Chapter 72: Dinner and Death Threats

The dinner went about as well as he expected. Which meant that it was so tense that Alex was sorely tempted to gun down half of the attendees. Very tempted. He was starting to see why Yassen had his murder addiction. It had started eerily quiet. Alex had sat down at the table. Antonio had been eyeing the four new adults dubiously. Alex honestly didn't blame them. "So, this is my uncle-"

Antonio whipped out a knife faster than Alex had ever seen anyone draw. "Not Ian! Darian!"

Antonio fixed Darian with a look that could melt steel and set the knife down by his plate. "And these are some nice consultants Lance found. Something about military training."

Lance had, thankfully, taken over from there. The SCORPIA agents were eyeing him the entire time. Alex remembered that Ian was famous for murdering a shitload of Malagasto assassins. Not to mention the fact that he was a dead ringer for John Rider and had an uncle named Ian. Fuck. Well, if they hadn't known before, they did now. Alex spent the good part of three hours trying to filter through the sniping for information. It was enough to make him want to down enough scotch to kill his current pint-sized body. Lance began directing the vitriol straight at Darian. Alex watched as the Malagasto assassins oscillated between fanning the flames and poking the other adults. They were poking and twisting for every advantage. He watched as the fire in the center of the table began to die. After the dinner was finally, finally over Alex tried very hard not to groan as the three assassins followed him back to his room. He inhaled and felt his jaw beginning to ache. "What do you want?"

One of the men, Gary, leaned into a pillar. He wasn't fooled for a second, thank you very much. Alex let his hand wander to the most obvious of the knives he was carrying just as casually. "Well, we knew your father."

Alex wondered if the man's legacy would ever quit haunting him. Probably not. "Yeah? Aren't you a bit young for that?"

That seemed to amuse the man more than anything else. Gary snorted. "Gregorovich wasn't the only teen who ever went to Malagasto, just the most obvious one."

Alex squinted. "You would have been, what, eighteen, nineteen?"

Gary grinned. "You're fairly slick, for a kid. Then again, you did just con a CIA regional director, so I'm not shocked."

Alex felt his lips twitch. "Fishing for extra information already? Have you even finished unpacking yet?"

Gary scoffed. "Of course not! I'm living out of my suitcase and reusing my underwear four times now that Yermalov's not around to stop me!"

Alex arched a brow as one of his companions elbowed him. "Yermalov?"

Gary squawked as an elbow connected with his kidney. "Oh, c'mon, odds are he'll meet the snaky old fart eventually."

Alex slinked off as the three began bickering and barely kept his laughter in until he shut the door to his room.

Winston Yu was delighted that Alex had accepted his 'gift'. Not that the lovely young British man had much of a choice. The three operatives didn't have much to say but had reported that "Xander" had successfully manipulated them into a bickering match or two. Well, they hadn't quite put it like that, but their reports had indicated as much. Really now. They should be more on guard for that sort of thing, especially after the whole working with the Russians to betray the CIA debacle. Yes, he was thirteen, and, yes, he was kind of cute, especially given the fact that he was a mass murderer, but that was no excuse to let down their guard around him. Alex was a truly fascinating specimen, especially since he seemed unbothered by conventional morality. Yu wondered what had driven this little spat. It was gloriously bloody and he enjoyed watching an intelligence agency lose for once, but he wanted the details. Details that the child was being tight-lipped about. Winston was quite certain that whatever he said on television was carefully rehearsed and edited by more than a few political advisors. As much as Tom Card had amassed on the child's abilities, there was very little about his mental state in the file. Unfortunately, Ian Rider had proven obstinate in tearing their assassins to pieces and neither Crawley nor Jones was any more likely to fork the information over. Belinda Mordant was currently untouchable and Joe Byrne had proven to be uncooperative in this one instance. For some reason, he was hell-bent on preventing Alex from meeting any more of them. Why, he had already met several key figures in intelligence and Joe was just being stingy. Perhaps Joe had sent him there in the first place? It wasn't like that branch of the CIA hadn't been particularly rife with corruption. There was also the fact that Alex and Charles seemed to already have a history together. Charles had taken the boy to Japan and then gone on the run due to kidnapping charges (not that Winston blamed him, he was sure Ian was a dreadful guardian). Not much could be found outside of rumors and exaggerated tales, which was unfortunate. There was the matter of Charles to consider as well, but Winston had a sinking suspicion that wherever Alex went, Charles would follow. Wouldn't that be lovely? Two brand new operatives for the price of one. Winston wondered if Alex would protest too much. Oh, well, there were always less gentle techniques. Then again, given that this was Alex "I will poison my political rivals with a taunting toast" Rider, he personally doubted that too much tweaking would be needed. Maybe in around two to three years, he would finally have an operative worthy of the title second-in-command. Until then, he could wait, he supposed. Let Alex come to him. There was no need to rush the relationship and these things could be delicate.

Antonio was suspicious. He was going to need to talk to Alejandro about their new interlopers. Sure, they were professionals, but their appearance was very convenient. "Alejandro, we need to talk about your new 'private consultants'."

The child grimaced. "Yes? What did they do?"

Antonio sighed. "It's not what they did. It's what they might do."

Alejandro groaned. "It was a little too convenient, but we do kind of need them right now. Besides, I trust Lance to vouch for people."

Antonio sighed. "They are on Interpol's Most Wanted list."

Alejandro's lips twitched. "So was I, up until a month or two ago."

Antonio sighed. "Your connections are convenient, but they worry me. This is a good way to get in a lot of trouble that even I cannot fish you out of."

Alejandro rubbed his forehead at that. Antonio knew for a fact that he was overworked. "Antonio, you knew for a fact that it was going to be like this."

Antonio rose. "Yes, but that does not mean it does not concern me. I care about you, Alejandro. I just want to make sure we both come out of this on top."

Alejandro seemed to deflate a bit. "I know. I do. We should probably ask how much they're being paid."

Antonio rolled his eyes. "Mercenaries. So crass."

Alejandro's lips twitched. "These are polite, don't worry."

Antonio huffed. "I would like to state for the record that this is a bad idea."

Alejandro gave him a wry look. "I know."

Antonio watched as Alejandro left. He couldn't shake the feeling that things were going to go sour eventually.

Darian sighed as he looked at the SCORPIA operatives and then the people he was supposed to be training. This was going to be fun. Not. "How many of you speak English?" Darian was surprised at the number of people who raised their hands. Still not a hundred percent yet. "Alright, then. Spanish it is."

Darian glanced at the three assassins. Political advisors, his hairy ass. Patrick was getting an email about this the second his day was over. Then again, Patrick probably wouldn't be all that surprised. Darian sighed as they started with the initial drills. Sure, most of the cartel members were ex-military, but the point here was cohesion. It was meant to be a fighting force, not a group of assassins. Plus, it had probably been quite a while since they drilled as an army. The three "not-assassins" approached him at lunch break. "So, you're his uncle."

Darian rolled his eyes. These people were fishing. "Yep."

The woman pouted at him. He mentally sighed. That might have worked if he was actually in his early twenties like he appeared. Darian, at nearly forty years of age, was mostly just tired. Sure, he could live to two hundred and was still considered fairly young, but he wasn't stupid. "What do you do for fun?"

Darian felt his eye twitch. This reminded him way too much of his sister to be remotely appealing, even if he wasn't gay. "Read."

The woman, thankfully, seemed to be giving up on the flirty approach. "What did you do before all of this?"

Darian shrugged. "I was in the army."

The three exchanged a glance. "Which one?"

Darian rubbed absently at his temples. "Israeli."

Darian mentally eye-rolled at their startled looks. Yes, he was well aware of his skin color. He'd been accused of being a spy for it more than once. Marion had, of course, gotten their father's pasty ass skin. Because life liked to fuck him over, that was why. "So, uh, how did you end up here?"

It was fairly decent as far as recoveries went, though it didn't stop the cynical snort in his head. "Xander called and I answered."

The three just looked at each other. "Well, aren't you a social ball of sunshine?"

Darian's lips peeled back in an almost feral smirk. "That's more the kid's job, now isn't it?"

The woman tossed her hair with a knowing smirk. "Are you two even actually related?"

That comment stung far more than he ever would admit. It was the same every damn time. None of the fucking white parts of the family had this goddamn issue. Darian grit his teeth and resisted his urge to punch the woman in the face. "I'm his maternal uncle."

The woman looked at him. "Well, it's fortunate that he got his father's looks, now isn't it?"

Darian inhaled a mildly shocked breath at the casual racism. It was fortunate that Alex picked the moment to enter because otherwise, a certain coworker might have been missing a few teeth. "How's it going?"

Darian didn't have the heart to tell his nephew's sparkling brown eyes what was going on. "Not too bad. Fortunately, Antonio grabbed most of the people with military training. Do we know how Card's planning to respond?"

Darian got through the rest of the day on autopilot. Goddamn it. He hated doing this.

Alex looked up from the papers in his tactical room and groaned out loud. He needed a map. And more sleep. And less stabby, stabby politics. He knew for a fact that the SCORPIA agents were giving Darian a hard time, but they seemed to be successfully doing it behind his back. His uncle wasn't looking all that great, but Alex was unsure of what they were saying to him and how to help the man otherwise. Alex wasn't sure if they had done it to be petty, to isolate him, or because they'd decided that there was some sort of personal issue that they were going to take with him, but instead targeting his relatives. SCORPIA was a bunch of stabby motherfuckers. He'd almost forgotten how much of a pain in the ass they were when you weren't directly being backed by an executive board member. He almost missed Doctor Three being in charge of his life. Almost. Darian came in and sat down next to him. "Doing alright?"

Alex shrugged and offered the man his hand. "For now."

Darian snorted. "So, what I'm hearing is a resounding no."

Alex rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, you paranoid twat."

Darian grinned. "Mhm. If you say so."

Alex sighed. "What is the deal with you and those three?"

Darian shrugged. "Ah, the usual, questioning whether we're related, telling me it's fortunate you look so much like John. You know, generally being petty assholes."

Alex arched a brow. "They said that?"

Darian shrugged. "Happens all the time, kid. Besides, they're trying to get a rise out of me and I'm not biting."

Alex sighed. "That's just wrong."

Darian gave a half-shrug. "I'm used to it."

Alex gave him the stink eye. "You should tell me these things."

Darian shook his head. "Like it or not, they're dead useful. I'll put up with their crap for your sake, but don't expect me to cry at their funerals."

Alex felt a headache coming on. "Understandable."

Tom Card felt the familiar ache in his chest. There were so many...dead. The images of the blown-up bases pulled at his mind. He inhaled. They still didn't have the official counts yet, due to the sheer number of bases that were annihilated. Also, the fact that there were stories worth of rubble wasn't exactly helping. In the end, Card wasn't quite sure where he'd gone wrong. He had trusted the people in his life that he should have but, in the end, he had been betrayed by a child. He was quite torn by the turn of events because he had to admit that what he had been doing was morally wrong, but, surely, Alex could see that it had been for the greater good. Tom picked up the phone. He thought about calling his wife but then he remembered that he was divorced. He thought about calling his children but then he remembered that they did not wish to speak with him. He considered calling Joe Byrne but the man had made it very clear that he disapproved of Card's entire program. He wasn't quite sure where it all went to shit. Alex Rider. It was a name he would remember forever. It was a name he would remember, even after he died. He wasn't even sure that he would forget it, even if he were born into the next life. He had once been a revered regional director for CIA Black Ops. Now all he had was revenge. Revenge and counting the bodies, and battle and blood. Card vaguely wondered whether anyone would bother to attend his funeral. Tom Card took a deep breath. It was a small consolation that they had one spy left in the ranks, though they were unsure of how trustworthy the spy was. It was interesting that now he and Alex had their positions reversed. It would take far longer than Card had left in his life to rebuild the bases and information networks that they had lost. In the end, he was not quite sure what he was fighting for any longer. It wasn't like they had very many morals left. They had broken nearly every convention of the United Nations. Like it or not, the assassin program had been employing and creating child soldiers. Yet another death report filed on his computer. Card looked up at the sky. The night was as black as his mourning suit. Card wondered whether even his protegees would answer his calls now that he was considered a failure by the agency that had once commended him. Technically, it was against protocol to even keep him in the field, but they had never exactly followed the rules in his case, so why would they start now? Well, there was only one way to find out. Card picked his phone back up and prayed silently as he dialed the first number.

Alexei Sarov looked through the reports that Russian Intelligence sent him. Alexander was doing surprisingly well. Sarov sighed. This was going to be bloody either way, but he hoped that his assistance would be enough to allow Alexander to achieve his goals. The President was chortling as he entered Sarov's private office. He made a point of working from there, even though he was technically retired and no longer got inspected for whether or not he followed security protocols. "Have you seen him in the news?"

Sarov wondered how this man's advisors didn't spend their days rolling their eyes. It was probably the vodka. "Ah, yes. He presents such a lovely knight in shining armor, doesn't he?"

The man gave him a knowing look. "It helps that he looks like your son, doesn't it?"

Sarov sniffed. "He's perfectly qualified to be in the exchange program."

The President looked amused. "Certainly. Especially given that you entrusted him with military technology."

Sarov raised an eyebrow. "It was safely returned without complications."

The man coughed awkwardly. "One would hope."

Sarov paused as the man lingered in his house. "Are you sure that having him here, in this country, is a good idea?"

Sarov looked at the man. "Is it the safest? No. But keep in mind that right now he is a man without a country, even if he does retain his citizenship currently. He has already toppled a portion of the CIA. I think I can handle him well enough."

The President paused. "He does look so much like your son."

Sarov gave the man a look. He gulped. "Perhaps, but he reminds me more of myself and less of Vladimir."

The President sighed. "Sometimes I wonder why you leave me in power."

Sarov was amused. "Don't get jealous. Besides, I am a very private man, and being the President of Russia would preclude me from being so."

The man pursed his lips. "Should we get you another wife?"

Something in Sarov twisted at the preposition. He found the idea of women and marriage repulsive on a visceral level. The only good thing to come out of his last one was his son. Then again, it wasn't like he liked the idea of men any better. "I do not think it wise in my position. I am too old for another wife, to be frank."

The President looked at him in askance. "There is no such thing for a man."

Sarov internally rolled his eyes. The girls the man had in mind were probably the spoiled daughters of his fellow barons. Sarov had a feeling that he would like them even less than his first wife. Besides, they were closer to Alex's age than his own and he found that idea revolting. "Yes, there is. Good day, President."

The man, thankfully, left him to his work.

Ian Rider simply watched as the reports rolled in. His one consolation was that Alex looked alive and healthy. Then again, makeup could hide a lot. Ian was fairly certain Alex was fine, though, because of how he spoke. Ian had never closely watched his nephew when he gave speeches or public debates, but the burning fire in his gaze was probably new. He looked so alive and so young. Ian almost felt guilty. Alex had never seemed very passionate about much of anything at home. Perhaps he had been wrong to discourage him from some of his more...niche interests. Tom had been glued to the television every single time. Ian was pretty sure that even he and Jack didn't watch that hard when Alex came on the television. In fact, Ian was pretty sure Tom watched more closely than any of the analysts. Crawley chuckled lightly. "Ah, young love."

Ian arched a brow at the man. "Excuse me?"

Crawley rolled his eyes. "Tom's in looove with Alex."

Tom gave off no indication of hearing either of them. It was an evening re-run of one of Alex's speeches. Ian rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it'll pass in time."

Crawley grinned. "Uh, huh. Sure. Because people bring each other to Paris and steal art from the Louvre for all their platonic friends."

Ian glared at the man. "John."

Crawley looked like the cat that got the canary. "Yes, Ian?"

Ian rolled his eyes. "You're impossible."

Crawley's grin turned into a full-on smirk. "Impossibly good at being your boyfriend. Now, shoo and go finish your paperwork."

Ian grumbled some vaguely threatening before giving him a goo-goo-eyed look. "John."

John sighed. He knew where this was going. "Yes, Ian?"

Ian was giving him an innocent look. "If, say, I haven't even started the newest write-up, would you help me finish?"

John narrowed his eyes. "Ian-"

Ian was giving him a very attractive pleading look. "Pretty please."

Crawley inhaled. He really should just abandon Ian to all the damn paperwork he procrastinated on. It would serve him right. "I should leave you to it, I really should."

Ian's eyes somehow got wider. "Pleeeease."

Crawley felt all resistance crumble. Goddamn it, Ian. "Fine."

Ian swished upstairs. Tom was still zoned into Mini giving a speech. He got Starbright barely suppressing her laughter. Crawley rubbed his eyes. Why was it always the walking disasters he was attracted to? Starbright smirked as he passed her. "Enjoy your paperwork."

Crawley did the very mature thing of not flipping her off. It took more adult points of the day than he would ever admit. Ian greeting him at the office door with sparkling brown eyes made it all worth it, though.

Several long, bloody, and frustrating months had passed. Alex rubbed his eyes as he sat down to a meeting with adults. Trying to take down the CIA was a bit like playing whack a mole. When you knocked out one base, another popped up. Well, it was less that the actual building took place and more that they acquired a new building. "It's taking too long."

The adults eyed him oddly. "You do know that these things can go on for years, right?"

Alex felt snippy but refrained from his more acidic remarks. "Yes, however, Afghanistan is hardly what I want the country to look like in terms of global examples."

One of the SCORPIA operatives perked up. "What if we took out Card?"

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. Take him out when you get the chance or else you'll suffer. Yes, thank you, Grim. Darian spoke up before he did. "That does have merit. If we kill someone the senators in charge know, they might back off."

Alex rubbed his forehead. "It also might make things worse, if they spin it. Besides, we don't know where he is at the moment."

One of the SCORPIA perked up. "How do we find out?"

Alex huffed. "I'm thoroughly burned in that area, I'm afraid."

The adults rolled their eyes. "Yeah, but we're not. We can send other people to sniff around."

Alex rubbed his temples. It wasn't like he'd run a proper war-war before. "I want him alive."

It was the SCORPIA operatives who spoke up first. "Why?"

Alex sighed. "Political reasons. We look better if he gets tried in a court as opposed to mysteriously vanishing."

The man sat down. "That's fair, but I still think he should kick the bucket."

Alex snorted out loud this time. "You would."

The woman tried. "Are you sure this isn't personal?"

He retorted. "Are you sure this isn't personal?"

Alex had wheedled a good deal of the SCORPIA's operatives' personal histories out of them. Unsurprisingly, none of them were huge fans of the CIA. "Fair enough."

Alex drummed his fingers. "We could try baiting him."

The adults all looked at him. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

Alex felt a rather feral grin cross his face. "Oh, nothing much, just some murder, arson, and corpse desecration. The usual."

Darian, Antonio, and Larry were giving him looks that suggested he was going to be doing extra therapy hours until his brain came trickling out of his nose. The SCORPIA operatives instantly perked up. Alex had a sinking suspicion that they'd particularly enjoy his new plans. "So, when do we start?"

Alex wondered if madly cackling would land him in more therapy hours. Probably. "Oh, no time like the present. Remember, we want to specifically target the moral, as well as important figures to Card. I think we'll start with his proteges."

They began quickly discussing ideas.

Card sighed as he got yet another phone call from an angry senator on the Senate Defense Committee. They seemed to throw out a lot of those. "HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEWS?!"

Card held the phone away from his face. His eardrums didn't need any more damage, thank you very much. He was already suffering from tinnitus from his time in the field. Card sighed. "Not this morning. Do you know what the local time is?"

The senator was particularly irate. "I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK, TURN IT ON!"

Card flipped the television on, figuring the faster he indulged the senator, the faster he could go back to sleep. "...found this morning atop a local church. The motives of the killer are unclear, but it's clear that he didn't hold his victim or the body in high regard…"

Card tuned out the rest of the broadcast in favor of staring at the body on the screen in horror. It was the first man he had ever mentored. The position of the body was...graphic. Card was very sure he didn't want to know how the limbs were twisted into that particular position. There was something vaguely familiar about the whole scene, but Card couldn't put his finger on it. "ARE YOU AWAKE NOW?!"

Card made a mental note to have that senator have an unfortunate and nonlethal accident sometime shortly. Perhaps a broken ankle? Those were always terribly unfortunate. "Oh, yes, I am. I'll get right on it."

Card tried and failed to keep a note of sarcasm out of his voice. Fortunately, the overstuffed sausage didn't notice. "You need to get a handle on that entire situation."

Card restrained a snappier retort. "No, shit. You think I haven't been trying?"

The senator was apparently in a real mood. "How hard is it to kill a twelve-year-old child?"

Card pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's thirteen and protected by SCORPIA's finest, Senator. Not to mention the army and giant fort he lives in."

The man cut in. "Don't they work for us?"

Card rubbed his eyes. Where had that idiot gotten the idea from? "They work for the US dollar, sir."

The senator scoffed. "Mercenaries, bah, back in my day…" Card tuned him out and started messaging some of his people. There were more important things to do than listen to politicians blathering. Card resisted the urge to point out that back in his day, they paid their top operatives more than peanuts. SCORPIA tended to snap up anyone really good, either with raises or by force. He had a sinking suspicion that if the Russians didn't get to Xander, then SCORPIA would be more than happy to take advantage of that little oversight. "You are tracking him down, right?"

The senator cut through his musings. "Of course, sir."

The man seemed to finally be done. "I'll let you get to it, then."

Click. Card rubbed his eyes. It was looking like a triple espresso day.

Alex rubbed his eyes. The news had, thankfully, not picked up on the fact that he'd set a bunch of SCORPIA operatives relatively loose on his enemies. Then again, they had been trying to pin it on random serial killers for the general public. There was always bad publicity involved with meddling with corpses. He decided to sleep in for a few hours, just because there wasn't anything urgent. When he woke up, there were a bunch of SCORPIA operatives staring at him. "You know, watching a thirteen-year-old sleep is probably not the best hobby to have around here."

They looked fairly amused. "So, how'd we do?"

Alex wondered if all SCORPIA operatives were praise starved or he just ran into the unlucky ones. "Pretty good, for a start." One of the men, Justin, plopped himself into Alex's desk chair. He got out of bed and smacked him lightly with the newspaper. "The audacity."

The man grinned. "You Brits do snobby well."

Alex huffed. "It's the accent."

Justin tilted back in his desk chair. "And the former empire, I'm sure."

Alex waited until the man tilted back so far that the chair toppled over. It had a lower tolerance for tilt than most chairs. "Serves you right."

The man scowled, but his lips were twitching. "Brat."

Alex sniffed. "Deviant."

The man sighed. "Shouldn't you get dressed?"

Alex laughed. "That was the plan."

The three scooted out shortly after. Alex wondered what the hell that was about. Probably some sort of cracked-up test designed by Steiner. Lovely. Welp, it was time for brunch. Hopefully sans SCORPIA operatives.

The second dead protege of his was less of a surprise. Card had figured out that they were specifically targeting him and people related to him in a professional sense. His family, as far as he was aware, was untouched. Card was relieved that they left his children out of this. The kidnapping scare of their youth had probably not improved their relationship. The senator had delegated the job of calling him to one of his aides after an unexpected slip left him with a cracked hip and tailbone. What a shame that was. Card was honestly just tired. First, it was Luke, then it was John. He hoped that he had warned Matt and Mark in time. They were good men and had fairly formidable teams on their side. People had come flocking to him in private to let him know that if he was going after Xander Onassis, they wanted in. Card appreciated the sentiment. This was probably going to be a small thing in the field, excluding the analysts. "Morning, sir."

It was one of Luke's people, he was pretty sure. Same ex-military bearing. Same mildly dead inside look. Not that he could talk. He'd spent more time with his trainees than his actual biological children. "Good afternoon." The man flushed. Card resisted a snort. "Can I help you with something?"

The younger man sighed. "Isn't that my line?"

The look he was given was deceptively innocent. Card knew for a fact that this one was out for blood. "Not necessarily. Let me guess, you want a revenge run and you want in."

He shifted in his chair. "Well...yeah. I mean, yes, sir."

Card resisted a snort. "This isn't the military, son. You can call me Card."

The man shifted. "Luke always said you were like his father, except more of a dad."

Card could see the manipulation a mile away. That didn't mean it wasn't effective. "I'm aware."

There was a long awkward pause. Card was content to watch the man squirm. Just because he could go on a vengeance rampage didn't mean he should. Still, there were procedures to be followed. "How about I read you into the investigation for now? We need more information before we go charging headlong into things."

The man seemed excited. "Cool!"

Card chuckled as the man rose out of his office chair. "By the way, kid, if you want to be more than a gopher, you'll need to quit the drinking."

The man turned a deep shade of red. "I can do that."

It came out as barely more than a whisper. Card nodded. "Good. Now, run along. I'll send my secretary to you with the details."

The kid scampered off. Card wondered if he'd made the right decision. Letting vengeful twenty-somethings on missions was not always the best plan. Then again, once upon a time, he'd been a vengeful twenty-year-old.

Alex was amping up his physical training. Allen was certainly happy to make him do as much ballet as he wanted to during the day, so long as he wasn't in tactical meetings (or skipping tactical meetings). Alex was thwacked. "Ow."

The woman's eye twitched. "Focus on the task at hand."

Alex sighed and restarted the exercise. His feet were probably going to bleed. After six grueling hours, he was about ready to drop and was finally let go. Justin was waiting for him in the locker room. "Dude, you're going to start getting a reputation if you keep walking in on me partially dressed."

The man chuckled as Alex, who was pretty much beyond caring about anything but his shower at this point, turned on the water. "Relax, kid. It's just that Grumpy, Grumpier, and Stabby don't let us talk to you alone."

Alex sighed in the shower. "They think you're a bad influence."

Justin huffed indignantly outside his shower. "They're helping you mass murder the CIA and take over South America, that can't say shit."

Alex laughed. "Haven't you heard? Everyone in Black Ops is a complete hypocrite who will wholeheartedly stand by their double standards and completely unreasonable opinions."

Justin cackled. "I like you, kid." Alex pointedly shut the curtain a little farther. "As a friend. Jesus, kid, what is it with you and rape?"

Alex huffed. "I've heard bad things about Black Ops."

The man sighed. "Really?"

Alex snorted. "Also, I'm thirteen. Hormones and all that jazz." Justin huffed. "Close your eyes."

Alex could practically hear the eye roll. "You know, if you want something manlier than ballet, we could always give you lessons."

Alex finished dressing and sat down to check for blisters. "That's nice of you, but I think Nile would murder you."

Justin blanched. "Er, right, I'll leave you two to it, then."

Alex derived more amusement than he should have from watching the man all but run away from him.

Card decided that it was time for him to rejoin the field. Sure, he was past his prime, but this was personal. Besides, it wasn't like Xander was a man in his prime. Card doubted that Xander would target his proteges and then just send a giant kill squad. Sure, it would be the tactical move, but Xander was very much a hands-on type. And, frankly, what kind of thirteen-year-old wouldn't show up for a dramatic showdown? Exactly. Zero. Card had a sinking suspicion that they would keep targeting his proteges until he stomped out to fight. This was personal on both ends and that wasn't even getting into the whole "lived in the secret child assassin academy I ran for nine months and collaborated with SCORPIA and the Russians" bit. Card sighed. This was going to be a long one. They'd lost a shitload of territory. Antonio was good and so were the people Xander brought in. Not to mention, fucking Larry. And Michael. But mostly Larry. Twenty years in the CIA and none of the analysts had predicted this outcome. Then again, "run away with a tween to take over a continent" was probably not on anyone's bingo card, so he couldn't blame the guy. "Sir!"

Card turned around. "Is there a problem?"

The man clasped his hands. "Well, I'm not sure where to start-"

Card interjected. "Just get on with it."

The man sighed. "You might want to sit down."

Card gave the man the evil eye and sat down. The man looked almost pitying. Card knew what was going to come out of the man's mouth before it did. Funeral voices. They were always the same. "Mark is dead."

Card felt something in his chest tear. Mark. The man was shaking as he handed over the file with the pictures. Card took the file. "Get out."

The man started but scurried out. He knew seeing those pictures would only bring him pain. And maybe some clues. The body had been torn up just as gruesomely as Luke and John. The positioning probably meant something to the analysts. He had never really paid mythology much mind. He turned the page. Card's vision blurred as he continued through the file. He wondered if he'd been poisoned for a second before he realized he was crying. The first few sobs came as gasps for breath as he felt the internal walls he'd built up crumble. He nearly choked as his eyes began to stream in earnest. He cried for the sons he'd lost in a political game. He cried for the betrayal that he'd had at the hands of his other colleagues. And he cried about the divorce he'd been suppressing for a while. Thankfully, nobody knocked at his door, because he knew that his crying was the last thing anyone needed to see.

The man known as Justin was on assignment. He was the newbie, so he got all of the bum runs. Kill someone and messily carve up the corpse? His job. Gathering intelligence in the sewers disguised as a homeless person? His job. Try to get "Xander" to open up and not get brutally stabbed? His job. Then again, he'd rather stick with Alexander as his boss than Winston Yu. The kid, while intensely private, was not overtly sadistic. Did the kid have trust issues? Sure, but who didn't. Did he brutally bring up your terrible home life to grind in the shards of your soul while giving you assignments that were going to give you flashbacks? No. Besides, his uncle was hilarious to wind up, as long as Xander didn't catch you doing it. At first, he wondered why the hell they left the kid in charge. As far as he could tell, there were a few reasons. Xander was holding the alliance together. There was no doubt in his mind that if he died, there would be a four-way war. He also made an excellent face for the public to adore. If Justin was honest, Xander was a beautiful (and white) child with blonde hair and brown eyes. He was also an excellent public speaker who could derive a lot of sympathy without looking too young to run anything. Plus, he was overall likable. There were no bad interactions with the troops. The staff had nothing but nice things to say about him. Plus, all of his classmates practically worshipped him. He was pretty sure there was some sort of unofficial shrine dedicated to the kid. The kid arched a brow at him. "You look like you murdered a cow."

Justin glared at him. "How's the cult-starting going?"

Xander smiled at him. It was all teeth. "Splendidly, I think, but you tell me."

Justin half-glared. "If you're going to be like that, you can mutilate your own corpses."

Xander grinned. "Would you like some coffee?"

Justin retorted. "I want a pay raise, but coffee is good, too."

Xander looked amused. "Winston Yu not paying you well enough?"

Justin flipped him off. "You try getting blood out from under fingernails and then we'll talk."

Xander laughed. "Why don't you go shower and then try to argue your point."

Justin pouted. "This was my favorite shirt."

Xander snorted. "You wear the same shirt every day."

Justin perked up. "Exactly. I liked the shirt, so I bought fourteen of them."

Xander arched a brow. "You're making a puddle and the housekeeping staff is already grumpy with you lot."

Justin huffed. "It's not my fault those two like to have sex."

Xander opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by Lance walking into the room. "Xander, it's time for another television speech dry run."

Justin caught the barest hint of a pout as the kid left and considered that a victory.

Tom Card got his shit together after his little crying jag. Nobody had questioned it when he walked out of the office a bit early. It was time to try to save the last of his...proteges. Matt was a stubborn one who insisted that his usual security would do. Card was a little bit more skeptical. Hell no, it wouldn't. So, naturally, he was going to set up a little bit of a guard. The man was several days of travel away, but Card had called up most of his contacts and favors in that area. He just hoped it would be enough until he got there. There were a bunch of volunteers, oddly enough. Card had his pick of both the in-field people and logistics people. He'd also set up a reorganization to integrate Luke, Mark, and John's people with his own. There were likely a few traitors that he'd have to set up traps for later, but, for now, they were tentatively trusting people. They had leaked a shitload of personnel, but it was an overall gain for his people. Didn't sign up for a war, his effing ass. He was going to chase down every single last person who deserted after they won this little skirmish. That would be a fun project. Maybe a few of them would tragically die in transit from accidents and heart attacks. Maybe he was just in a piss poor mood. At any rate, he was going to go with his old set of guards, plus a few people who had trained with them before. It didn't go well to use badly integrated squads for security assignments. "Sir."

Card sighed. Their planes and helicopters had either been stolen or blasted to bits. That left cars. He knew they should have used more than three hangers, but nobody had wanted to fund more than three hangers. "Everyone ready for a road trip?"

The man's lips twitched. "I wouldn't put it like that, but yes."

Card patted the man's shoulder. "It'll be good for them. Consider it a bonding exercise."

The man muttered under his breath. "An exercise in not murdering your squadmates, more like."

Ah, the young ones. So impatient. Not that he could talk. "Don't forget your Dramamine, Agent Garcia."

Card pretended not to hear the man's reply. "Fuck you too, boss."

It was more fun that way. Plus, the disciplinary paperwork was in no way worth it. He missed the good old days where you could fistfight your operatives in the back car lot.