Well i have got to dedicate this chapter to op-fan98 who informed me that chapter1 was in droid english not human english

Warning: Mentions of drug abuse.

Witha quietly drawn out sigh, Alex realised that last night's heavy binge had taken a big toll on him, if the tremor in his hands and the dull ache in the place of his liver had anything to say about it. Willing himself to sink into the worn out seats, Alex tightly shut his eyes, digging the heel of his shaking palms into his eyes. He was having vivid flashes of crushing and snorting some tablets with his new found friends. He vaguely remembered hearing someone say Pregablin. Alex sat back, leaning his head on the head rest, and glanced at the rear view mirror with his bloodshot eyes, surrounded by dark circles.

The driver was glancing at him through the mirrors. 'Well, lord' luv a duck' he laughed 'You look tom tit, heavy night laddy?" he asked with a thick cockney accent.

Alex merely groaned in reply, not wanting to start a conversation, especially one that would require Alex to lie. He did not have enough brain cells alive to do that at this moment in time. 'Bloody ubers trying to shut you down, it's an absolute disgrace', ceasing the driver from asking him anymore questions but opening the floodgates to a rant. The rest of the ride consisted of Alex dourly looking out the window whilst the driver swore at other drivers meanwhile explaining the dire economic situation.

As the driver pulled up at the destination, Alex thrust the money into his hand and climbed out of the taxi with a heavy heart and a throbbing headache, muttering a thank you. Stumbling down the street he absentmindedly kicked small stones in his path, squinting at the harsh sun light peeking through the clouds.

The address Alex gave was a few streets away from the flat, his home. Alex mentally scoffed and drudgingly walked along. It was a far cry from the house where he spent his life In Chelsea. He had long sold that home, the ghost lying in wait in each room was a contributing factor.

After Jack. After losing Jack, it was all just... hard? NO, it was worse than hard, it was soul tearing. It was agonising - 'emotionally damaging', the shrinks called it. Jack had always been there for him, she loved him unconditionally, and he killed her, just like he killed all the others.

He did go to live with the Pleasures, but the grass isn't greener on the other side. The Pleasures were patient and hopeful that they could fix him. Cover up the cracks and replace the broken bits with positive thinking and smiles and a whole lot of sharing feelings. All the pretending was tiring, he could not just lock a part of him away. The old Alex was gone he died with Julius. Every dark crevice and shadow hid potential danger. That woman with a baby who walked past him twice in the supermarket could have been a sleeper agent, marking him. The hand the grabbed his shoulder in a crowded school corridor could easily be a hostile. In a world full of terrorist and murderers Jack was the light that lit the path. Without her. It was just a big mess. He was stupid to have things that he could lose so quickly, that could die so easily.

He couldn't stand the pitying looks they gave him. They said he lost his innocence, but it just didn't disappear. It was ripped, clawed away bit by bit. Sometimes quietly, other times kicking and screaming, but nonetheless payment was taken, and it always left a scar. Leaving him jagged, raw, with nothing. It was almost similar to dying and being reborn again, he was never quite the same. Stripped him pieces by piece, layer by layer.

Some people would find it surprising but death doesn't happen at one given moment. It occurs in stages and layers, and if something did manage to fight and grow from the shattered remains it would be weak, twisted and deformed leaving a trail of damage in its wake. Each time Alex looked back the trail would be long and longer. Sure to say it wasn't working out with the Pleasures, or more he wasn't working. Less than a year later he came back to England, with a few choice words he had MI6 emancipate him.

Hounslow was now his area of residence in London. His flat in the tower block was strategically and methodically chosen, second floor, high enough so it cannot be climbed from the street, but low enough for Alex to jump out if necessary. There were other building in the surroundings but surveillance of any kind would be difficult. Feeling eyes on him, he began to watch the reflection of the scene behind him in passing cars, he did not spot anything out of place, but he could not shake the feeling he was being watched, a voice in his head was screaming at him that he was being followed. Chancing it he stopped and began to wildly look around, not seeing anything he cursed himself for his paranoia. He attempted to unlock the entrance to the tower block, which proved to be an impossible feat, as his hand was shaking and the key sliding across the lock, clattering across in a deafening manner. He could not steady his hand enough to insert it through the key hole. Forcing himself to focus was just adding to the hammering in his head. With a cry of frustration, Alex kicked the door before sliding down to the floor with his face buried in his hands, not caring about passers-by who were looking at him. After what felt like hours but was most likely a handful of minutes, there was the sound of shoes scuffing the floor from behind the door. Alex stood up, slipping in when the door was opened by a young woman, she barely noticed Alex as she was too engrossed in her phone. He walked up the stairs to his floor, silently thanking Smithers for the fingerprint scanner on the back side of the door handle. Closing the door behind him, he walked straight to his bedroom, promptly face planting the bed, wanting to do nothing but sleep through the next few years.

The next few days followed by uneventful he was careful to not have a repeat episode of the binge, working shifts in the restaurant. Going around the back with his colleagues in their break to complain about customers, smoke or to even share a glass or two of wine they have acquitted. Alex had noticed that every now and then some unsavoury characters or mysterious group of men would be ushered to the side entrance, down the stairs and into the bar, perhaps to conduct meetings. Alex could never find an opportunity to check.

Until one day, when he caught a glimpse of men being ushered in to the office, nothing out of the ordinary except for a brief flash of a gun. A part of him was tempted to cast this out of his mind and just carry on, maybe he just imagined it. Maybe he didn't want to get shot again. maybe he didn't want anyone to die because of his inability to leave things alone. One thing was certain he could never not be him, plus he could never resist the pull, the rush of adrenaline was addictive. He quickly and quietly walked to the adjoining room, knowing that the ventilation systems in both rooms were connected allowing a free flow of air and conversation. Alex bought a chair to the wall and climbed up and put his ear to the ventilation shaft catching snippets of the conversation.

"...Proceeding to plan... problems to be taken care of? "

" No, mistakes!"

"...The shipment?"

" We are losing money and time; the window is closing fast..."

"bay 15, ship coming in at 02:00am "

"the cargo...

Hearing the advancing clackety-clack of approaching footsteps had Alex jumping off the chair and hiding out of sight. When the footsteps died down Alex silently slipped out of the room and back to the kitchens, where he was supposed to be working. His mind was left reeling; what organisation was this? If it even was one. What was the shipment? Fish, tins of tomatoes, people? Could all this just... Alex was pulled out of his musing with a shout from the head chef and a tea towel flying menacingly to his face.

One thought led to another, which is how he was now hiding at the Docks waiting for an apparent shipment. He had sneaked in easily enough, too easy, there were no extra security. No armed personnel. Most likely that the shipment was not coming tonight or it was low risk. He was waiting inside the office close to the docking by, the office was sparse but the window offered a good view of the area whilst simultaneously hiding him from prying eyes. He nosey-ed around the room and found it to be bare, the cupboards and desks empty. Alex found a memory stick hiding in between files and a bottle of Vodka in one of the draws, drinking to fight off the sinking chill, Na Zdorovie he saluted, taking a deep swig, relishing the burn.

He was conscious that he would need to limit himself, getting drunk and making a mistake was not an option. A little to steady his hand and silence his mind would not do much harm, considering this was turning out to be a waste of time, there was no sight of a shipment. Taking another swig, he switched on the computer, bypassing passwords and firewalls. Under the cover of darkness, he opened the files but found them to be a series of numbers and nonsensical letters and numbers in sentences. It must hold some value if it is important enough to be coded, he thought.

He copied the files on the memory stick pocketing the memory stick. Alex looked at the time, it was 03:17 and the shipment had not arrived yet. It wasn't a complete waste of time, though, as he did have the memory stick. He shut down the computer and sat down on the floor under the window. He took another gulp and closed his eyes. He realised he should start making his way back home, when he glanced down at his watch it read 04:09. If the shipment was going to come it would've arrived by now. He was either at the wrong Docks or he had the wrong day. He slowly got up to his feet, if anything he just wanted to be in bed with a pretty girl. Might as well root around the other rooms for anything of interest before he left. He bought the bottle of Vodka with him as he began to search the other rooms in the complex.

Opening a door to a pitch-black dark room, he looked around with the sparse moonlight coming through the window. This room had a different layout, he could just make out the back of a large sofa. Walking into the room, he switched on a small table lamp. There was a guard sleeping on the floor and another one on the couch. Alex froze momentarily, not sure who was more surprised, he or them. They both opened their eyes at the blinding light, squinting only to have a look of confusion when catching sight of Alex. The man on the couch got up to his feet, and in a moment of blurred reflex, Alex threw the vodka bottle straight him hitting him square in the face. He watched the guard stumble and step on the man on the floor, eventually tripping over in a heap on the floor. Alex hurriedly ran out shutting the door behind him.

Ahhhhhh Whoops.

And that was how he found himself being chased.

His feet skidded, as he took a left, banging his shoulder on the wall. He mentally swore at the origination for putting him in this situation, and his own curiosity. Words that Mrs Jones once spoke to him echoed clearly in his head: 'That's what makes you such a great spy. It isn't that you were made one or trained to be one. It's just in that in your heart you are one'.

He peered out the window in the hall way, catching movement. There were a group of armed personnel on the dock below, some were walking around the perimeter with dogs, others were standing in a group, one thing was certain - they each had a gun. Well this had escalated, getting out was going to be a lot harder than going ahead Alex saw a lone guard walking. Alex slowed to a jog. 'Hello I'm Alex, what can I call you?' he cheerfully greeted.

The guard caught unaware stumbled forward, his hand was grappling into his waistband for his gun.

Sloppy, slow, unskilled.

Alex ran forward sliding on to the floor, kicking the man's Iegs from under him. With a carefully aimed quick succession of vicious kicks, the man was dazed and groaning on the floor. Alex quickly put the guard in headlock and pressed on the windpipe until the man lost conscious. 'An ambulance perhaps,' Alex chortled only to turn around in to a barrel of a gun. Alex followed the arm to a pale skin and cold blue eyes framed by long eyelashes. His heart skipped a beat.

Alive.

He must have silently creeped in when Alex was preoccupied with the guard.

'You must be saint like, being all holey and that' Alex laughed at his own joke whilst eyeing the chest ahead him.

'Alex, give me the memory stick'.

Alex sputtered, a look of mock hurt on his face. 'What, is that it? No hello? No more love declarations or suicidal missions? Gosh, honestly comrade, I am hurt'.

The Russian stared at him scanning his face, Yassen looked at him but for some reason Alex felt unable to look him in the eye. Maybe due to the feeling of rising bile and nausea. The gun was set straight ahead, it did not waver. 'Give me the stick, it'll be easier for you '.

'I have no idea what you're talking about, I just got here. Next thing I know you lot are chasing. Honestly I should file a complaint. I just wanted to see the Docks under the moonlight'.

'You set off silent alarms as soon as you stepped foot into the building, there was a camera watching you the entire time'.

Alex mentally cursed himself, and wordlessly glanced around. He could run but he would be shot before he even took a step, no doubt Yassen was not alone, others would be headed this way. There was no escape for now. 'I'm not sure how I feel about you wanting my stick.' Alex wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. 'Grab it gently, my woman won't be happy if it's out of use'.

Yassen continued to stare at him I'm passively. 'Hands behind your head and on your knees', he softly commanded, taking a step forward. Alex smirked, rolled his eyes to the point it was in danger of falling out of his eye socket and rolling away. He did what was asked of him, and Yassen began to meticulously search him, patting him down with one hand, the other holding the gun that was still trained on him.

He was dazed by this revelation. He had watched Yassen die, he saw the blood. How on earth did he survive? Why didn't MI6 tell him that Yassen was still alive, why were they hiding it from him?

Alex scoffed. "Of course, if one person could do a Jesus and resurrect it would be you, it would have to be you. Say aren't you getting a bit old for this now?'

Alex studied his face, unabashedly staring, his eyes taking in every close detail. He always thought Yassen to be timeless a chilled statue. His face was smooth but the signs of time passing left its marking, there were fine lines forming around his nose, slight crinkles had appeared around his eyes, drooping eyelids. Blue eyes met his, Alex searched Yassen's eyes, not sure what he was exactly looking for. His fingers were restless and he had to resist the urge to touch Yassen's face. It was a childish notion but Yassen always had the aura of an immortal. ' I always thought you to be above the average man, like some sort of supervillain. But you're just like us. You're starting to get old' he said, a sad smile playing on his lips.

'You know, my mother uses this superb anti-aging cream, you should look into it. You can't out run wrinkles'. Yassen chose to say nothing and continued to search Alex, his fingers grazed a small bulge in the right back pocket. Yassens nimble finger deftly slipped in to grab it, Alex leaned in to the other man and let out lewd moan. Yassen merely shoved him harshly, Alex lost his balance and fell to the floor. Yassen pocketed the memory stick and his phone, looking at Alex who was leaning back into his elbows.

The other goons began to trickle in to the corridor, and Yassen motioned Alex to get up and gave him a small shove to get him moving. Alex began to walk, the nose of the gun pressed in to his back a constant reminder.

'Where are you taking me?'

Yassen only jabbed the gun Into his back as a reply. Alex silently walked on following the one worded instructions, taking care to place one foot in front of the other and not stumble.

He was led to a room that was empty except for a chair in the middle of the room, Alex ignored Yassen and sat down on the chair, before anyone beat him to it. He knew he'd be damned if he did this standing up. One of the goons tied Alex's arm behind his back, and they weren't gentle about it. Yassen went out of the room to talk on his phone, must have been updating his master. Alex strained to hear but he couldn't make anything out. A few of the goons were dotted around the room, watching him. Alex was lounged upon the chair as if it was a throne, legs spread out and stretched. ' I wouldn't say no to a cuppa, all this running around has me parched', The men barely blinked and ignored him.

Yassen walked back into the room and stood by the entrance, he looked everywhere except for Alex. How curious, Yassen was actively avoiding his gave, Alex watched him with narrow eyes and voiced out loud, 'You remind me of that ex-girlfriend that you see on the street who pretends they don't remember you exist, but you know what baby, it wasn't all bad'. Alex mentally berated himself; the filter for his mouth was gone.

Yassen continued to ignore him, what a bore. Alex turned his head and looked at the goon close to him, he looked Mediterranean. 'You importing them in these days, do they even speak English? I suppose you just can't get the workers, especially with Brexit and Trump.'. With a smirk he asked the Mediterranean 'hablo taco... burrito?' The goon in question simply glared in response. Yassen gave Alex a warning look, Alex crossed his ankles over each other, leaning back and resting his head on the chair and laughed with delight.

'So what's a big shark like you doing in the kids playground?' , he asked glancing at Yassen, flashing a sympathetic smile. Alex spoke up in a mocking voice, 'oh dear, are you not allowed to play with the big boys in the adult playground? Are they all being mean to you now?'

Alex looked around the room, his thoughts wondering. He remembered the day he stumbled back from that stranger's home and the feeling of being watched. In hindsight he wasn't being paranoid, it must've been a pesky little Comrade borscht.

He was cut short by a man walking in, a silver fox. This must be the big bad boss. The goons began to trickle out except for Yassen who had now walked to stand by the wall behind Alex. Alex made sure to garner the attention of the Mediterranean, and winked at him in an exaggerated fashion, laughing at the flash of anger in the other man's eyes.

'I see you're making new friends, I must warn you to not rile up my men too much' the silver fox spoke, his voice cultured.

Alex surveyed the new comer with a shit-eating grin, he was stood leaning against the wall, watching Alex intently. He was considerably older looking, at least in his late 40s, handsome no doubt with grey eyes, salt and pepper hair. He was wearing a smart suit that outlined his firm body. He certainly looked good for his age. Alex chortled, 'Between you and him, 'nodding in the direction of the Russian, 'I feel as if I've gate-crashed a OAP party'.

The man pushed off the wall and began to walk around Alex in a predatory manner. 'I've heard all about the great Alexander Jonathan Rider, I have to say I am disappointed. You hardly seemed worth the trouble'.

Alex looked straight on ahead, refraining from following him with his eyes. 'Careful now, at your age all this walking around in circles will have your hip popping out'.

'Childlike idiocy, uncouth, reckless, unskilled, inexperienced'.

'Please don't hold back, do give me your honest opinion'.

The silver fox stopped directly in front of Alex, sitting on his haunches and looking straight into Alex with his piercing eyes. 'Those are the things we know you are not. Yet here you are drunk, a saboteur to your own effort.'

Alex flinched at the truth in his words. 'Honestly as interrogations go, I am feeling really attacked right now. What can I say? I'm having a midlife crisis', Alex drawled a bitter smile played on his lips. 'I have to say loved the motivational speech, if you are looking to be my father the position is open, just send a CV to...'

The silver fox abruptly stood up and planted a stong kick to Alex's chest, sending him and the chair flying backwards. Damn, the old man packed a powerful kick.

Alex groaned. 'Nope, you're not doing great on the parental side, bad daddy'. His chair slammed into the floor, and bounced sideways. His head had taken a double hit and it was not amused.

'You can't hide behind your words forever Alexander.' The silver fox leisurely walked towards Alex. Without a warning he kicked Alex in his stomach and chest, it had Alex violently coughing and dry heaving. He attempted to curl into himself but the foot pressed into his side and flipped him over on to his back. His hands were trapped behind the chair and was pressed down in an awkward angle in to the floor by his body weight. When the black spots disappeared from his vision, Alex spoke hoarsely. 'Normally I would like to do other enjoyable activities when I'm on my back'.

The fox stood straddling him. 'I'm going to ask you a series of question and you'll answer them honestly or I will be having fun with you, who knows I might even be able to make you scream." He was interrupted by a brunette woman walking in through the door. She was dressed in a grey suit with a knee length skirt with her hair tied up in a neat bun. She looked familiar... With a start, Alex recognized her as one of the waitresses from the restaurant. Her name was Maria, if that was even her real name. During one of the numerous times Alex had gone round the back on his break, he was joined by a few of his work colleagues and Maria. They must've stayed there for nearly an hour sharing a bottle of prosecco and a pack of Marlboro between them. Maria was a quiet one, she did not drink, but she did smoke a little. Now that Alex thought about it Maria had not disclosed much information about herself and she started at the restaurant a little after Alex. She was most likely there as a little spy. The million dollar question was whether she was there to spy specifically on Alex. The silver fox must be the mysterious owner for the bar and restaurant, Alex realised. Maria trotted in, holding a silver serving tray in her hand. From this angle Alex could not see if anything was on it unless it was just an empty tray were planning to beat him with.

'If it isn't sweet Maria.' Maria glanced at Alex with a disinterested look. 'Ouch! Come on, aren't you at least going to ask how I'm feeling?' Alex questioned her.

Maria stood holding the tray in her hand, she looked at the silver fox who was observing Alex with a small smile, he gave a small nod and Maria turned to face Alex and asked, 'How are you feeling?'

'Come closer and feel for yourself,' Alex retorted back with a charming smile.

Alex looked up at the silver fox, coyly peering from under his lashes and purred out, 'why don't you have your lovely assistant torture it from me, I assure you it would be fun for the both of us'. The silver fox reached down and grabbed Alex by his throat and lifted him up. 'Alexander, that kind of language is unseemly of a gentleman to use in the presence of a lady', throwing him across the room. Alex heard Maria walk out and close the door shut behind her. The silver fox walked to Alex, the tips of his shoes were wedged underneath Alex's head. He leaned back in to his sight, albeit a little upside down and fuzzy. 'Let's start simple, how old are you?'

Alex stayed silent, his hands twitched behind him. Something flashed in the corner of his eye. The object came in to sight the silver fox was spinning it around his finger, it was a scalpel. Alex internally sighed. MI6 wouldn't be coming to save him. They didn't even know that he'd been kidnapped, he was on his own.' Nunyah'

The fox had a frown appearing on his forehead and repeated 'nunyah'

'None of your business' Alex explained with a laugh. The scalpel disappeared from his line of sight. He felt the tip tracing over his stomach. Alex closed his eyes, he might as well play along for now until he knew what the silver fox wanted. 'Just hit my sweet 16.'

The silver fox once again hauled him up and sat him and the blasted chair upright. The silver fox patted his cheek condescendingly, Alex flinched at the contact. 'See that wasn't hard, was it? Why were you sent here Alexandra? What did you find?'

'Well you know how it is. There I was having a few drinks, and the lads dared me to sneak in to the docks in the dark.'

The silver fox said nothing, he just simply jabbed the scalpel into Alex's shirt, the tip ghosted close to his skin. He drew the scalpel up and tore the shirt to this throat, Alex leaned back nearly falling over. 'Alright alright okaaaaay, just... don't'. The scalpel drew back. ' I overheard a conversation about a cargo and came to take a look, I didn't find anything except that memory stick, you know that seeing as you were watching me'. Alex reddened at the thought of them watching him down that vodka.

The silver fox looked at him. Alex grew slightly agitated. 'What?' he barked out. The silver fox shrugged and merely asked, 'who sent you here?'

Alex felt the need to defend himself. 'Look, I didn't ask for this. If it's any consolation I was applying like mad everywhere for a job and you guys rang me offering me job.' The silver fox gave him a side glance. Alex bit back a growl. 'Yes I know! I thought I just forgot that I applied...turns out it wasn't a weird coincidence. ' The silver fox looked thoughtful 'You didn't answer the question Alexandra, who sent you here'

Alex deflated on the chair, blowing away a tuft of blonde hair that fell on his face. He was an idiot for taking this mission and an even more bigger idiot for coming here, 'I can't remember,' he finally sighed out, 'as riveting as this conversation is can you just untie me and let me go home.'

Yassen who was standing quietly at the back decided to speak up ' He was most likely sent here by MI6, he has worked for them before'.

'Snitches get stitches' Alex retorted back, 'Why is he here anyway, enjoying the show Comrade Borscht'.

The silver fox looked amused, Alex wanted nothing more than to hit him with the chair and wipe that smile off his face, ' Well I hope they paid you well, funding that habit of yours can get expensive.'

Alex did all he could to not leap out of the chair and on to his feet, he needed to stay calm, they were trying to get under his skin, make him slip up, they didn't know him. He took a few calming breaths before counting off , 'One that is simply rude, two I like my nights to have a certain Je ne sais quoi'

'Hmmmm' The silver fox moved forward, 'rude as leaving without a goodbye and taking money that isn't yours, The fox looked thoughtful' or was that you collecting your payment'.

Alex stared, mouth agape, shock written all over his face ' no...'

'come now, don't be shy, a hot blooded young male like yourself, you must've added that to your list of conquest, that is unless you were the conquest?' The fox laughed at the incredulous expression on Alex's face. 'How endearing you don't even remember who you spent the night with, although with the you were snorting drugs I'm not too surprised. Your father would be disappointed in you, so would your uncle, being reckless like this, they died for you.'

Alex froze, with a look of surprise, his knuckles turning white with rage, He spoke bitterly, spitting out the words as if they were poison in his mouth ' They're dead, and last time I checked dead men don't have opinions on current issues.'

'The silver fox smirked at him, he spun in his feet and walked out of the door. Yassen followed behind him, Alex childishly stuck out his foot in a bid to trip him up but he stepped over it. The door shut firmly with a resounding clang, the lock clicking loudly in an empty room. The light switched off leaving Alex alone in the darkness.

*'Lord luv a duck 'is a phrase used to show surprise, tom tit is a Cockney rhyming slang and means shit