Oh man, you guys were so helpful- thanks so much to Sagebrush, Ren O'neil, BooksLover2000, and all the other reviewers! I'll be able to develop Wolf and Eagle's characters a lot more than I would have because of you guys!
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O-o-O-o-O
If they had thought two days was bad, two goddamn weeks of not knowing what was happening to Cub... what they were doing to him.
A lot could happen in two weeks- and they had barely been able to keep him together during the five days he had spent with them.
But... they had to be patient. They were soldiers, after all.
Wolf, as team leader, had waited for the news of his men- not necessarily in his unit- of surviving the war they all fought.
Fox, as a spy, had waited for the news if he would live another day- there had been too many times of his cover being nearly blown.
Eagle, as a sniper, had waited for the targets to get into position, knowing that hesitation would cost his life- but those last-minute seconds of waiting would extend the lives of real people.
Snake, as a field medic, had waited for the news of people living or dying- once his job was done, it was out of his hands.
So, they had waited- patiently, no, and definitely with reluctance- but they had waited.
The atmosphere had grown increasingly tense- fights broke out faster and each party was quick to lash out, and the reaction-time for breaking them up, mainly by Snake, was getting slower and slower.
They had all debated on trying to go back to the Bank, but it was clear that MI6 wouldn't back down, and Cub would only suffer if they did.
One of the more 'peaceful' times, was when the soldiers worked their steam off in the home gym- it took their minds off of things, allowing them to focus on something other than the fact that Blunt was doing only god knows what to their unofficial member.
The days came and went- albeit slowly. Finally, it was time to go back to the Bank- to what extent the damage was to the broken boy... and if they could put him back together.
O-o-O-o-O
Sixteen days, six hours, thirty-four minutes previously.
"Did he struggle?" Blunt asked the agent who had escorted the teen into his office, eyeing the fresh bruises and bloodied wrists with detached amusement.
"Yes, sir," the agent replied smoothly. "He put up one helluva fight- it took two agents just to calm him down."
Alex clenched his jaw, glaring rebelliously at the floor.
He hadn't- the agent was lying and Blunt perfectly well knew that.
He hadn't struggled when they had put those damned cuffs on, leaving him completely vulnerable and helpless to the beating that followed. Nonetheless, he was grateful when they avoided his still-healing ribcage and shoulder- indicating a warning that the higher-ups wanted him 'undamaged' as they liked to put it. Blunt never had, and never would care about his health- only how much an inconvenience it would be to him if he were injured.
He had resisted the urge to break the nose of an agent who had been certainly close enough to do so.
It made him sick just thinking about it- but he'd had orders, dammit! Orders he knew he had to follow- Blunt's orders.
Blunt examined the boy for a moment, before signaling the agent forward.
Alex tensed, waiting for a blow, blinking in surprise when he felt the handcuffs click open.
"Dismissed."
The agent nodded curtly, before leaving the room.
Alex knew better than to massage his raw wrists, or relieve his screaming shoulders- the man sitting before him preyed on any weaknesses shown.
Instead, he stood stiffly- arms by his sides, head bowed respectively- waiting.
Waiting for- dreading, actually- the orders of another mission- which would most likely turn out to be a series of back-to-back missions. It was because of his defiance, he knew. It had only taken him a month to crumble last time- had it really only been a week ago?
"Your next assignment will be in approximately two weeks' time. You will receive further details later."
Alex didn't sigh in relief- Blunt wasn't known for 'keeping his promises'- he could easily bump the date up to anytime he wanted, and catch him off guard. Besides, two weeks at the Bank didn't mean Blunt would allow him to properly recover.
Blunt continued. "Until then, you will undertake any training I see fit- you will obey the orders of anyone who is in charge of you." The harsh tone offered no room for arguing. "Failure to comply will result in... unpleasant consequences. Is this understood?"
"Yes, sir," Alex answered quietly.
"Once the two weeks have ended, and you have properly healed, you will begin regularly scheduled missions, with a fifteen-hour rest period between each assignment."
Well. That was unexpected- if it was actually true. But... fifteen hours? He could live with that.
He could, and would survive.
What about-
"As for K-Unit..." Blunt's features were impassive and emotionless as ever. "You will no longer live with them- temporary or otherwise; visits will be infrequent and, of course, the decision is entirely up to me," the dry voice drawled on. "Your missions and well-being will be reflected on your behavior. Is this understood?"
"Yes, sir," the boy replied automatically.
There was a moment of silence as the Director of MI6 methodically studied his agent- eyes missing nothing.
"Dismissed."
The spy inclined his head, moving to leave; he hovered near the door, hesitating, hand fluttering over the doorknob.
"Go to your room," Blunt ordered forcibly.
He left.
O-o-O-o-O
Alex made his way through the seemingly endless corridors before reaching the familiar door.
He had been mildly surprised and pleased when there hadn't been an agent waiting outside the office, ready to pounce and drag him out in cuffs.
The teen paused, a frown played upon his expression.
They had removed- no, changed the locks.
Instead of a heavy deadbolt, a shiny silver metal device fit snugly into the door- one near his head, and an identical one near the floor. A quick examination showed that it was present on both sides.
An automatic lock- or even a lock controlled by remote.
Alex bit his lip, not wanting to lock himself in his room.
Except he didn't want to risk getting into trouble with Blunt.
In the end, the teen allowed the door to close behind him- his suspicions confirmed when a soft click indicated a lock being engaged.
Well, if Blunt hadn't been lying, he had another two weeks before his next mission.
Alex quickly went to work, disinfecting the minor scrapes and applying salve and bandages to his damaged wrists. Thankfully, he hadn't received a concussion; the other bruises were minor and would heal relatively quickly.
Once done, he collapsed into the small cot- only to be rudely awoken less than twenty minutes later.
O-o-O-o-O
"Get up," a voice hissed in his ear.
The boy's eyes shot open, and he rolled quickly to his feet.
A pair of gym shorts, a t-shirt, and combat boots were thrust in his arms.
"Get changed. You have two minutes."
Alex blinked as the door opened, and the man let himself out, flipping the light-switch on as he left.
The teen made quick work of getting dressed, briefly stopping in the bathroom before meeting the man outside.
The agent snapped his fingers, hardly glancing at the boy as he led him through the halls.
Alex didn't recognize where they were going- only that they were moving deeper underground, to levels he hadn't known existed.
His heart sank when he realized that they were in an extremely well-stocked gym.
What followed was three hours of a high-intensity and exhausting PT session.
And then another three hours of hand-to-hand combat, taught by a different person.
They were intentionally wearing him down, he contemplated during an agonizingly long run on a treadmill. They were breaking him- making him more pliable to become what they wanted.
Meals were infrequent, and sleep even less.
With the exhausting PT and other session, they were succeeding in running him to the ground.
The men and women that were 'training' him were cold, hard, and unreadable.
The spy had learned long ago to obey orders immediately and without question.
His instructors demanded respect, obedience, and submission.
They gave no reasons or explanations- they gave nothing, actually.
As the days passed by, he could feel his concentrating slipping away. The different instructors- their faces, anyway- blurred together.
It wasn't all PT, though- from languages and weapons' training, to disguises and learning how to cover/hid his emotions- or getting rid of them completely.
("Pay attention," the woman snapped. "Repeat the exercises- remember, you are not hiding your emotions, you are controlling them, and then removing them completely. Do not build a mask. Become one.")
The training was intentionally confusing, and random- there was no 'schedule.' No patterns. No ways of mentally and physically preparing himself- he was completely at their mercy.
And so he complied.
He obeyed.
He submitted- to them, to Blunt.
Alex knew he was drifting- that he was losing something important. Except he was finding that he couldn't bring himself to care- really, if emotions only caused him pain, why did he need them at all?
It wasn't like previous times when he had built a strong layer or armor on top of masks and more armor. No, he wasn't making that shell- he was melding into it, becoming it- which was exactly what they wanted of him.
He let go of that previous identity- disassociating from it completely- all the attachments, all the emotions and-and letting go of the pain.
And, in the only way the spy could, he finally felt a sense of peace.
O-o-O-o-O
The first thing Fox had noticed about Cub when they entered the room, was that he was tired. Dark smudges rimmed bloodshot eyes- the teenager was practically radiating exhaustion. Ben was surprised he was standing upright from the heaviness in the air around him.
The second, was that he was composed. Perfect posture- standing straight, arms at his sides, face an emotionless mask.
Ben was worried when it took a moment too long before he saw a flicker of recognition flashed through those eyes.
K-Unit was at his side in seconds- immediately becoming protective, especially in the presence of the hostile agents that hovered in the edges of the (rather large) room.
"Jesus, kid- the hell they do to you?" Wolf hadn't liked his response, or lack thereof.
Snake frowned, doing a brief look-over of the boy. No apparent injuries to speak of- yet.
The teen backed away from them, glancing to the doorway- where a familiar grey man stood.
"Get away from my agent."
Eagle curled his lip at the voice. "We waited two weeks," he shot back. "Just like you said."
Alan Blunt raised an eyebrow, the only indication of having heard him. Grey eyes dragged over to the young spy- before he clicked his tongue.
The boy immediately scampered to his side.
"It's alright, Cub," Ben coaxed softly. "We're here now, it's going to be OK."
Alex sent Blunt another questioning look- almost... was that confusion?
"The human psych is such a fascinating thing," he murmured. "From human, to spy, to dog. After that, well, anything is an improvement, isn't it?"
O-o-O-o-O
Spies mold into anything the situation demands- but it is rarely free will, and your job is to adapt into anything they wish. And, eventually, they will succeed in forcing you to become that person, not merely an illusion of one.
O-o-O-o-O
Eh- yeah. Let's just say there's going to be a lot of angst next chapter... prepare yourself.