You might noticed I am a irregular updater, that is simply because I have a very irregular life at the moment. I can't plan when and how much I will write, but I found some time today to come up with this.

Chapter 4

Smithers wasn't one for the running.

No sprints, but no long distant jogs either, not even a hop on the stairs or a swift walk to catch the bus. Smithers never needed to take the bus anyway.

Running had never been required.

To think about it, the man didn't even know how to run. Theoretically, yes of course, but looking at the tips of his toes peeking out under the line of his big belly, Smithers doubted he could make those same toes cooperate with his feet and legs, in a quick manner.

First, Smithers had been amused by the upcoming cold war inside MI6. Blunt and Jones, his boss and boss-in-second, seem to stand on opposite sides of a very sharp drawn line. He had received all kinds of privileges, extra's and compliments coming from both ways.

Yes, at first he had been delighted he was used as a pawn in their silent disagreement. His budget certainly didn't complain about the extra weight it carried.

Being bribed had its pro's.

Mentally Smithers cheered for Jones side, MI6 could use a new direction, and if any, Jones was just more likable than Blunt could ever dream to be.
On the outside Smithers didn't comment however -who was he to question Blunt's fast approval of the purchasing of some more, eh… enthusiastic… explosives?

Now, he had come back from that state of judgment. Now, he wondered if it was too late to built some stamina, to go attend the firms broad gyms sometimes, get one of those member cards. Do some cardio…?

So he could make a decent run for it.

But Smithers knew it would be too little, too late, the silent war had exploded, noticeably, this night.

The evening had been fine, a bit busy, but that wasn't out of the usual. It was Ms Jones that had stood out that evening. Or let's say, the lack of Ms Jones. For first in Smithers' memory, he had gone to the more secret located night quarters, which he hated for disturbing his night and day rhythm, and found it in the noticeable absence of the head's deputy.

Jones was always there. Night and day. Smithers used to wonder if his bosses ever slept, he certainly never catch them even yawn a bit.

Warily Smithers had started to work on one of his latest developments, when a distressed agent came to report that an activity had occurred by a agent under surveillance. Blunt hastily let the man in to report, not bothering to close the door.

Now, Smithers just loved to eavesdrop.

He heard the boy, his young favourite, had been in a car crash, somewhere this night, rolled off a bridge, together with a soldier. Both were declared death.

Smithers didn't believe a word of it, Alex had a surprising way of springing back into life, when officially declared dead. Besides Smithers had never been stupid.

The reporter didn't notice the overly calm response his boss gave, but Smithers heard the unsurprised tone very clearly, the man already knew.
Blunt always knew, that was his specialty. But knowing an agent would die in an accident, was a bit over the top. The man was not an oracle.

So Smithers came to a very logical conclusion.

He may have been used as a pawn, a ping-pong ball in a heated game between his uppers; the real 'weapon' his bosses mainly fought about was the young spy. And now he was gone. Captured or disappeared, Smithers didn't know, but what he did know was that eventually, he would be next.

So the decision had come quite rapidly. He would follow Jones, for he was about hundred percent sure, she at least didn't want to execute him that easily. And following Blunt would be such a grey-parade.

Now, sitting at his desk at HQ, fiddling with his self designed gel-filled-chair, to redirect it in a perfect stand for a good brooding, he started at his run-away plan.

Preferably, without the actual running.


It was a bad beginning, that day at the McDonalds. It had been busy, at seven in the morning already, and now there was the matter of worlds' most angry looking client McDonalds had ever served.

Not that the man hadn't reason to complain, his arm did hung in a very awkward angle stuck to a iron railing near his seat. But that hardly was McDonalds fault, was it?

If you could hear said man's words, you would say the fast-food chain deliberately designed railings next to seats, so he could be cuffed to them.

For once in a long time, Wolf was panicking. How could he have been such a fool? Letting Alex walk of that easily, he should never had let him get out of his sight in any circumstances. Crawley had looked so trustworthy, friendly, likable even, that he somehow had forgotten it was MI6 they were dealing with.

Like the organization would actually stand up and tell then which one of the employees was on their side, and which one were after them. If Crawley needed to seem trustworthy, he would look that way, he was after all, a professional spy.

Looking back on it, they had been fooled so easily. Almost willingly being led by the lion to his den, eager to follow for such a simple thing as breakfast. Franticly Wolf recalled the hour before, see if he had a lead to where Crawley was taking Alex.

As soon as the boy had been out of hearing distance, Wolf had started asking, "there's a leak in MI6, we were followed this night. Have any idea who-"

Wolf had been looking at Alex retreating to the car of the MI6 agent, when he felt the cold thin handcuffs being clipped on his wrist. Just like that.
"What?" Wolf stared at the iron cuffs, to see the other end hanging on the railing at the side of their sitting spot. Furious realization made his look at Crawley.

The man smiled at him friendly as ever, and started to walk his way to the exit. As in a greeting he turned around for a moment, "As for your question, I have quite a good guess about who sold you out, haven't you?"

He had called out Alex name, he had yanked his bindings hard enough to do some damage on his hand and wrist, he had panicked because he knew it was no use. And finally he had asked for some help of the staff.

One of the waitresses had been very helpful, digging up a pair of iron scissors in a far corner of a storage room. She had tried to make him feel better, by asking if she could do anything else to help, if she needed to call somebody.

Wolf hadn't been thankful to her, he merely brushed her aside when he exited the snack bar, and swore viciously when seeing the earlier occupied parking space now very empty.

Cub was gone, and he had very little time to bring him back.


Waking up after being subdued was never pretty. Alex slowly became more conscious about his surroundings. Careful not to open his eyes, he might have the advance of surprise if he still looked unconscious, he started to focus on his other senses.

It felt like they were still in the car, maybe not the same, but definitely a car. Somehow he found it a bit ironic Crawley had taken the trouble to strap him in his seatbelts. The throbbing sound of a motor coming from under Alex, told him they were driving, but somehow he knew they weren't going so fast.

A loud hunk coming from another vehicle, made him almost move in surprise. Could it be…?

No that would be ridiculous now would it? Still, the more he thought about it, the likelier it seemed.

If his assuming was right, Crawley had been on his way to the days headquarter, coming from night quarter. On his way he might have been hungry and stopped at the nearest McDonald…only to bump into Wolf and himself?

Now, if that was the case, than they were heading for day quarters, as in heading to London. And seeing as it was somewhat past seven, it could be that they had landed in London's morning rush-hour. Judging by the several irritated car horns going off and the slow pace of the car itself, they seemed to be stuck in a traffic-jam.

Even his sincere headache couldn't suppress the tiny hint of a smile that Alex formed on his lips. If his plan would go just as simple as it had formed itself in his head, he would be out of here in no time.

The first time since midnight that night, Alex believed he smelled luck coming his way.


'I can't believe how bad I smell,' Wolf mused to himself. On top of all the rotten luck he had received for the last hours, this must be a new high. Or low, depending how one would count.

He had been able to catch a ride towards town. Luckily for him, it was a empty truck, the driver was okay with giving him a free ride, only if he didn't let himself been seen, he wasn't supposed to pick up hitchhikers. So there was plenty of space for him in the back.

Unluckily, the truck had been transporting pigs to their unfortunate destiny, and let's just say, the sight was as terrible as the stench.

Wolf contemplated on how to go from here, going into London was the first stage, and the simplest part. Second, he would have to find out where Alex had been taken. That provided a certain difficulty, the likeliest place would be MI6 itself, or other than that, it could be anywhere else.

Wolf didn't know which of those two would be best.

'Cub must be out of his wits right now. Being shoot at, crashed and now kidnapped,' Wolf couldn't help but think about the young teenager. 'But then again, Cub never seems to be without wits.'

He started to like the little devil. If only because he had been surprised by the kid during their walk trough bush and gravel. He had been okay to talk to, easy to past time with. Besides the shooting, and tiredness, and overall distress of being followed, it had been sort of an ok night.

He didn't know what to make out of the kid anymore. He wanted to throttle him, for being such a cheek, for being a right pain in the **, the way he attracted danger like honey. And still, somewhere, somehow, the kid was likable.

Ben, his former teammate, once described Cub as an innocent child. Well, Wolf couldn't disagree more. Cub was anything but innocent. The sarcasm that had been produced by the boy, was enough to blow that bubble image. And some of the more sharp comments had made him think of Alex more as a rebellious teenager, than a sweet child.

But he did look younger, when he had been sleeping in the front seat.

Maybe it was because Wolf was used to working in a team, and being bunked alone in a dark truck, he had too many time to contemplate his thoughts. Wolf knew that overthinking a situation, didn't always worked for the best for him. Most of the time, he was on his best when he needed to improvise.

Or maybe it was because he was used to being the leader. The kid had been remarkably compliant to his bossing. Why was that anyway? Maybe Cub had sort of trusted him?

Yeah, that thought even depressed him more. Here he was, wallowing in worthless circumstances, no clear goal, losing a kid who trusted him to protect him, and being lost himself. This day better end in a big fairytale if it wanted to turn out good.

Wolf stretched out, fighting the stiffness out his joint, and calmed a bit more. 'No need to go into melodramatics. The kid can fend for himself, can't he now?' he tried to tell himself. 'See over thinking things, only makes it worse.'

For a moment Wolf closed his eyes, in an attempt to catch a quick rest. But the stank only seemed to intensify when he shut his eyelids, having no distractions from it. Wolf grunted in chagrin, really when he found the kid, he would personally make him relive the hell that Wolf had gone through this night.

"An easy mission," Jones had said, well what a great lie on a great day, Wolf angrily huffed.

'Cub better take care of himself' Wolf settled for to ease his mind, 'if he doesn't and I'm the one who bails him out of this mess, than he will be sorry I didn't drown him for crashing my car right away.'

As on tune the truck made a sharp turn, making Wolf tumble to the side. The ground he landed on had one pro, it was soft. But looking at the pile of poo and dirt he had fallen on, Wolf couldn't see that particular detail. Yes, Cub was in for some heavy repaying.

"Bring him back in one piece," Jones had told them that night, and Wolf couldn't help but think how accurate her choice of words had been.

Wolf was determined to haul Alex back. But if he could do that and keeping him in one piece, was an entirely different matter.


Meanwhile, the morning had provided a perfect distraction for Smithers to execute his ingenious plan.

The tension had been heavy whole night, and now it was time for everybody to go home, or go back to London's HQ.

Blunt had requested Smithers to come down to his office after everybody had left, and Smithers had taken that as his deadline.

So when the last employee, minus Smithers, took his leave, Smithers excused himself to his boss, going for the bathroom.

See his ingenious plan, was the small window at the back of the toilets. His car was stationed not far from it, and once he was outside, he could easily make his way out of there.

No running, no cardio, no busses to catch, just him and his car, sitting while leaving.

Yes the running thing had been a real obstacle to overcome, but as soon as Smithers emerged the man's bathroom, he saw another problem ahead of him.

The small window that led to his escape, really was what he called it to be, plainly small. And Smithers was kind of big man.

A swift second of contemplation, made Smithers decide that he probably –hopefully- wouldn't get stuck.

With great effort he hoisted himself on the sink next to it. If anyone could see him now, they probably wouldn't believe what their eyes told them.
On his knees in the little sink, he lifted one hand to the side of the window, just barely reaching it. With two fingers he pushed it, but it didn't budge. Stretching some more, he now added pressure with three fingers, making the window squeak.

'Just a little more,' Smithers encouraged himself when he wobbly putted one foot in the sink, and made a half stand.

That probably wasn't the best course of action; his whole bodyweight now lingered on one side of the tiny white sink. A loud shriek told him that the sink was slowly, but steadily coming down from the wall.

"but no need to worry about that,' Smithers thought reasonably when he pushed his whole hand against the small window and bugging it wide open. A breeze made its way to his face just when one side of the sink completely gave in.

'That must have made quite the noise, probably not a good idea to wait for the committee to come and watch the show' he mused and suck in his belly to give his arms some space to clench onto the window sides.

Now. On three.

One. He gripped the brinks on the side of the open window firmly.

Two. He adjusted his weight, making himself ready to hoist himself trough.

Three. As on cue the sink collapsed and gave a loud bank when hitting the floor.

Above that scene a window clapped shut and Smithers, ever so calm, dept his forehead a bit while he walked to his car.

No need for running at all.


As always, thank you 32-star

So not my best I must say, I didn't really knew how to put this chapter together. But I promise, now that this part is over and done with, I can easily move on to the next, and that one, I have a good idea about, what to do with.

Please review if you have any questions or comments. I will reply if necessary, and I probably will update sometime soon again.

Let me know what you thought of this one, I was kind of unsure.

Peachless