Alex was screwed. Only he could manage to get shot at by both the enemy and his supposed "back-up". He just had to complain about his lack of back up. Figures, the one time he got it, he wouldn't have minded.
If he wasn't so exhausted he would have laughed. Running as fast as he could, Alex made for the cover of the jungle.
"It's just surveillance. In and out, nothing difficult" Alan Blunt said calmly.
Screw you Blunt. Surveillance my ass he thought. Duking behind a tree he stopped to listen for shots. It was quiet. Looking down he picked up a small stone.
Careful to make sure it wasn't seen, he threw it in a low arch into bushes about thirty feet away. The bush was riddled with holes almost before the rock hit. So they're still there, he thought. Great. Looking into his pack he tried to see what had survived the waterfall.
Alex mentally snorted. Really, if they wanted to kill him, they should have just shot him while he slept, not push him off a waterfall. If villains hadn't had such a need to be dramatic he probably would have been dead long ago.
Rummaging through his hand caught a familiar shape. Alex allowed himself a small smile before schooling his expression once more. Keep being expressionless, even when you're alone. It'll get you into the habit and one day, that habit may save your life. As much as Alex hated Scorpia, he knew that what he had been taught was useful.
Pulling out the canister he made a mental note to give Smithers some sort of present when he got back, and he would get back. The canister was labeled Dynamic Red and was disguised as spray paint. Something a typical delinquent, rich man's son would have to "show the man". Twisting the top three times, Alex waited fifteen seconds before throwing the canister behind him.
"What the-?" Alex heard shouts and saw red. He knew the cover would only last a minute long and he had to move fast. Ducking into the cloud he watched for the tell-tail signs of others. He knew he was being chased by about twenty men, all armed and all relatively angry. Crouching low Alex picked up a few more stones. Blindly he started throwing them and moving around. Shouts and shots could be heard as the men acted without thought.
Moving carefully he almost fell over one of the men's' bodies. Glancing down he saw the gun. The man had been shot in the chest (Alex made a mental note of the lack of Kevlar) and was armed with both a Sig M11-A1 9mm Pistol and a Ruger SR22 RDS Rifle. For one second, one precious second, Alex hesitated. He always asked for a gun to protect himself but did he really want to go there? Did he want to give himself the chance to be a killer?
A shot hit the dirt next to him causing Alex to slip out of his thoughts and notice the situation around him. Almost subconsciously, his hand grabbed the Sig.
The smoke was clearing and any second he would be visible. Steeling himself, Alex saw the figures starting to form and raised the gun. He knew there would be no turning back, he knew that. He also knew that he was minutes away from passing out from a combination of exhaustion, starvation and his latest torture session. His back-up hadn't fed or patched him up before chucking him down the waterfall. People these days. Alex noted the targets took a deep breath and opened fire.
"Excellent job Alex." Mrs. Jones said sucking on a peppermint. Alex didn't bother acknowledging her. He just wanted to go home, see Jack, eat and then sleep for the rest of eternity. Looking across the desk he watched as Blunt continue fiddling with the files he was working on, completely ignoring him.
Well don't worry about me, just bleeding to death over here, nothing important, Alex thought irritated. He sighed and slumped into the plastic chair. As uncomfortable as the chair usually was, it felt like heaven to Alex. Fighting to keep awake, he glared at Blunt.
"Can I go now?" He asked, annoyance coloring his voice. Blunt continued with his files a few minutes before calling someone in to pick them up. Alex watched a man around twenty four come in. Automatically, Alex began seizing him up. He estimated his height to be around 5' 8", 235 pounds and very average.
He looked like he could be anyone, from your neighbor to the stranger at the grocery store, to a business man just trying to make a living. Typical MI6 material. Alex having been slouching and half asleep when the man was called for, now appeared sitting straight and wide awake. Without thought, his body moved into a casual position that would allow him the optimal movement.
Alex didn't notice the look of regret pass through Jones' eyes or the approval through Blunt's, he was too busy studying the new presence. Quickly, as though sensing the tension in the room, the man (Agent Harther, Alex recalled Blunt saying) picked up the files and left. As soon as the door closed Alex slouched again. He was exhausted and the bastard Blunt still hadn't dismissed him. Turning his attention back to Blunt, he glared. Blunt just stared back with a blank face.
"Can I go now?" Alex repeated his question. Blunt stared. Alex turned his glare to Mrs. Jones. He knew she had a soft spot for him and figured he'd have better luck with her. Mrs. Jones appeared slightly uncomfortable before smoothing out her expression and coolly looking back. Alex sighed.
"Why am I still here? You have what you want. Just let me go home." He said wearily, mumbling the last part. They both just stared at him before hearing a knock on the door. Alex almost groaned. Moving again into a better position, he saw Agent Harther enter.
"We have approval, sir." Blunt nodded. Closing the door he finally turned his attention to Alex.
"You're going to Brecon Beacons." Blunt said bluntly. Alex stared. 4..3..2..1..
"WHAT?!"
Blunt blinked lazily.
"You heard me. You need more training and the SAS are the best for that."
"I JUST GOT BACK FROM A MISSION. I WAS KIDNAPPED, TORTURED, THREATENED WITH HIPPOS, CHUCKED OFF A WATERFALL, SHOT AT AND YOU WANT TO SEND ME TO THAT HELL HOLE?!" Alex knew he was yelling and that would just make matters worse, but at the moment, he didn't give a damn. He had had barely three hours of sleep in the past four days, enough wounds to know that he would probably be in need of some hospitalization (Alex grimaced at this. He hated hospitals.) and they were still sending him to train with the SAS? What the hell kind of logic was that?! Alex felt mildly satisfied to see Mrs. Jones slight, almost unnoticeable flinch.
Blunt's eyes narrowed on Mrs. Jones as well.
"Look," Alex said trying to calm down. "I need time to recover, not sent to train with a bunch of meatheads. I'm useful because I'm a kid right? Well, if a kid has too many injuries people will get suspicious. So how about you actually give me some down time and let me recover." Blunt turned his attention back to Alex.
"You barely survived your last mission-"
"I always barely survive. How nice of you to notice."
"-which shows you need more training. You are useful and so we need you to be able to protect yourself properly." Alex snorted at this.
"Yeah, because assassin training and SAS training are going to mix wonderfully. You're insane Blunt. I need down time." Alex said with a glare.
"You are going to Brecon Beacons and that's final, unless.." Alex sighed.
"Unless what?"
"We have a bit of a situation in a city in India. Someone rather important was killed and we need someone to look into it. It shouldn't be too difficult, just surveillance-"
"No. Way. In. Hell. Your 'surveillance' and 'not difficult' have almost gotten me killed. Repeatedly. And that was when I was in good health. You send me in now and I won't be coming back." Mrs. Jones cleared her throat. Alex turned his glare on her.
"What?" He said.
"Alex, we aren't only sending you to Brecon Beacons for training. We're also sending you for protection. We've received reports of an organization that may be after you and we can't allow that so we thought to send you to the safest place we could think of."
"What's this organization called?" Alex asked, suspicious.
"That's classified." Blunt said, cutting off whatever Mrs. Jones had been about to say. Alex started glaring at Blunt again.
"I don't care, I'm not going."
"That's too bad. Give my apologies to Ms. Starbright." Alex narrowed his eyes.
"Why? It's not like you can deport her now. Her visa is still good for nine months."
"Well, as Mrs. Jones said, there is an organization after you and while we can protect you to a point, Ms. Starbright may have to fend for herself." Alex was furious. He knew Blunt was a heartless bastard but this was a whole new level. Sure Blunt had threatened to deport her, but now it was her life he was threatening. Standing up, Alex walked away.
"Pack your things, you leave in two hours." He heard Blunt call. Alex didn't stop. Blunt had won and they both knew it. Sighing, Alex started thinking about what he should tell Jack.
"Jack, I'm home." Alex called flopping onto the couch. He knew he didn't have time and should be packing but he was too tired.
"ALEX!" The call was his only warning before a second body covered his own.
"Are you okay? What happened? Is that blood? Why aren't you in a hospital? Where-"
"Jack calm down. I'm fine, just tired. Yeah that's blood but it's not all mine so don't worry. I'm not in the hospital because I have to pack. Apparently they want to send me in for more training at Brecon Beacons with the SAS." Alex explained the situation more to her and then, when she asked, started talking about what had happened on his latest mission.
Her face grew darker and darker as Alex recounted the events. When he reached the part where he had killed the men his voice cracked and he realized he was crying. That's odd, he thought, I don't remember crying. He felt Jack's arms around him and leaned into the embracing letting it all go. All the horror and pain, the fear and his own feelings of regret. Not regret for killing those men. He had already decided to not regret that, he regretted what little innocence he had left being destroyed. He had always thought killing someone in cold blood would be a big deal. That something in him would shatter or that he would at least feel something. But he didn't.
They had died so easily and he couldn't even regret it. Not here in Jack's arms, knowing he was there only because he had killed those men.
Alex didn't know how long he and Jack sat like that on the couch but he knew he'd have to leave soon. Standing up, he gave Jack a small smile of thanks before heading upstairs to pack.
(Sergeant POV)
The Sergeant always considered himself a reasonable man. If two men got in a fight, they would both be punished. If there was an enemy, they would be neutralized. If there was one cookie left in the jar, he would eat it. All reasonable conclusions, so what the hell was he supposed to do with a kid in a camp of soldiers? Standing in front of him, the kid in question looked like he'd been through the grinder. Bruises littered his arms and neck (was that a handprint?!), his face and whole body in general had scratches, and his left arm was in a sling. Sergeant released a mental sigh.
"Cub." He said.
"Sir." Cub answered back sharply. Sergeant made a note of the dark circles under his eyes and wondered how much sleep he had gotten.
"What are you doing here?" He figured he might as well ask.
"Orders, sir." The Sergeant let out a real sigh this time.
"Relax Cub, you're injured and I've been ordered to give you a week before starting your actual training. You'll be assigned to J-Unit and for the following week will go with them everywhere. I've been informed that you are to be trained in everything, including the things previously barred. You will be attending all the lectures your unit does." Sergeant thought for a moment, "MI6 has also assigned you a tutor you will be meeting tomorrow to continue your studies. Your injuries appear superficial but I want you to let your team medic give you a check-up or you can go to the infirmary. The choice is yours. Understood?" Sergeant saw the slight twitch at the mention of a tutor. Strange, nothing else had surprised the kid, why would the furthering of his education shock him?
"Yes sir."
"You know where their barracks are. Get moving."
Alex sighed and rubbed his eyes with his good hand. This proved to be a slight challenge as he was also holding a bag heavy with his thing, as well as not wanting the said bag to touch his chest and the bruised ribs underneath. After walking out of the Sergeants office, Alex had let out his own sigh. The Sergeant had acted oddly…human. He had expected yelling and curses. Not-, whatever that was. Don't get him wrong, Alex was grateful but it was still disconcerting.
Alex considered his situation. On one hand, at least he wouldn't be with K-unit, but on the other Alex had become at least friendly with Snake and Ben, Wolf was still an unknown variable, but he had sent that get well card so who knows. Besides, J-Unit could prove to be even worse than K-Unit had. Also the medic situation. Alex grimaced. He couldn't disobey Sergeant blatantly and not get a check-up. Still he didn't want his unit to know about all the scars so soon. That would lead to questions, unnecessary questions that would only get him more trouble.
Deciding to go to the infirmary first, Alex picked up his bag and headed south. It took him a few minutes to find the infirmary; after all, it had been two years since he had last been here. At sixteen, Alex was still being forced to work for the bastards at MI6. Heading in he saw the curious looks shot his way. Going to the desk he cleared his throat. The man looked up.
"What?"
"Sergeant ordered me here for a once over." Alex said, his voice neutral and face blank. The man looked annoyed.
"Who are you?
"My name's Cub." The man barely looked at him, typing something on the computer. Finishing he stood up and motioned for Alex to follow. Straight, left, two hallways down, another left, three doors down and a right, first room on the left.Alex took careful note of the way to the room. Always know the way out. Alex thought remembering a particularly bad mission involving a shifting maze. Alex suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, all that money and, once again, instead of just shooting him, the mad man of the day sent him into an ever changing maze with a few Rottweiler's on his tail. Why that man had a shifting maze Alex would never know. After all, even before he had picked up that gun, all his enemies had had a way of dying in the process of being defeated.
Sometimes Alex wondered about that. Was he really any better than an assassin? Assassins killed people for a living and Alex had a way of killing the people he was set against, accidentally or not. The only difference Alex could see was the pay and intention and so far, that wasn't meaning much. Alex was brought out of his thoughts by a knock. Looking up he saw a rather small man looking at him. The man had buzz cut black hair, wide green eyes that made him seen younger than he probably was and thin lips. He looked around 5'6' and seemed well built. Of course he's well built, this is the SAS, Alex thought irritated. Walking quickly with purpose and a grim look on his face, he motioned for Alex to sit on a gurney.
"I'm Dr. Richards. You must be Cub." He said moving to check his pulse. Alex nodded even though it wasn't a question. The doctor didn't say much after that. Just things like "lift your arms", "take a deep breath", "does this hurt?" Doctor things. Soon though, the doctor asked Alex to remove his shirt. Alex hesitated.
"Everything you see stays within this room right. The whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing?" He asked. The doctor raised a brow.
"He speaks. But to answer your question, yes. Why?" Alex didn't answer and simply removed his shirt. He saw the doctors eyes widen in surprise. His chest and stomach were covered in scars and wounds both old and new. He felt the doctor's hand run lightly along the stitches on his stomach. He spent a few minutes asking questions again, his voice noticeably subdued. When his hands landed on the bullet wound he broke the professionalism.
"How did this happen?" Alex stared at the ground.
"Classified." He looked up to see the doctor frowning, Motioning for him to turn around, Alex heard a gasp as he saw his back. While captured, one of his torturers had an attachment to a particularly twisted whip. The whip was similar to a nine-tails only it was made of a soft material that also conducted electricity. Every whip wound had been stanched almost immediately by the burn so the man hadn't had to worry about blood loss. Alex felt the hands touch his back and winced.
"What medications do they have you on?" Dr. Richards asked in a slightly strangled voice. Alex started listing them.
"Those are all weak pain killers. Didn't they give you anything stronger?" Alex hesitated before shaking his head.
"They don't want me to get addicted." He said quietly. The rest of the check-up went in silence. Dr. Richards checked the rest of his bandages and tested his shoulder. When they had finally finished the doctor shook his head.
"What the hell have you been doing?" Alex pulled on his shirt.
"Classified." Alex started walking out when the doctor stopped him.
"If you start feeling any more pain than you already do, I want you to come here immediately. Doesn't matter the time. Some of those wounds are serious and, if infected, can prove fatal. No heroics, understand?" Alex didn't turn around, but couldn't help a smile at the genuine concern in the doctor's voice. Alex nodded, knowing the doctor could see him and started heading towards J-Units barracks. Maybe things wouldn't be as bad as he thought.