A Skill To Be Desired

"How are you going to get to London without a plane?"

Byrne was still holding Nico's ticket, his hand rigid. Nico was already walking away.

"I'll be there before you, trust me. It was the Royal and General Bank, wasn't it?"

Byrne had hardly nodded before the young boy disappeared around a corner. Still clutching his own air fare ticket and wondering how in the world a teenage boy would get to Britain faster than a plane, Byrne headed to the airport. He had his doubts, but locked them away, remembering their conversation.

"Do you have any particular interest in espionage?"

Nico sat and thought about it.

"Not much," he admitted. "I only associated spies and agents with childhood fantasies, and I am far from being a child."

Byrne thought that Nico should still be dreaming of being spy. Something awful must have happened to make a young boy grow up so fast.

"Well, I am offering you a position in an organisation."

Nico choked on his words, could completely unawares. They wanted him to be a spy?

"You what?"

"I want to offer you a position," Byrne repeated. "We had another child spy and he was a success. And you seem to be another of those rare, gifted kids. We want you with us."

Nico had thought about it, concealing his emotions behind a mask of blankness. Then he'd looked Byrne in the eye and said.

"I think I will."

Nico never remembered being wanted before. Bianca wanted him, and Percy seemed to want to help him, but no one had outright told him they would be honoured to have him near them - working with them. Even after Gaea was defeated Nico was still that weird son of Hades no one wanted to be around.

Nico always expected to die at a young age – most demigods did. Others went on to become successes in the world. Maybe this was how he would carve his own path. An international secret agent.

Of course, no one could know about his powers. But he would use them to become someone who was respected and idolised, not the one who sent people screaming.

Nico sat down for a moment in the same shadow as before. It was still night time, but the sun was rising steadily and he preferred to shadow-travel at night. Still, a few minutes to think would be good.

Byrne had mentioned another boy who'd done work for them. Nico still didn't know his name, just that he was – still is – a well-respected agent, who'd worked for the heads of MI6 – Mrs Jones and a retired Mr Blunt – for over a year. Byrne had also told him he was going to a British training camp called Brecon Beacons – for how long, he didn't say. Nico was thinking that he could handle anything a mortal could throw at him. He'd been through and seen far worse than any training camp could have. Still, the other teen spy made him curious. His father had recently been fuming over a file of a boy slightly older than Nico who, according to Hades, should have died on several accounts. Nico wondered if this was the same kid. Alex Rider was the name on the stack of paperwork in Hades' office. Nico made it his miniature mission to find out if the prodigy teen he would meet was the Rider who was giving his dad trouble. Hades hadn't managed to come up with a sentence for the 'Excuses for continued living' part of the document, and that was the most valid. Nico decided to find out if there was a good reason Rider was still alive.

Finally standing up, the son of Hades twisted his hips to get rid of a crick in his back. Then, he turned towards the shadow and thought with all his might of the Royal and General Bank in Liverpool Street, London.

Nico hadn't expected it to be raining so hard. The sky was black with clouds and he was being pelted from all sides by harsh droplets that wormed their way through his aviator jackets thick hide. Walking calmly, Nico looked up to see the water-blurred words of Royal and General Bank staring down at him from a gold-and-black sign. Dodging out of the English weather, Nico pushed open the door and went in.

The receptionist looked up, went back to her work, and then did a double-take. Some black-clad boy with a walking stick had just entered the building, and was heading straight for her. The desk came up to his chest, which was well-muscled, and he looked into her eyes with his black ones. A flicker of a smile passed over his lips.

"Hello," he said with an American accent. "My name is Nico di Angelo. I believe a Mrs Jones is expecting me. I was sent here by Mr Byrne of the CIA. Please do not insult my intelligence in pretending this is a legitimate bank."

The receptionist blinked once. Then twice. Then she pressed a button underneath the desk and a second later the elevator to the side of the desk dinged.

Mrs Jones stepped out.

The woman behind the desk was surprised. Usually it was the guards who came when the button was activated, but the head of MI6 must have given them the slip and taken the lift herself. As Nico faced her, the stern woman faltered a step before continuing on until she stood in front of the boy.

"I was informed of your arrival, Mr di Angelo," she said. "Although I was under the impression they had sent someone older."

Nico mentally rolled his eyes. He was around ninety-something actually, counting the time in the Lotus Casino. But that was not something he told anyone. Instead, Nico let a ghostly smile twitch his lips up.

"I get that a lot," he told her. "But usually people only say it once."

It was casual enough, but there was an undercurrent of a threat that made Mrs Jones stiffen up a bit. She caught a glint in the young boys eyes, and realised he was one of those people who'd seen too much too young. Just like…

"Come this way."

Mrs Jones started walking back towards the lift and Nico followed. The guard outside the lift looked curiously at the walking stick strapped to the boy's hip, but the pale protective hand clutching the top deterred the guard from taking it away. He would have to pass it over before he went anywhere alone with Mrs Jones anyway, and seeing as the guard inside the lift was still wide awake, Nico got to keep hold of his disguised sword.

"Please sit, Nico."

Nico sat, feeling exposed. His sword had been taken before he was allowed to enter Mrs Jones' office and he felt bare without it. Hopefully the meeting would finish soon.

Mrs Jones, now sucking one of her infamous peppermints, linked her hands and leaned forward.

"Mr di Angelo, I would just like to warn you that you do not have to do this. You must be sixteen and over to enter SAS training camp, and you're only fourteen. There has been one exception, and he is one of our most successful operatives. He is only residing at Brecon Beacons for safety, and the rest if classified."

Nico asked before he thought.

"Is his name Alex Rider?"

Mrs Jones went stiff as a board. Nico mentally beat himself up for such a stupid mistake. Her black eyes bored into his.

"How would you know that?"

Nico shrugged, playing it off.

"Mr Byrne mentioned him after I agreed to join."

Byrne had mentioned the other teen spy, but not by name. Anyway, by the time Jones found out, Nico assumed it'd be later.

"Yes," she agreed slowly. "Alex Rider is the other boy. He'll be at Brecon Beacons soon too, and he knows what he's doing. I suspect you'll be put into the same unit, as K-Unit has dealt with young people before."

Nico nodded, processing this.

"But what I want to know, Nico." Mrs Jones leaned closer. "How did you get here so fast? We were only informed of your arrival not fifteen minutes ago, from America. Is there something you must tell us?"

Nico hesitated. He didn't know how to answer.

"It's a family secret," he settled on. Mrs Jones narrowed her eyes.

"If it is an ability that could mean the difference between a life and a death, we should know about it. Fifteen minutes, Nico. It's impossible."

You wouldn't believe me if I told you I hadn't even started journeying until fourteen, Nico thought to himself.

"I'm afraid I don't know how it works," he said carefully. The head of MI6 nodded warily. This new boy wasn't easy to trust. What he'd done was physically impossible, yet here he was. Maybe SAS training would loosen him up. Maybe.

"Well," she said. "Mr Byrne won't be here for another few hours, and you must be exhausted. We have a spare room you can have while we wait and I'll send in supplies and fresh clothes. You'll be deported to Brecon Beacons tomorrow."

The meeting was clearly over. Nico stood and left, his reward for concentrating so long being the return of his beloved sword. The guard handed the walking stick back, then walked away, gesturing for Nico to follow. He did, and after many corners and twists, a door was in front of him. The guard opened it and Nico warily walked in. The door shut.

The son of Hades checked out the room. A duffel bag sat at the end of a single bed with grey sheets and pillow. Another door led to a bathroom, and the only décor was an oak wood closet. Nico rummaged in the bag, eventually pulling out a spare pair of boxers. He found a set of black silk pants, and set off to the bathroom.

After showering, the son of Hades sat down on the bed and thought, running his hands over his disguised sword. Why did he join the secret agent service?

To get away from my cursed life.

Why didn't he go back to the Underworld where he belonged?

I don't belong there anymore.

What about the camps?

They never trusted me anyway.

How about Hazel?

I have spare drachma. I'll IM her later.

And Percy?

I'm over him.

Nico stopped the rampage of questions in his head and lay down. He knew he wouldn't sleep long – the nightmares were too bad. But he rested his head onto the pillow and stared at the ceiling before his eyelids closed and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Also, guys, there's swearing in this story, because it's in the army and they don't care about language. So, swearing coming up in future chapters. You can just read over it if you don't like it, but I'm trying to make this a realistic as possible and they don't say 'fudge' in the army.