Chapter 23: In which Alex decides normal is overrated.

*This sentence is from Burn Notice, don't remember which episode.

It started the day he went back to school. The whispers. The tails who thought they were being subtle. His inability to decide whether to continue his contact with a Russian assassin and the concerned and pitying looks Ian sometimes shot his way. When the class went over a maths problem he could do in his sleep, the teacher asked him to stay after. Apparently, he had done it in his sleep. It was solved with maths beyond GCSE level. Crappers. He had needed them for his programming work and it had sort of gotten interesting. It wasn't his fault he was tired and algebra and calculus made life easier. The teacher seemed to be staring him down. "Can I help you, sir?" Alex figured being polite couldn't hurt. The teacher glared at him. "You can tell me why you are still in my class, for starters. I haven't seen this since university." Alex sighed. "I just…" The teacher (Alex couldn't for the life of him remember the man's name) cut him off. "Are going to report to the office for an assessment that you will try your hardest on." Alex almost groaned, but kept his face innocent with a touch of worry. "But sir, I'm going to miss…" The teacher snorted. "I think you'll live without a few hours of languages you're fluent in. I listen to my colleagues in the breakroom." That was how Alex ended up taking tests until he felt like his hand was about to bleed from the writing he'd done. With the principal and Mr. Bray breathing down his neck. They'd called Ian to. Apparently, they felt like he wasn't challenged enough in his classes or something. The vultures had been 'helpfully' circling (he meant watching) over his head until they had proof. Alex had given up trying to tell what grade they were for about four hours in. About ten minutes in, Alex had decided to actually do his best. He was tired of lying and pretending to be dumber than he was. He also wanted to see how far he'd gotten, since he had no accurate way to tell.

Ian Rider knew that he should have stopped the principal from testing Alex. It would cause questions and there would be attention. The reason he didn't was quite simple. Ian had no idea where Alex was academically and he couldn't really think of a better way to test him without involving his coworkers. His nosy coworkers who were looking for any excuse to butt in. Ian wasn't sure what to expect, but he was getting a copy of both the results and the tests themselves. A part of him was excited, even prideful. He could always have this covered up later on, if need be. Plus, he would finally get some answers. He'd taught Alex some things, but he knew Alex was studying on his own. Ian still wanted a say in his focus or at least set some limits. There only so much progress that could be healthy. And frankly, he was worried Alex wasn't sleeping well. Ian was also picking Alex up from school. It was a rare event, which he felt kinda guilty about. Well, at least he was here for this important thing, right? Ian winced at the mental excuses for a minute before adopting his usual expressiveness (or lack thereof). He strode into the school, emanating the persona he created for himself. Banker, upper management, successful. The suit was perfectly crisp. He strode into the office with a steady tread and smooth gait. "You called about assessing Alex?" The secretary seemed to be having concentration issues. It happened, he supposed. The woman flushed when she realized that she'd been staring. "Oh, yes. He should be about done. Your nephew, right?" At least she hadn't said uncle. "Yes, my brother's son." The woman smiled. "Quite the boy." More than she would ever know. "You'll have the results in a week and the tests. Depending on what he gets, you'll have to make some educational decisions for him." Ian nodded.

Alex was relieved by the time Ian got there. There were only so many tests you could sit still for before you just wanted to go to sleep. His hand still cramped and he still got headaches. There had been tests and more tests and questions he was sure were above his level. Oh, well. He would take the night off. Alex didn't think he could learn much if he tried at the moment. Ian seemed amused by his dozing off on the ride home. And in a suspiciously good mood. "And here I thought you were going for normal, Alex." Alex shot him a glare. "Normal is overrated." It was true. Without Ian and Yassen, his life would be hopelessly dull. Fenrir wouldn't be his. He wouldn't have a nice garden (even if it was dangerous) and he wouldn't be able to help Tom. Plus, he was hoping that if he got noticed by the school system, Blunt wouldn't be able to victimize him. Blunt would hopefully be less inclined to use him if he stood out at school anyway. Or maybe if he ended up getting arrested for arson or terrorist acts. Unfortunately, that would result in him going to prison (not good). In other words, he'd rather become an assassin. Ian was still being irritatingly cheerful. You know those morning people who are extra cheerful when you have a hangover? About that irritatingly cheerful. Fenrir greeted him at the door. The wolf's eyes were now the yellow color that indicated that the wolf was fully grown. It was a good thing to, because they may have needed a stable for him otherwise. The wolf would have had trouble fitting through the door and was well, unnaturally large. If Alex was being honest, he was closer to horse-size than dog-size. Ian sighed at the familiar sight of the mutant. The yellow eyes made it extra creep-tacular. At least Alex seemed happy. He might luck out and have it bite Gregorovich, he supposed. With his luck, probably not, but a guy could hope, right?

Tulip Jones was sitting in her office filling out the paperwork for Ian Rider's next mission when the lab results from the severed head came in. As expected, there was no evidence to speak of that would hold up in court, aside from the note. The kill was clean. Or as clean as a post-mortem beheading could possibly be. They would be watching Alex while Ian was gone. She wasn't heartless, after all, and Crawley could use the excitement. The agents could use the training. Frankly, she was curious about Alex's tail dodging abilities and whether or not he would use them while knowing an international assassin with terroristic ties was considering kidnapping him. The results would be telling. Alex Rider was currently the youngest and one of the most skilled people on their radar. She was getting copies of his school reports (for Ian's file, of course). Ian probably had more detailed records of both his nephew and his housekeeper in that house. Probably the 'dog' too. Tulip didn't have any illusions toward the family 'pet'. The fact that Alex Rider had done better than a roomful of experts at training a weaponized predator spoke volumes. According to the files, it was the size of a small horse, near human intelligence, and could easily tear through steel (and humans). It was almost hilarious, the comparison between the wolf and the wolf of the assassin that Alex seemed to attract. The program had been terminated after twelve deaths and five people non-lethally maimed. The remaining animals had eventually ended up escaping captivity and trapping anyone who came after them. The paperwork had been a nightmare (even if they weren't part of the program) and there was now a pack of near-human intelligence, enhanced animals running around in the South American wilderness. She really looked forward to explaining that to future prime ministers. It was sad when you thought a ten-year-old would do better at running MI6 black ops than the current head. This was what happened when you let politicians pick heads of intelligence agencies. Every important operation was surreptitiously run through the top agents, who had taken the bulk of the head's work in light of his incompetence (unofficially, of course). It was a disaster waiting to happen, which was why Tulip was glad she was in Special and not Black operations.

Ian Rider decided to tempt fate and check his private email (meaning Tulip didn't know about it). He used it for some of his sources and some...less savory family members he didn't want Alex to meet. Normally, he would be all for it, but Helen's family were all a bit homicidal. By that, he meant they belonged in an asylum. Ian thought they might be working for foreign intelligence, but really couldn't prove anything. They were on the manically loyal side of things and Ian just didn't want anybody like that around Alex, since they would insist he learn to kill. Ian knew for a fact Alex had a cousin who was about two years his senior and already as insane as the rest of that family. How anyone as nice as Helen came from that lot was a mystery, but not one Ian cared to look into. Unfortunately, the homicidal lunati- he meant darling extended family- wanted a family reunion for whatever reason (The last one had ended with them nearly shooting each other - John had defused things). Ian wanted to scream. Marion had decided that if they refused to come to this one, it would come to them. Ian rubbed his eyes as he considered the rest of (Helen and Alex's- his parents were dead) extended family. There was the patriarch, Patrick (Alex's grandfather), the mother-in-law/ grandmother was dead, Marion (Alex's aunt and probably an assassin), Darian (Helen's brother, who had actually gone to prison for murdering his wife (it was an arranged marriage, but still)), and Marion's adopted daughter (Lilian) and adopted son (Jason, who was four years older than Alex). Apparently, she had wanted kids, but no husband (plus, she was infertile- Ian had felt sorry for her). Not that Ian didn't understand not wanting a spouse, but if it was attachments you were worried about why adopt? Then again, he had Alex so he couldn't necessarily talk much. For whatever reason, they had also moved to some Middle Eastern shithole (cough, Afghanistan, cough), so now he had to take his nephew near a fucking warzone. This just proved his point of them being insane, didn't it? Time for Pashto and Dari lessons. Alex was going to be homeschooled for the rest of the year (thankfully it wasn't until the summer).

Alex was innocently petting Fenrir when Ian barged into his room. "Ever heard of knocking, uncle dearest?" Ian flinched. "Don't call me uncle, it makes me sound old. Why pray tell, would have I needed to knock?" Alex ran another hand through Fenrir's coat. "I could have been showering." Or texting Yassen. Or building explosives. Or cleaning a gun he'd taken off one of the upper years who would've shot his foot off with the way he was handling it. Ian shrugged. "I would have heard the shower." Alex sighed, knowing it was a lost cause until he was a teenager. "So, we should have a talk now." Alex sat up a little more. "A talk about what?" Ian looked tired and almost sheepish. "Your extended family on your mother's side." Alex felt a flash of fury. "I HAVE MORE FAMILY MEMBERS AND I'M JUST NOW HEARING ABOUT IT!" Ian sighed. "Before you blow your top, let me explain, please." Alex let out a breath. "I'm listening." Ian sighed. "Your relatives are complicated, mildly insane, and most likely work for foreign powers in professions similar to mine. Your uncle beat his wife to death for unknown reasons. Your grandfather was nearly convicted of war crimes. Your aunt is quite unstable and her adopted children are most likely being trained as assassins or saboteurs. For the most part, they treat family well, but I wouldn't be alone with any of them. Finally, they live in Afghanistan, so I'm planning on pulling you from school to teach you Pashto and Dari, just in case. Also, the Bank is probably going to give me an assignment, so you'll be coming with me." Alex felt his mouth fall open. "Wait, what?" This was completely different from last time.

Ian looked him dead in the eye. "I'm taking you out of school. You aren't learning anything anyway. You'll be with me, unless I think it's too dangerous. Since bringing your kids is…frowned upon, I'll get you fake passports elsewhere. It'll just be us, Alex, it'll be fun." At that Ian was giving him a mischievous smirk. "What about Jack and Tom and Jerry?" Ian sighed. "Would you really wanted them with us? They can stay, of course." Alex cringed at the mental image and agreed with Ian's decision to leave them behind. "Not to change subjects or anything, but we have to go to the Bank." Alex resisted a groan. "Why?" Blunt would be there. "You have to give a statement remember? Besides, I'll protect you." Alex sighed. "You are so explaining more when we get back." Ian looked relieved. "Deal. I'll give you instructions on the way. I haven't really told my bosses everything." Alex shrugged and they walked out to the car (again) and got in. "So basically, as far as they know you lost the note and were intimidated into silence by the assassin. You haven't heard from him since, have you?" Alex felt a squick of guilt at the lie. "No." Even if he was pissed at Yassen for sending him a severed head, he was not giving the man up, especially not to MI6. He wouldn't wish captivity in MI6 on anybody. Alex had personally experienced Alan Blunt's 'mercy', after all. He supposed he should text Yassen again. After the briefing of course. Yes, he was that petty. There was also the fact that the man had taken quite a bit of the burden off of his shoulders. Of all the criminals Alex had faced, (while Skoda hadn't been particularly dangerous) it was hard not to get personally involved with something that close to home.

Alex barely repressed a shudder as he entered the 'bank'. Into the lion's den he went. At least he had the chance to avoid getting scratched this time. Alex silently cursed Blunt with some brand new Russian swears he'd learned in the market. Ian just led the way and Crawley met them at the door. Creeps. The lot of them. They probably knew his grades, his friends, when he went to sleep...The knife in his sleeve was reassuringly fingered. It was a last resort, but it was there. The path they were on was entirely too familiar to Alex. As far as he was concerned, one visit to Blunt's office was too many visits to Blunt's office. Next was the list of poisons for all occasions he was carrying (that was literally what the instructors had called it). It was a last resort, but he could make himself or someone else very ill. The gun he was carrying was the unregistered one he'd gotten off of the idiot from school. They probably wouldn't call him out on carrying an armory, but he should have probably stuck with one of Ian's guns. There were also extra rounds that Yassen and Ian and Malagosto had ensured he could use to devastating effects, should he choose. Armed to the teeth and he still looked unassuming. Alex almost wished he'd brought Fenrir, but Ian categorically refused to let Fenrir near the car. Right. The office. Alex felt the contradictory urges of running away screaming and stabbing Blunt somewhere painful with a dull, rusty 'letter opener' (it was actually a cleverly crafted tactical knife- custom) he'd nicked a few desks back (it looked neglected and hadn't been used in a while). Definitely a tetanus shot waiting to happen. He'd find some use for it if he didn't end up putting it into the man's leg in a fit of pique (it was perfectly salvageable and he doubted anyone would miss it).

Alex repressed a final shudder as they went into the office itself. "Good afternoon, Alex." Alex was startled by the man's politeness. Then again, Blunt had never been anything less than perfectly professional. God, how he hated that man. He reminded himself it wouldn't do to stab the man. "Erm, Hi?" He did his best to sound as unobtrusive as possible. "I was hoping you would answer a few questions for us." Alex knew an order from that man when he heard it, however politely phrased. "Sure." HELL NO! Every instinct went on red-alert and he was frozen as the man turned his grey, incisive gaze upon him. Alex barely held back a shudder and the urge to snark the man. "How did you meet Yassen Gregorovich?" Alex shrugged. "I just kind of did. By accident, I guess." Blunt's stare seemed to penetrate him further. "I don't believe in accidents or coincidences." Alex allowed his eyes to heat. "What else did you want to ask?" Blunt let it go for now, at Ian's look. "Why didn't you contact anyone when you knew he was a terrorist?" Alex sighed. He hated lying. "I was afraid." Blunt raised an eyebrow. "You aren't anymore?" Alex returned the man's stare with one of his own. Oh, go to hell you interfering bastard. "I've found it easier to focus on other things." Blunt seemed to be attempting a smile. "Ah, yes. School. You really are quite the student." Alex fought back another shudder. "I try, Mr. Blunt." Never in a million years will I call you sir. "Yes, it seems you do. Back to Gregorovich. Is there anything else you'd like to share?" Like to? NO. "Not really. It's not like we met in the park for a game of football or anything. He was just there one minute and gone the next." Blunt seemed to believe him, but you never knew. "Do you know why he would send you the severed head of a drug dealer?" Alex wondered why Blunt thought he knew. "Not really." He had plenty of ideas, sure. He doubted the assassin would answer that particular question. Not like he was going to share with the class. "You must have some idea. Take a guess." What was this, test Alex day? "It could be a threat. He could be threatening someone else. It could be a message he knew you lot would get and my home address was convenient. He may be trying to warn me off or send some sort of message or it could be a sick idea of a Christmas gift, since he was kind of selling drugs to some of the school. The point is. I. Don't. Know."

Jones cut in. "He was selling drugs near your school?" Alex rolled his eyes. "Well, I didn't really have definitive proof, but gossip spreads. Also, drug dealers are obvious since addicts have to find them." SCORPIA had taught him the basics of some of their criminal enterprises. Actually, he had learned more about procedure from them than MI6. "Plus, nobody in the school wants to give up a fellow student. There is an unspoken code, you know." He wouldn't have to explain this to anyone under the age of eighteen or thirty now that he thought about it. "Is it anything like the underworld code of silence?" Alex considered the question. The sociological implications were kind of fun to think about. "Quite a bit, yeah, now that I think about it. Minus, the literal murder of course, instead you get to be a social outcast with the nutritious addition of swirlies to your lunch if you don't happen to be able to defend yourself." He could swear Jones' lips twitched. Jones sighed. "That may have to do with what set him off." John Crawley had a question. "What's a swirly?" He felt kind of old asking this. Alex gave him an amused, almost shit-eating look. "A swirly is when someone puts your head in the toilet and flushes it. I can't really speak from experience, but it doesn't look too fun." The joys of what he had to rescue bullying victims from. No wonder so many bullied kids turned egomaniacal mad-men wanted to take over the world. "Back to the topic at hand. Is there anything you can tell us about Gregorovich?" Alex shrugged. "Not really, no. Sorry." Blunt waved it off. "Off you go then. Try not to wander too far." Like he would give the man another reason to recruit him.

Alex decided to wander down to Smithers. He did genuinely like the man, despite his deception. With the way traitors were at MI6 (cough, ASH, cough), you really couldn't be too careful. Speaking of ASH...he was almost tempted to use his fancy SCORPIA training for what it was actually meant for. Maybe he'd save it for later or just hope ASIS was more proactive this time. There was a small part of him that wanted to see the agencies burn for what they had done or at least had proven there were unscrupulous enough to do in the first place. Mostly, he just wanted to be left alone and out of espionage for his childhood. He felt old as he stood at the window (one of the few in the building) and watched the pedestrians go by. It was odd, really. He looked ten, going on eleven. He was close to seventeen mentally. His finger traced the sill of the window and he stared longingly outside. The world looked, so separate, so fragile from up here. The sheer havoc he knew others could wreak… Perhaps, he felt the tiniest squelch of responsibility, maybe even empathy for certain adults (never sympathy). He knew he was bordering on hysterical for the last few days. Slipping. He was tired, so very tired. Perhaps another round at the gun range? He felt like laughing or screaming. Lied. He'd lied to a roomful of professional truth-finders and liars. Blunt, the man he was once powerless against. Jones, the person who stood there as he was torn to shreds (physically and metaphorically). Crawley, the facilitator. Ian was the man who had raised him to be this, whatever it was. Never again. He wasn't working for MI6 ever again. Alex took a deep shuddering breath. And then another. He felt raw, like he'd slowly been dousing himself in steadily more potent acid. "Easy there, short stack." Great, now he was hearing voices. "Only, one. I'm hurt you didn't recognize me." Death?! "Yep." A few changes, his ass. "You made a bargain with a primordial...think about it." So does he see through my eyes and hear every thought? "A part of me can. Relax, you won't feel a thing." Yes, that was reassuring. "It can be, you know. I am supposed to be advising you." I need alone time. "As you wish." He hadn't expected such an easy decline, but then Death wasn't overly forceful, recently anyway.

Alex continued to stare out the window for a few more seconds before heading off to the floor he knew Smithers was on. He walked up to the man's office before realizing he didn't actually have an appointment. Not like he would mind. Alex hastily sent Ian his text before knocking on the door. The man was as excitable as ever. "Alex, m'boy, come in. You must try some of this cake." Alex let a faint hint of a smile cross his face. "You know what, I think I will, thank you." The man looked as delighted as ever. Alex wondered how he had never guessed at the man's disguise. Knowing lent him an edge, he supposed. "How's the job going? IT must get pretty rough." Smithers seemed genuinely delighted by his interest. "Oh, yes. Just lack week on of my trainees decided that replacing everybody's personnel files with Pokémon characters would be just hilarious." Oh, dear. Alex felt his lips twitch. "How did that work out for him?" Smithers smirked. "He found it considerably less funny when I traced the hack and sent a virus that melted his hard drive." Alex chuckled. "I actually did have something of a long term project I was having issues with. How much do you know about non-Latin based online translators? I'm trying to make a reliable one without too many bugs." Smithers looked delighted at the challenge. "What language were you considering?" Alex tilted his head to the side. "Well, Mandarin. I've gotten into some trouble with character meaning and the structure of the code as a whole…" Alex was starting to wish he'd brought something to take notes with. It was kind of fun to talk to Smithers about technical issues. The cake was pretty good too. Alex was feeling a lot better when he got to the next phase of what his idea was. "Do you think we could do this more often, maybe online? I'll definitely have more technical issues I'm sure." Even if he had to cause them himself. "There are optimal places for online forums and I could send the password encrypted for a bit of extra fun." Smithers' eyes twinkled. "Why, certainly. I look forward to what you come up with." The man opened his mouth to ask a question when there was a knock at the door. "Come, in." Alex was kind of sad he hadn't gotten to keep talking with the man. Ian walked in. "Alex time to go." Alex shrugged. "Bye, Smithers." The man smiled at him. "Good-bye, Alex, pleasure as always."

Well, that had been surprisingly easy. Then again, Smithers had always liked him. He was sure that most field agents would be rather snobby towards the technology specialist, too. Overlooking and treating your support staff poorly was bad form and tended to be the downfall of most crime lords, among other things. People were less likely to betray you if they actually liked the job and the people they worked with. Ian was giving him suspicious looks. "What?" Alex didn't want to know what Ian thought he was up to. "How did you find Smithers' office?" Alex wondered if Ian had been this paranoid before or if he was starting to have a permanent effect on Ian's psychological state. "Jones pointed it out to me on the tour of the hallway I got on my last visit here." She had actually. Alex wondered if there was some sort of manipulation she was trying to pull. Ian's eyes narrowed. "You're awfully quiet today, but you seem to like talking with Smithers." Alex sighed. Was Ian actually jealous? "Smithers is pretty nice, you know." Ian sighed. Just what he needed. "What were you talking about?" Alex shrugged. "Computer stuff. Some online programs have these major bugs that are pretty cool." Ian mentally groaned. Why, oh, why had Jones thought it was a good idea to leave those two alone together? He would bet his considerable salary that Smithers had given him the computer books which had led to Alex hacking his school. The man also had a reputation for melting the hard drives of people who annoyed him or tried some ill-advised hacks (under the excuse it was for security purposes). The last thing he needed was for those two to give each ideas. Ian was so reporting Smithers if any of Alex's schoolmates suffered from the melting heart drive syndrome. Honestly, he'd rather Alex run around with the disguise specialist. At least Vanessa was only passive-aggressive.

Smithers would be the first to admit that Alex Rider was as unusual as his father and uncle. There were reasons people were now after both of them. He actually, genuinely liked Alex and that uncle of his. It was rare for him to meet people he actually liked. He hoped Ian Rider wouldn't take his version of a belated Christmas gift too badly. He'd sent Alex off with two books detailing bomb making. It was useful to know, even if you were just disarming them. One had the electrical diagrams and the other book had the chemical ratios and components. Both were on a flash drive, since he didn't think the bosses would approve of his present (it was also highly illegal). He highly doubted the boy would be joining any terrorists. Alex seemed far too nice to be one of them. At the way Blunt and Jones were going, Alex's recruitment would be as soon as they could recruit him and Alex would need all the knowledge he could get when the day came. Frankly, he was slightly appalled that a ten-year-old would have to spend so much time at the 'bank'. Overall, he had every right to be concerned and he refused to simply stand by and do nothing while Alex was targeted for exploitation. Ian was nice and all but occasionally blind to the manipulations and sheer ruthlessness of his bosses. Or perhaps the man simply chose to be. You never really knew, but it was worth trying to get Alex lined up for a non-combatant role. Smithers would do his absolute best to see that Alex didn't have to do much, if any field work. It wasn't that Alex wouldn't be good at it, it was that he would be too good.

Yassen Gregorovich had just gotten back from his freelance stint when he was politely summoned to Doctor Three's office. It was not exactly the first time the man had done so, and Yassen had no reason to be worried. Doctor Three was waiting at his desk. Yassen could only wonder what the man wanted. He had just gotten off a flight after all. The assassin patiently stood and waited for the man to begin. "You are a busy man, so I will not waste time." Cossack appreciated the training and the directness of the good doctor. "Julia Rothman has been an inconvenience to say the least." Oh, dear, how unfortunate. "However, some of the board would likely be upset at her direct removal." Yassen was hoping this was going the direction he thought it was. The doctor stepped up to face him, deliberately invading his personal space in what Yassen knew was part intimidation factor and part an attempt to gauge his reaction. He felt the faintest edge of violence bubble underneath his skin. "Is there something you wish for me to take care of doctor?" The man smiled thinly, knowing full well Yassen would not resist a command from him. "Well...oh dear, it appears I left the schematics for Rothman's security out. I do hope no opportunistic assassins take advantage of it." Cossack picked up the flash drive. "It would be such a shame wouldn't it." In other circumstances Cossack would have been amused. He knew the exact person to find him a way in. He could only hope Alex wouldn't ask what it was for. For now, he had a hotel to get back to and Rothman to dodge. Board politics had always been particularly deadly. Cossack knew what his fate would be should he fail. Yassen slept for four hours after he got back and texted Alex. It wasn't that he wouldn't be able to find a way in, it was that Alex would find several and be generally faster at it. Frankly, he was also hoping that Alex would have forgiven him by now - it hadn't really been that long, but he was already slightly lonely. He fingered the phone lightly before opening it up to text a certain ten-year-old.

- A

I need a way in. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.

- C

Alex blinked sleepily at the text and downloaded the incoming file. He really should have gone to sleep, but this was interesting. Besides, he was passive-aggressively pissed at Ian for postponing the whole family discussion until later. A flash of amusement came as Death broadcasted him a line that he'd heard. You know spies, bunch of bitchy little girls.*

-C

I'm on it. I'll get back to you in a day or two. You might not want to show your face around here for a while though. The 'bank' is now on red alert.

-A

Cossack was touched. It was almost like he cared. He knew Alex's reasons for keeping in contact were rather a mixed bag. He didn't wish to push his luck, right now. Alex knew he was an assassin, but Cossack couldn't shake the feeling that he was on thin ice for that stunt. Still, if Ian Rider had allowed that much of a crime network in his neighborhood, he was falling down on the job. A nice beheading tended to take care of cowardly drug dealers.

-A

Thank you for the concern, Alex, but I am aware. Drug dealers can be dangerous, you know? Besides, I needed a break from dinner parties.

-C

-C

Snappy. And really, a severed head? Who the hell would invite you to dinner anyway? Did they want someone dead or something?

-A

-A

It sends a message. Sadly, no. One of my employers decided it would be a wonderful idea to host parties with assassins and alcohol. Suffice to say if you ever meet Rothman, the cow, in person get away as quickly as possible. It shouldn't be an issue, though.

-C

-C

She sounds insane. And bitchy. Rothman? Ian told me stories. Definitely on the list of people never to be in the same country with.

-A

Cossack withheld a laugh. He was glad someone would agree with him on this. Now to work on his languages. You could never know too many. He would miss the brat if something terrible happened. He hoped Ian Rider was smart enough to keep his nephew safe.

-A

Alex, oh dear. Such language. You need your sleep, don't worry about the cow. I can take care of myself, after all. Get back to me soon. And this counts as part of my favor.

-C

Alex smirked. Poor, poor Yassen. Served him right for shipping him a head. Parties and Yassen just didn't seem like it would end well. He might break someone's neck or something. Alex could picture it now. Yassen would stalk around and avoid people if possible. Then some poor sap would get his neck broken for being an idiot or whatever Yassen broke necks for these days. He couldn't picture the board members or teachers enjoying themselves either. Yu would try to poison someone. Three would probably fantasize about torturing someone. Ross would probably offer a 'live demonstration' to anyone idiotic enough to get drunk at a party full of terrorists (what he wouldn't mention would be that they were the target practice). He could imagine Jet fitting in alright, he supposed. Nile would probably get stuck babysitting and trying to prevent a bloodbath. Alex laughed at the mental images he was getting. Little did he know how accurate they were… He redirected his attention to the file it looked suspiciously like Rothman's house. Alex sighed, but really, letting her die was not really a traumatic issue. He began to pick apart the security piece by piece. For the woman who ordered his father's death, with his mother and hundreds of others as collateral damage, and was willing to sacrifice hundreds of thousands of children in the name of profit, he had not a sliver of compassion. In fact, he would have helped Yassen for free for this. Alex wondered who she'd pissed of this badly. Yassen tended to charge upwards of a couple hundred thousand. Maybe another board member? They'd killed Kroll without a thought. Very few people otherwise would have the guts to target a board member. Alex wondered who was backing Yassen. Three maybe? The doctor tended to favor the younger and gifted students. Yassen would have gotten his attention. Chase? Yu? Alex suppose it depended on the politics involved.

Alex recalled the most civil conversation he'd had with any criminal. He'd been walking home from his new school and had spotted the man in a suit far too expensive for government work. It had taken Alex seconds to realize that the world renowned torture expert and SCORPIA board member was in front of him. The man have given him a half smile. "I'm not here to kill you, Alex. Alas, the last nine who tried died in a 'tragic accident'." The man seemed almost fond. "Walk with me." Like Alex had a choice. "If we had known Rothman was going to be so wasteful, we would have intervened sooner." Alex raised an eyebrow. "Really?" The doctor's walk was smooth, despite his age. "It was only after the sniper was sent, we discovered her plot to kill you first. Self-defense is quite reasonable, you know. It was one of the reasons an additional sniper was not sent, incidentally." Alex knew he should know better than to comment. "What happens now, doctor?" The man raised an eyebrow. "I suppose you are out of espionage permanently." Alex half-glared at him. "You suppose correctly." The man maintained their walking pace. "A shame, really, you would have made a wonderful sight to watch or perhaps work with." Alex nearly retorted, but remembered the armed gunman near his school. "Since you are out permanently, I see no reason to punish you further than you already have been. The loss of a loved one is quite excruciating." Alex rose to the obvious bait. "And entirely the fault of the board. Everyone knows you guys do unanimous decisions, you know." The doctor sighed. "I was against Razim's recruitment and the twins, so gauche, but sometimes there are survival votes, Alex." Alex sighed. "Just don't try anything here." The doctor had the faintest hint of a smirk as they arrived at the front of the Pleasure's house. "I wouldn't dream of it, after all, you might have another accident." Alex rolled his eyes as the man exited. Overdramatic prats. Why was it that no one believed him when he claimed that those dead guys really were an accident?

Alex decided to sleep. Oh, well, normal was overrated right?