogs that Yassen hadn't seen a glimpse of previously were filling the yard, their handlers holding a leash in one hand and a gun in the other.

Guards were pouring from every visible opening (and some invisible ones). Orders were called over the piercing alarm.

In the distance, past the wall and barbed wire and guards, Yassen caught sight of four, small figures. They were illuminated for just a second by a scanning search light, the reflective numbers 09 glowed for a moment before disappearing into the night.

Yassen unholstered his gun, preparing to go out and create the pretense that he was a trustworthy guard.

He really hoped Alex knew what he was doing.

/Alex/

There was almost a physical pain associated with not being able to look at Yassen. A knot in his gut, pressure in his lungs. Similar to being sucker punched.

Alex sat at the dining table, his fake brothers around him. He was focusing on raising and lowering his spoon in sync with the others, but a part of his attention was firmly on Yassen.

The man stood across from him next to a wall. One hand rested subtly on his baton. Alex could tell Yassen was trying to get his attention, but knew that he needed to stay in character. He would try and get an update to Yassen later tonight… if he got the chance.

And that was the other thing. Things were moving a lot faster than anticipated, and Alex needed to make a choice.

Main objective: ensure the continued imprisonment of Napoleon, Joseph and Leopold Grief. Obtain information leading to the recapture of Adolf Grief.

That's what the file had said - Alex had assumed it would take longer than a day to complete these objectives. Yet here he was, sitting on information that could both ensure the three brothers continued imprisonment, as well as possibly lead to the capture of Adolf Grief.

Alex should be over the moon. Should be cashing in this information for his paycheck. But… it was the possibly that made him hesitate.

The three Grief brothers had told him - ecstatically - that they had been in contact with their eldest brother. By some stroke of lucky (or unlucky) timing, they had planned an escape for tonight.

That was a lot faster than Alex or MI6 had predicted, and that meant a few things.

One, if Alex passed on the information and left, his cover was blown. There's no way the Griefs would believe that Julius had been transferred to and from Montserrat in the space of a couple days.

Two, MI6 would be unlikely to have the time necessary to plan a good counter to the Griefs plan - furthermore, Alex didn't know the whole plan. His 'brothers' had said it was easier if he just followed their lead. He would be handing over half information, which might mean that all four Griefs escape.

Alex couldn't stand for that.

Most missions, it wouldn't be his problem. But this one… as much as Alex wished he could separate it from himself - as much as he had told Yassen it wasn't personal - it was personal.

Alex made the decision.

Alex sat on his bunk, a serene calm overtaking him.

He hadn't managed to contact Yassen, which meant that his only ally was firmly in the dark. The Griefs hadn't been as forthcoming with information as Alex had hoped, which meant that he was in the dark as well.

Alex had heard a lot of inspirational sayings that stemmed from being in the dark: without darkness there can be no light and so on and so forth. A lovely concept, but Alex had grown to realize that darkness was just that.

Dark.

There is no beauty to it, no lessons to be learned, no light to follow. If you were in the dark, God help you, because no one else could.

Alex was in the dark, and now he was praying.

A sharp click echoed through the small cell. The lock turning on his cell door. Alex glanced up, watching the metal sheet tilt inward, ever so slightly.

His body moved on autopilot, rising and exiting the cell. The three other boys were smiling happily, bouncing on their heels like baby birds freed from their cage for the first time.

Wordlessly, Napoleon took the lead down the hallway. Joseph walked closely on his older brothers heels. Leopold hopped once, bumping Alex's shoulder, then grabbing Alex's hand. Fingers interlocked, Alex was dragged down the corridor.

At the staircase, Alex was surprised when they turned up instead of down. Still, he followed quietly, allowing their plan to unfold.

Up a set of stairs, to an uninhibited floor. Alex wondered how they hadn't been caught yet. Between the cameras and the patrols, they shouldn't have made it outside of their cells, let alone as far as this.

Unless of course MI6's paranoia was well founded, and there were traitors in Montserrat. Alex wouldn't be surprised.

A door led to what appeared to be a service staircase - Montserrat wasn't always a prison after all. Alex guessed that this was used for guards now, rather than servants.

They bundled in, one at a time, going down in a line. Leopold was giggling just in front of Alex, Napoleon turned back once to shush them, but gave a maniacal chuckle of his own immediately afterwards.

Alex was thankful it was so dark. His heart was racing, sweat beaded on his forehead. He took a shaky breath, and tried to play it off like excitement.

He calmed himself by counting the steps. One, two, three… fifty, fifty-one… one hundred…

Ground floor.

And then farther. Alex was surprised, he hadn't realized there was an underground to the prison.

Alex stumbled with how fast they were descending - he imagined he could feel his ears pop with the change. They hit level floor again, and Alex finally deduced what Montserrat was.

A mine. Coal, Alex thought, judging by the smell. They were in mining tunnels. Huh.

He did his best to walk quietly, but the rounded walls and the deep stone made echos out of the smallest sounds. Even his breath was a liability, so Alex did his best not to breathe.

The tunnels seemed to stretch forever - Alex had no idea how far they went. From one side of the island to the other? It sure felt that way.

Which raised another question: how had they not been stopped by now? Should there be guards down here - it's a perfect escape route. How could their security be so tight everywhere else, and yet so lax here?

Whatever the reason, the Griefs had take advantage. If there hadn't been so many twists and turns, Alex wagered they could have been off the island by now.

Leopold tugged on his hand as they sharply turned right, then released him as the tunnel contracted in size. It must have been some kind of emergency or air shaft it was so small. Eventually they were forced to their knees, crawling through the tunnel.

Rocks bit into his palms and scraped across his knees. A sense of claustrophobia crept in, but Alex pushed it away and kept moving. The roof of the tunnel was scraping his back by the time they reached a dead end.

Napoleon, in the lead, pushed upwards, opening an overhead hatch. Moonlight poured in, and Alex made a point of wiping emotion from his face, now that he could be seen.

Up they went, in a not so graceful fashion. Alex looked around, finding them ages away from the prison, at the edge of the treeline. The prison rose darkly, silhouetted by the moon. Roving lights passed by, inches from where they stood. Alex could hear the alarms going off even from here.

"Ready, baby brother?"

Alex flinched, looking back at the group. Napoleon, Joseph, and Leopold stood in a group, smiling widely. None of them had spoken however - no, that had come from the boy standing behind them.

Tall, with black curly hair and a tan complection. Dark eyes that glinted in the night. A childish, mischievous smile that made it hard to believe this boy was a psychopathic murderer.

Alex copied the smile, showing off his teeth. "Hi Aldof."

/Yassen/

Yassen stood outside the walls now, under the guise of securing the perimeter. His gun dangled at his side as he looked to where Alex had last been seen, disappearing into the forest.

Yassen sighed, trying to expel some of the stress he was feeling. Spoiler alert: it didn't work.

God, Alex would be the death of him.

He straightened, feeling a presence at his side and assuming it was another guard. He turned, expecting another harried, panicked security person.

The man he saw, however, seem wholly unconcerned. He had short black hair and dark blue eyes that reflected calmness and thoughtfulness. He had square features, high cheekbones and thin lips pulled into a smirk.

He turned towards Yassen, speaking in what Yassen deduced to be a Liverpudlian accent. "I hope the kid knows what he's doing."

At first, Yassen said nothing. There was an underlying message there - more than one, in fact. More than Yassen cared to unravel.

"As do I."

AN:

Hi everyone! So sorry that I haven`t updated in ages! I was volunteering in Guatemala, then I was finishing up some university courses, then I was graduating high school, so its been a wild few months! But it is summer now, and hopefully I will be back to regular updates. In fact, I got inspired for a couple other stories that I will be working on, so follow me if you want to know when those come out.

Thanks for being so patient. I know this wasn`t the most exciting chapter (Honestly, I`ve been struggling with this story) but it`ll be uphill from here! I can feel the inspiration!

Stay tuned for more!