Chapter 60: Testing, Testing

Alex woke up early the next day. He hadn't been called for breakfast, so he started his stretches. The computer parts were neatly organized on a tray at his desk, but Alex resisted the urge to go through them. The computer could be built later. Stretches were an everyday activity for the morning. Alex usually did the exercises from SCORPIA and karate in the morning and the exercises from Ian in the evening. It amounted to about three or four hours a day. Alex wasn't sure if his genetic modification gave him an edge or not. Compared to his older self, he was much weaker. Alex sighed and began completing the more intense portion of his katas. After he finished his morning exercise and shower, it was closer to a reasonable time of the morning. Alex sat down and ignored his stomach growls. He'd just picked up the first computer parts when there was a knock at his door. "Breakfast time."

It was the cook's voice. He felt vaguely guilty for forgetting to ask her name. "Thanks, um-"

The old woman smiled faintly. "Maria, mijo."

Alex smiled back at her. "Gracias, Maria."

The woman vanished back into the woodwork. Breakfast was at nine here, then. Alex figured that waking up at seven was about right, then. He strolled down to the dining room. Well, the smaller intimate one, anyway. Antonio had several. Alex sat down first. Antonio walked in shortly after. "Where's Miguel?"

Antonio smiled faintly. "He tends to lag in the mornings these days. Being fifteen does that to you."

Alex shrugged. At fifteen, he'd done his fair share of lagging with Edward, but after that, he'd always gotten up and- "I guess."

Antonio looked concerned. "When did you get up this morning?"

Alex shrugged. "Seven."

Antonio continued. "What did you do for two hours?"

Alex mentally sighed. "Morning exercises."

Antonio raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

Alex took the first bite of eggs. "Looked at the computer parts. How much do I owe you by the way?"

Antonio gave him a look. "It's a gift."

Alex looked puzzled. "Uh, okay, if you're sure."

Antonio glared. "Yes, I am. You're twelve. It's a birthday gift."

Alex blinked. "You already gave me one."

Antonio gave him the stink eye. "Well, it's another one."

Alex decided not to press. It was only a pride thing. "No strings attached?"

Antonio looked exasperated. "No strings attached. Who the hell gives gifts with strings attached?"

Miguel entered at that moment. "Stupid, cruel people."

Alex felt amused. There was no winning with these two. "Point taken."

Alex suddenly felt much hungrier.

Antonio looked amused at Alex's expression. "Another one?"

They had been testing for hours. Antonio's lips twitched. "Yes."

Alex moaned. "Why?"

Antonio shook a little bit. Alex could tell the man was suppressing laughter. "We still haven't accessed your abilities in English, Arabic, and Mandarin."

Alex groaned. "I hate you. And English is my native bloody language. Well, one of them anyway."

Antonio just gave him a look. "I only want to assign lessons appropriate for your level, Alex."

Alex sighed loudly. "Fine. But I want dinner first."

It was about four-thirty local time. Antonio smirked. "That can be arranged."

Alex sat down. He had the worst headache. "Alright?"

Alex rubbed his eyes. "I have a headache."

Antonio looked concerned. "Do you need a doctor?"

Alex shook his head. "No, just food."

Antonio sat with him. The old dude with the testing papers was eyeing them both. "What exactly is your relationship?"

Antonio glared at the man. "That is none of your business."

The old man looked right back at the man. "The last time you did this, your son- oh, oh."

Antonio blinked and then looked amused at the man. "I would appreciate it if the news never left my inner circle."

The old man paled. "Of course."

He left. Alex felt something twitch internally inside him. "He's a spy, Antonio."

The Mexican nodded. "I know."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "I'd have appreciated a little warning, you know."

Antonio sighed. "Sorry."

Alex snorted. "No, you're not. It was a test, wasn't it?"

Antonio blinked. "Yes, it was. You passed admirably."

Alex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He did understand the sentiment, but still. "Who does he report to?"

Antonio scowled. "Tom Card. You met him yesterday."

Alex didn't like the man. "Huh. He's in charge, then."

Antonio drawled. "Indeed."

Alex paused as dinner was brought out. He resumed speaking after the staff left. "Do you think he's a racist?"

Antonio shrugged. "I think only Card himself can answer that question. If it makes him underestimate me, so much for the better."

Alex sighed. "What would he have to gain by pretending to be racist?"

Antonio shrugged. "Potentially, quite a bit. He can gauge our tempers. It allows him to appear different in personality than he is, making counter strategy difficult. Perhaps even the support of his men who might actually be racist. As in being one of the team, that is."

Alex groaned. "I hate politics."

Antonio looked amused. "Well, if our plans work, we'll both have much less of that to worry about."

After dinner, Alex finished his tests.

With the tests finally fucking done, Alex was free for the rest of the day. It didn't leave him with much free time, but Alex figured he'd just have to make it. Alex sat at his desk, stared at the wall for a bit, and then pulled out the hand-drawn computer designs. It was time to build his new computer. Somebody had helpfully stuck tools in one of his desk drawers. Alex made a mental note to search for bugs in his room. It could be either genuine bugs or a test from Antonio. Alex didn't want to fail a single one. He knew the man needed visceral proof before he would treat Alex as a partner. Alex took a deep breath and sighed. It was still better than at home. At least here, he wouldn't get berated for failing a test. Antonio would just pull similar stuff until he got it right. Alex still didn't forgive Ian for genetically modifying him. He had no right! The last packet of materials opened with a slice of the letter opener. Alex laid the parts out and began to sort them. It was nice not to have to craft any of the hardware by hand. This was just a basic assembly. Alex eyed the parts to check that they were all there. And then he began assembling. It was surprisingly easy. Then again, he'd spent months visualizing this. And designing the parts. It had taken a lot of skill to reproduce a laptop from scratch. Thankfully, he had been a computer nerd in the past, right down to computer chips. Computer chips - Stormbreaker - Sayle. Alex blinked away the memories. He would need to do something about that. Greif. Rothman. Razim. Grimualdi's. Ash. It wasn't a bad start, but that still left the majority alive. Alex popped the screen into place and began screwing the bottom and top part of the keyboard together. Sayle would die. He'd see about Sarov. Cray would die. Nile and Yassen would live for now. Drevin would have to die. He'd have to see that Paul found a better home. Yu would die. McCain would die. The rest of the board was still ambiguous. Alex suspected Mikato, Kroll, and Kurst would be the most trouble. Then again, he knew how to kill them, so it wasn't like they were a huge obstacle. Well, Kroll had been shot by his colleagues. Mikato was usually reasonable. Kurst...held a grudge. Alex knew that. It was one of the reasons he hesitated to deal with SCORPIA directly. The computer was finished. Alex turned it on. He'd have to install an operating system or two from his flash drives. Dual boot was such a pain but needed in this case. Alex rubbed his eyes. Set-up. Ug. Well, he had a good three more hours before bedtime. Plus, the downloads of his files would take the most time. They contained automatic organization systems. Oh, well. His more interesting computer work would start tomorrow.

Alex woke up the next day. It was seven in the morning. There was next to no noise. He wondered about that. Perhaps it was because London and Paris were so much noisier. Alex checked his computer. The dual boot was done. Alex wondered if reconnecting with Smithers was the best idea. Then again, the man had never let him down before. Alex took a deep breath and then ported into their server. It was exactly as he left it. Then again, it never hurts to have a healthy suspicion of people. Alex began a full system check and groan. Even on this computer, it would take seven full hours. Still, it was worth it. Alex began his morning exercises. It was going to be a complicated endeavor. Alex moved through his exercises. It was nice to not worry about interruptions. Today, he'd be reviewing information with Antonio. And probably the next few days. It depended on how much information he had gathered. Alex was not sure how high his hopes should be. The man was, after all, basically just a crime boss. They were typically on the other side of things. Alex supposed he had to have been decent enough to stay on top of the death threats, not to mention the CIA plots he was sure existed. Alex moved the doubt out of his mind to focus on his exercises. Alex sighed loudly and got in the shower. One step at a time. Antonio was waiting for him at the breakfast table. "Good morning, Alejandro."

Alex blinked. "Antonio."

There was breakfast waiting for them on the table. None of it was foods Alex recognized. "What's all this?"

Antonio looked amused. "Dishes from around the world. I was feeling a bit whimsical today."

Alex blinked. "Your poor cook."

Antonio's eyes glinted. "It is what I pay her for, Alex."

Alex decided to go with one of the blander-looking dishes. It looked like porridge. "What's this?"

Antonio looked fairly entertained. "Tapioca pudding."

Alex tasted it. It was sweet, but not overly so. The texture was interesting. The rest of their morning went similarly. It was an interesting collection of dishes. Indonesian spiced eggs. Pickled cabbage. Tapioca pudding. Surprisingly decent bamboo and asparagus. A yogurt and mango drink. Antonio must have been in a truly odd culinary mood. Or he was showing off. Something must have shown in his expression. "I can offer far more than just Mexican fare, Alex. I want you to be comfortable."

Alex blinked. He was just being nice, then. It was strange. British food would just make him homesick. American food would remind him of Jack. "I'm fine with anything, but I prefer vinegar and Asian spice bases."

Antonio paused. "I'll speak to Maria."

And that was that. "I think it's time we looked at those reports."

They both left for Antonio's office.

Ian Rider was pacing his living room. Alex had fucking left. Again. To go live with a crime lord. Ian didn't know where he'd fucked up that badly. Maybe it was the injections? They did fuck with your mind. That could very well be it. Right now, he had another problem. Alan Blunt was dead and Tulip had done it. They didn't exactly have great alibis. Then again, they could pull the "pin the kill job on SCORPIA". What were they going to do? File a court complaint? Not bloody likely. Ian figured Tulip would go for that angle. Of course, it would help that the poison used had been traced back to Julia Rothman previously. Several times. Sloppy of her, but it would help them out now. It mattered little that Rothman was dead now. The poison involved was linked with SCORPIA and that was what mattered. Although thinking of a dead Julia Rothman put him in the mood for a nice drunken round of "Ding, Dong, The Witch is Dead". Ian heard a knock at his door. He nearly ripped it off the hinges getting it open. "Any news?"

Tulip Jones stepped inside without invitation. "On Alex? Nothing has changed. Internal Affairs is coming our way."

Ian sighed and shut the door behind Tulip, careful to lock it before proceeding. "I figured as much. I think we should blame SCORPIA."

Tulip blinked. "A bold move."

Ian shrugged. "Not really. We've linked the poison back to SCORPIA before. Plus, it is their style. Not to mention, they don't have a leg to stand on. What are they going to do? Take us to court for slander? Who's Internal Affairs going to believe? Us, or the lying, mass-murdering, scumbags?"

Jones paused. "You make a good point, Ian."

Ian grinned. "I always have a good point, Jonesy."

Jones retorted. "A good pointy knife, maybe."

Ian clutched at his chest. "I'm mortally offended, Jonesy."

Jones glared at him. "If you call me Jonesy one more time, I'm putting Cratin on Alex's case."

Ian stared at her in horror. "The cretin? Oh, hell no."

Jones gave him the evil eye. "Then shut the fuck up and focus. We have a murder investigation to get through."

Ian sighed. "Relax, Tulip. This'll go down like all of Barker's usual shenanigans. He'll grumble, he'll mumble, and then he'll find absolutely nothing useful."

Tulip snorted and then stopped herself mid-snort when she remembered she was now supposed to be the head of MI6 Special Operation. Respectable. Maintaining decorum. "Ian."

Ian gave her one of his thrice-damned innocent looks. "What?!"

Tulip tried her best not to laugh as she looked him in the eyes. "Decorum. I need to not laugh uncontrollably when Internal Affairs gets here."

Ian shrugged. "Bloody bastards won't leave us alone either way. I don't see why it matters."

Tulip resisted the groan she wanted to let out. "And that's why you'll never be deputy head. That leaves me with Crawley."

Ian shrugged. "He's a good pick."

Tulip swatted him. "And you're sleeping with him."

Ian frowned. "And?"

Tulip arched a brow meaningfully at him. "You're hardly objective."

Ian shrugged. "Just because I sleep with someone doesn't mean I can't be objective. I was right about you, even though we used to sleep together."

Jones rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes, bring it up, why don't you?"

Ian shrugged. "It was nice while it lasted, but I like Crawley better."

Tulip shrugged. "Oh, I'm over it. Don't flatter yourself, pretty boy."

Ian grinned. "I knew you still thought I was handsome."

Tulip whacked him. "Focus. We have two major events going on."

Ian shrugged, belying how tense he felt inside. "Sure, sure, boss."

Brendan Chase felt his fifth headache in two days coming on. Yassen had successfully assassinated the Grimaldi twins. But then, the CIA had to go and raid freaking Razim before they had the chance. Kurst was throwing a fit. Ian Rider's nephew was missing. The only thing that had gone right this week was Yassen assassinating the Grimaldi Twins. Pierre had gone and wreaked havoc. The CIA had raided Razim. Chase had the email he'd sent to Byrne. At least Alec "I won't stand again SCORPIA" Pierre seemed to be coming around. Kurst was throwing a shit fit to end all shit fits. Chase was tempted to gun him down mid-board-meeting. He was. Maybe Pierre would do it? Chase was hoping he would, once he joined SCORPIA. Dr. Three knocked on his door. "Yes?"

Three sat. "Wearing a hole in the carpet, are we?"

Chase was tempted to glare. "What a week. I swear, I'm going to choke Pierre the first chance I get."

Three looked...amused. It was hard to tell. "Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of recruiting him?"

Chase raised an eyebrow. "I never said I would choke him to death."

Three looked at him. "I see. Was Yassen successful?"

Chase looked at the man. "Is Yassen ever not?"

Three shrugged. "I see. Kurst is not best pleased."

Chase felt a surge of anger. "Well, I'm not best pleased with him!"

Three looked at him. "Sorry, Doc, you know how I am."

Three remained impassive. "You think he'll go after us."

Three paused. "Not openly. He would have to admit his plans to get anything done. Zeljan will probably covertly target you, given that it was you who ordered the assassination and paid the bill. Incidentally, what is your excuse for that?"

Chase shrugged. "He stuck his business where it didn't belong."

The good doctor looked amused. "Nice and vague, then."

Chase arched a brow. "What's he going to do, accuse me of spoiling his recruitment plans?"

Three looked amused. "I suppose not. Kroll would shoot him outright, then."

Chase shook his head. "We'll have to off that one someday."

Three didn't seem surprised. "That was always a given."

Chase groaned as he looked at the non-Pierre paperwork. "Try not to let your newest toy distract you, Brendan."

Chase just looked at the man. "Don't have too much fun with those experiments, Doc."

The Doctor left Chase to his work. He opened a report. It was a standard assignment. With a standard solution. In a standard format. Goddamnit, he was bored. That was his problem, he supposed. Brendan had thought a lot about how running a criminal empire would work. He'd never thought he would be so bored doing it. Forming SCORPIA had been exciting. Keeping it...was not. Chase flexed his hand. It was time to do paperwork.

Joe Byrne had what he was pretty sure was a tension headache. They had taken down Razim, successfully. The man was now six feet under. It had almost been too easy. Pierre, whoever he was, was good. Really good. He would kill for an agent like that. They had been searching for that bastard for years. But looking into Pierre created more questions than answers. Who was he? The identity was fake since it had the bare minimum and one bank account attached to it. If Pierre was on his side, why did he give a shit about what SCORPIA thought? If he was on the other side, why had he contacted them at all? If he was a French intelligence agent, why give the CIA any information? If he was, in fact, a freelancer, why didn't he ask for money? Byrne had absolutely no answers or even theories about the answers to any of these questions. Why was SCORPIA interested enough in the man to steal the file almost as soon as they finished creating it? It had like five sentences in it, for Christ's sake! Unless...no. Byrne refuses to let SCORPIA eat another good intelligence agent. He'd kidnap the man himself before he let that happen. Joe was tired of letting those goons walk all over them. Sure, they had a better relationship with them than MI6, but that didn't mean Joe particularly liked SCORPIA. Plus, he kind of liked Pierre's style, despite all of the havoc it caused. He'd hate to see the man become another boring SCORPIA goon. It was kind of nice to have an unknown ally appear from the woodwork. It gave you some faith in the world. Joe was just not going to think about Alex, right now. He'd run away and joined a cartel. To make matters worse, Razim had effectively distracted them enough that they hadn't noticed the kid of a high-ranking MI6 agent slinking through their territory. There was also the incident at the Louvre. Ian Rider had been visiting that week. It was all too much crud in one week for Joe not to be suspicious. It could be that Pierre stole from the museum to distract the French intelligence services long enough for Alex to leave the country. But if he was SCORPIA, why not just kidnap Alex outright? None of it added up. In one week, Alan Blunt died under suspicious circumstances, Razim was killed, the Grimaldi Twins were assassinated, a priceless shield was stolen from the Louvre, and the child of a high-ranking MI6 officer turned up living with the head of a drug cartel. Joe felt his head begin to pound. How had they missed all of the signs?

Yassen was not thrilled with Alex's antics as "Alec Pierre", but he would save the self-preservation beatings - he meant lectures - for when Alex was firmly under his purview. At least the identity had led him to somewhat profitable endeavors. The file on the two targets had been top-notch. Yassen would grudgingly admit that Alex had done all of his homework and plenty besides. A lesser man might have been alarmed at Alex's burgeoning sociopathic tendencies, but Yassen took it as a sign he needed guidance from a real mentor and not Ian Rider's clumsy, half-assed attempts. What had the man done to set Alex off, anyway? It must have been just terrible. Yassen knew he shouldn't delight in such things, but he was petty enough to enjoy the family squabbles that were caused by Ian's own idiocy. Bam! Nile chose that moment to barge in. "Hey, Yas, did you hear about A-"

Yassen clamped a hand over Nile's mouth. "Do not speak our future apprentice's name unless you want our plans to fall apart. Not here anyway. And, yes, I did."

Nile looked at him expectantly and Yassen removed his hand. "Are you going to text him now?"

Yassen narrowed his eyes at Nile. "I was, but I seem to have company, so it can wait."

Nile sat in a chair and leaned back. "Don't stop on my account."

Yassen arched a brow at his counterpart. "If you want to message him, then send him your own untraceable phone pair."

Nile huffed. "Oh, come on, you bastard. I just wanna see his replies and maybe suggest a question or two."

Yassen sat down. "My parents, unlike yours, were married."

Nile grinned. "Fuck you, too, Gregorovich. Are you gonna let me look over your shoulder or nah?"

Yassen glared. "You will sit six inches away from me at all times."

Nile huffed. "I showered four hours ago." Yassen kept glaring at him. "Not all of us are allergic to human contact. I promise you won't get acne unless it's skin-to-skin."

Yassen replied. "Six. Inches."

Nile sighed. "Fine. Fine. Die a virgin if you want."

Nile found himself being choked up against the chair. "For one, Nile, I have had sex. I just prefer to keep a professional distance."

Nile was released and the chair dropped back down. "For another, I have a modicum of taste and you are most certainly substandard."

Nile felt his mouth drop open. "Now, since I doubt I will ever hear the end of your whining if I do not, I will now commence with the texting."

Nile looked like he would dearly like to protest being called substandard, but thought the better of it and shut up.

-A

Explain everything. Now.

-C

Nile just looked at him. "Wow, you're rude. I'm shocked he texts you back."

Yassen narrowed an eye in Nile's direction. Nile gulped.

-C

Ian fucked up. I made a deal with Antonio. I'll be back for my international exchange program. I really want to do it, but I can't live in that house anymore.

-A

Nile inched closer to the screen. Yassen smacked him once he got closer than six inches. "Ow."

Yassen's face didn't have an ounce of sympathy.

-A

Alex, what did Ian do?

-C

Nile made a whimpering noise as they waited for the reply text to come in. "C'mon, c'mon, spill the goddamn gossip."

Yassen agreed with the man, but would never admit it.

-C

He...genetically modified me without permission. It's not reversible. It hurt pretty bad during, but I'm fine now. I just...can't anymore. I'm going to do my own thing for a bit, now.

-A

"HE DID WHAT?!"

Yassen clamped a hand over Nile's mouth again. "Shh. No reason to alert the entire building."

Nile bit Yassen. "You had better be up to date with your rabies shots."

Nile scowled. "This is serious, Yassen. I'm going to kill that motherfucker."

-A

Understandable, but was all the other havoc-wreaking necessary?

-C

Nile glared at him. "You're a soulless gremlin who sucks the fun out of everything, aren't you?"

Yassen didn't grace that with a response.

-C

Yes, yes it was. The others were dangerous, you know. Also, I refuse to work with the Grimaldi Twins or Razim. They're gross. Tom really wanted that shield from the Louvre and I didn't harm a hair on Alan Blunt's creepy-ass head, pinky promise.

-A

Nile, naturally, sniggered at Alex's blasé replies to everything. This was great. Yassen swatted him and sent a shockingly snarky reply.

-A

Such honesty. I'm surprised at you. You usually launch straight into denial-land for the first two texts.

-C

"Huh, so that's Pierre, right?"

Yassen sighed loudly. He was already regretting allowing Nile to be a spectator. "Yes. I will kill you if you mention it again."

Nile huffed. "Idle thre-"

Nile had a knife pressed against his carotid. "I don't make idle threats, Nile."

Nile sighed and leaned back into the couch.

-C

I've decided to be less like Ian. Later.

-A

Nile huffed. "God, you're both so rude to each other. I know you both know poshy things and how to use a fish fork."

Yassen shrugged. "We prefer honesty to courtesy."

Nile groaned softly.

-A

Good night, then.

-C

Nile squawked. "Good night?! Good night?! How come I don't get a good night?!"

Yassen whacked him. "Because, Alex, unlike you, is twelve."

Nile huffed. "Fuck you, Gregorovich."

Yassen concealed his huffing laugh until after Nile stormed out and slammed the door.

Ian Rider was in the elevator. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Internal Affairs was here. Bastards. Once upon a time, nobody would have been sent and it would have been handled internally. The doors opened to the fourteenth floor. Ian stepped into Alan - no, Tulip's office. Ian restrained a groan when he saw the usual goons from MI5. At least it was people they could blackmail. Ian had certainly shot enough people for them. "We've come to ask you some routine questions."

Ian sighed. "What do you want to know?"

The pair of suits that he couldn't remember the names of for the life of him (people under deputy director rarely lasted long enough for him to bother, these days). "Can you give us a rundown of where you've been in that last two weeks?"

Ian pulled out his daily planner. It was accurate, minus a few details. "This should suffice for your purposes."

Jones also had a stack of papers. "Here's mine."

Ian was sure it would show that they were both up to their usual antics. "Who do you think caused the death of Alan Blunt?"

It was the moment of truth. Ian looked the man dead in the eyes. "Quite honestly, I think it was SCORPIA."

The suit raised an eyebrow. "Really? What makes you say that?"

Ian shrugged. "For one, the lab results suggest a poison identical to the one used by Julia Rothman. Plus, this is their style. No real suspects. No precise time frame. It's like a damn ghost did it."

The suit paused for a minute. "We will take that under advisement, Agent Rider."

Ian mentally sighed in relief while keeping his expression the same. "Interim Director Jones, do you share Agent Rider's opinion?"

Jones gave the man her best stony expression. "I do."

The suit nodded. "We'll probably start there as soon as your stories are confirmed."

The two of them headed out of Tulip's office. Ian grinned as the door slammed shut. He couldn't resist giving Tulip a jibe. "So, do you want to have celebratory sex on your desk?"

Ian felt a rolled-up newspaper connect with his face. "No! Get out of my office!"

Ian laughed his ass off and then straightened his face before exiting the office.

Nile Griffen was shaking after he closed the door to his room. It was the adrenaline, he supposed. Yassenhad just chokedhim and pulled a knife. His breathing picked up the pace. Goddamn it. He thought the petty little mind games and the constant weapon waving were done when Julia Rothman "mysteriously" succumbed to a "random" sniper. Then again, he wasn't able to function without Mrs. Rothman. Working for Chase was strange. He got sent to the shrinks a lot. Chase didn't seem to understand. Didn't he want death and destruction? Should he kill more people? Nile's thoughts switched back to Yassen. Yassen was simpler to deal with. He gave very clear instructions. And absolutely no praise. It was almost like working for Rothman again, except without the very confusing sex. Nile sighed. That was probably a plus in this case. He wasn't really into dudes. Sure, Yassen might be described mentally as pretty (although nobody who wanted to live would say that out loud), he still wasn't a woman. Nile was decently sure that Yassen was straight, although nobody who wanted to live would ask him that, either. He sat in his chair trying to catch his bearings. This was what he was used to. Getting called useless and threatened with death. The mad obsession with John Rider and his progeny. Nile groaned. It was simpler when Rothman was alive. At least she hadn't given him that many hugely open-ended assignments. It was usually going to a place and murder these dudes. Hell, on the good days, she'd even done the equipment paperwork. Logistics seemed to hate him, for some reason. I mean, sure, he never really did his paperwork right, but he wasn't that bad. At any rate, Nile was beginning to suspect Yassen was going to be running their little triad when Alex finally joined them. He was planning the kidnapping for after Alex's exchange program since fucking Amanda had to get Chaseinvolved. Nile felt like his boss would murder him if he interfered with that little mess. Plus, Alex seemed to want to do it and Nile figured he might be a little less inclined to escape if he was getting kidnapped from his asshole relatives rather than the exchange program he wanted to be a part of. Nile took a deep breath again. He had forgotten how unpleasant working with Yassen was. The man was a motherfucking monster. He had Nile terrified of him. And nobody could blame Nile for that. Even the board was very careful in their dealings with Cossack. Nile heard rumors, very unsavory rumors, pretty much all the time. D'Arc seemed to love him, although Ross would readily admit the man was an antisocial whack job. Nile felt a faint stab of guilt when he realized he'd be subjecting Alex, at the ripe age of fourteen, to that man. Oh, well. Alex would probably live, right? Yassen seemed to like him (if it could be called liking him) and was really, really smart. Nile has stolen his assessment tests from the previous year. The results were fantastic. Nile wondered how being a genius assassin might look and then shuddered at the mental image. Alex was going to be fine. Nile wondered whether their plans would change now that Alex had run off and joined up with a South American cartel. Seriously, he could have a place in SCORPIA right now and he picked fucking Antonio. Nile was a little bit bitter. Just a little bit. The cartel was large enough that he and Yassen were not going to risk war with them. Even SCORPIA had limits on the pissing contests and that was one of them. Nile sighed. It would have been easier if he had found a newer, smaller one. That was probably the point, though. Alex had to have figured they were plotting something by now and had gone from MI6 protection to cartel protection. Nile wondered what exactly the kid was up to. There had to be some point in running away to Mexico and then not telling anyone his plans. Nile just wished he knew what.

Yassen sighed as Nile left. He felt far more contempt than he really should have. Nile was an idiot. Then again, the man was what? Twenty-two? Yassen supposed some of it could be youth. Then again, he'd been far better with these two little things called discretionand secrecyat that age. Fucking Nile had almost blown their whole operation. Yassen didn't regret choking him at all. He'd vaguely considered just killing Nile on the spot, but had decided risking the board's wrath was not something he wanted to do. Yassen cursed whatever god had decided that Nile would be smart enough to figure out Alex was Alec, but not smart enough to check for cameras before blabbing about sensitive topics in the heart of SCORPIA. Besides, tormenting Nile was kind of a hobby at this point. He'd probably have to lay off once he was past his prime, but for now, he could take Nile in a fight and win. Yassen drummed his fingers. Alex was probably about to do something monumentally stupid, but it wasn't like he was within their reach. Antonio's cartel was just large enough that the board would be pissed about a gang war. Yassen sighed and vaguely wondered if Chase would buy Nile having an unfortunate accident. Probably not. He was the suspicious type and there was only so much even he could get away with. Doing in a board member's second in command was, tragically, not on that list. He'd be the first suspect, due to the recent drama, as well. Cossack almost hissed but refrained from doing so. He was still tempted to betray Nile to the CIA. The man would make such a great bargaining chip, though. Yassen knew he shouldn't waste it on being petty, but was sorely tempted to do so anyway. Alex has crazy relatives. It would be so easy to drop an anonymous tip. And such a shame when Ian Rider accidentally hacked Nile to pieces mid-transit. Cossack let out another breath. It was not to be, unfortunately. He was in the compromising position of having murdered Julia Rothman, which was thin ice anyway. Not to mention the Grimaldi Twins and the whole John Rider connection. Kurst was probably already quietly gunning for him. Perhaps something to consider? Maybe Alex had information on the man and his home base. Yassen only knew the vague location of it. Digging around about that stuff was not tolerated. Cossack vaguely wondered whether he could convince Chase and Dr. Three to permit him to gun down Kurst. Especially given the recent events and the succession BS the man had tried to pull. Yassen knew they weren't happy about it. Chase has been seething for at least three days if Nile's bitching was anything to go by. Maybe. He'd best get the info from Alex, though. It never hurt to check your incredibly shady sources once in a while. Plus, Alex had a vendetta against the board. Yassen resisted a sigh. It was time for him to go back to his usual study schedule. He'd email his sources in Mexico later. Surely some of them could tell him a bit more about Antonio.

Alex grinned as he read Jet's reply to his email. Apparently, she'd liked Professor Emerys' style. Jet was quite funny when she wanted to be and the plant joke flirting was great. At least, he hoped she was joking. He'd done his best to sound about eighty. Jet had helpfully run full tests on his samples, too. His plant would grow into a glow-in-the-dark blooming vine where the glow would be activated by touching the plant. Jet seemed genuinely excited for a research assignment of any kind. Alex almost felt bad for her. Sure, she taught poisons at assassin school, but at the same time, she had a doctorate in botany. Alex was sure that she'd once hoped to be a doctor researching at a real university or lab. Instead, she'd somehow ended up at Malagasto. Alex remembered that she'd been nicknamed "The Potions Witch". Jet probably hated that nickname as much as he'd hated being called Cub. Alex scrolled through the lab results again. Thankfully, all his plants in the lab were set on automatic water and fertilizer for the next five or so years. He couldn't do much about flowers and seeds, but maybe Tom and Ian could take care of his plants. Alex had left Tom the paper copy of the plant care instructions. Tom. Man, he was putting his best friend through a lot, again. Alex groaned. He didn't deserve Tom. Alex stared at the computer as Jet almost instantly replied to his notes. What time was it in Italy, anyway? Alex mentally counted forward. It had to be about two in the morning, her time. What was she doing up at that hour? Alex hastened to reply to Jet, sending her a few building tips along with the rather unique hydraulic designs that would create some hydroponics that went up to two stories high. As far as he knew, Jet did not participate in night exercises. She was exempt, being a teacher, and all. Was Jet up just for Emerys, an eighty-year-old man on the other side of the world? Alex sighed. Well, there went the "occasional professional correspondence" plan. Jet seemed to want to be online friends. Alex injected enough sexism to keep it interesting. Telling her she shouldn't go near steel bolts with those delicate feminine hands. She retorted with comments about metal-working at his advanced age. It was a fun little deal. Alex tried not to be too obnoxious, but he also had to keep up the facade of being an old white dude. Which meant benevolent sexism at best. Alex was aiming for light teasing. They ended up with quite the email log since Jet ended up on a tangent after Alex brought up that some poisons could be diluted into medicine. Alex felt a little guilty when he realized she'd stayed on for nearly three hours. Alex gracefully made his excuses (hey, old dudes had health problems and early bedtimes) and then logged off to do his nightly exercise.

Eijit Binnag rubbed her eyes and noticed it was 5 a.m. local time. Perfect. She could eat breakfast and then nap before getting ready for class. Professor Emerys was great, even if he was a sexist old fart. Jet knew some of it was light teasing since he'd given her both the designs and the complete instructions. Gordon walked in and immediately noticed her lack of sleep. "Late night, Jet?"

Jet barely concealed her flush. "Shut up, Gordon!"

Jet pulled up said Professor's emails in an attempt to distract herself from the urge to poison Gordon's tea. Gordon, ever the gossip whore, read over her shoulder. "He sounds about eighty, Jet."

Jet narrowed her eyes at him. "Is there a point you're getting to?"

Gordon, turning his voice to resemble an old man's, replied. "Oh, Jet. I have erectile dysfunction, but you can have sex with my newly discovered tree."

Jet inhaled, glanced around the cafeteria to check for their bosses, and, seeing no executive board members, promptly whacked Gordon upside the head with her breakfast tray. Gordon didn't even respond, his eyes dancing merrily with amusement. "Why, Gordon, is that your way of telling me you want plant derivatives for a certain male problem?"

Gordon huffed. "It works just fine. You want a demonstration?"

Jet narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you have a doctorate in botany?"

Gordon rolled his eyes. "No, but I might as well since I haven't gotten laid in ages."

Jet whacked him again with her breakfast tray. "I have standards and insane, trigger-happy redheads don't meet them."

Gordon pouted. "Oh, Jet, you'll see."

Jet rolled her eyes. "No, I won't."

D'Arc walked in looking amused. "Am I interrupting something?"

The teachers answered in unison. "No!"

D'Arc's lips twitched. "Very well, we'll need to discuss the graduation tests for the students in these files."

Notes: Yes, Alex is still going to Russia. It will be in the year that he is 13-14 years old (physically), however. For now, 12-13 (physically, at least) years old will have a very important (and exceedingly pre-planned) character arc with several key characters and character development for Alex. The experiences he faces in South America will be important to his relationship with Sarov, which is why this arc comes first.