Hi, another long chapter! Took me ages to find a place to break it off. Anyway, i hope you enjoy it! :D (oh and if you do, please review! THANK YOU!!)

The door gave way almost silently, the soft wood collapsing under Yassen's weight. He stepped lightly over the rotten boards, his eyes darting to either side. No one came rushing out to meet them so he assumed that they hadn't been heard.

"Where are they?" Wolf asked quietly, coming up to stand beside Yassen.

"Over there," he whispered back, straining his ears, and then pointing in their direction. "We need to get round there," He paused. "Our best bet is to split up and come at them from both sides at once. They won't be expecting that. But I don't know if that'll work; how's your arm? Would you be able to fight with it like that?"

"It'll be fine," Wolf replied shortly, moving his arm in a quick circle. Yassen saw the tightening of his eyes and mouth as he fought to keep the pain hidden, but didn't comment.

"Ok, let's go, but don't kill them all. Skinner's blonde, shoot him, but leave him alive," he muttered finally, turning away from Wolf.

The younger man immediately set off in the opposite direction. His feet made no sound on the narrow walkway running around the edge of the warehouse. He glanced right and saw Yassen on the far side; he was much further ahead than Wolf, but he didn't speed up so he could draw level with him again. Placing his feet carefully between coils of rope and empty crates, Wolf continued towards the middle of the room.

He could see the men now, five of them, sitting in a tight circle. The three they had followed were speaking, clearly telling the other two what had happened. All five of them had their heads bent down, preventing Wolf from seeing their faces, but two of them had blonde hair. On the far side of the warehouse, Yassen drew his Socom, silently slotting the twenty-round magazine into place and flicking the safety off. Wolf did the same, pulling the Grach from his belt and checking the clip. It was full and he smiled savagely; all the pain from his shoulder faded away, and there was only him and the gun.

Yassen held up a hand, all fingers spread wide. Five seconds… four… another finger dropped, Wolf shifted position… one… NOW.

The order coursed through every muscle, driving him to his feet. He aimed automatically, driving bullets into non-fatal areas. Yassen brought three of them down in seconds, leaving the others to Wolf, who shot them both in the leg as they turned to face Yassen, guns drawn. He followed up with shots to their arms, making them drop their guns. They fell with a clatter to the floor before the final echoes of the gunshots had died away.

"Go down the ladder," Yassen called, swinging himself over the bar beside the walkway and dropping onto a crate, landing catlike on his feet, his eyes focused on the five men sprawled on the floor.

Wolf ran to the ladder at the end of the walkway and slid down the ladder, wincing as the movements jarred his arm. When he reached the group in the middle of the floor, Yassen had turned the men over onto their backs and was examining their faces.

"He's not here," he said, an edge of anger creeping into his voice. Wolf stopped dead and swore loudly, venting his annoyance in a single word.

"You're sure?" He asked.

"Of course, none of them look anything like him. See for yourself." Wolf stepped forward, past Yassen and bent to examine the men. Now he could see them close up, it was obvious that Skinner was not among the men on the floor.

"Now what?" he asked, straightening.

"We need a location, or at least an idea of a location. And we have five men here who almost certainly know where he is,"

"They won't say anything," Wolf said flatly.

"I'm a very persuasive person," said Yassen, turning away.

"I'm going to keep watch," Wolf said, sickened. Yassen watched him go. He didn't enjoy torture either, unlike some of the men that SCORPIA had trained, but his job was more important that a personal issue.

He turned back to the men and crouched down next to the nearest. The man shrank back, his eyes wide and fearful. And young. He was scarcely more than a boy, only eighteen or nineteen. Yassen ignored the terror in his eyes and dragged him away from his fellows; a whimper escaped his lips, causing Yassen to glance down. Blood was pouring from the wound in his leg, despite the hand clamped around it.

Yassen looked a little closer and realised that the man was as good as dead, no one could lose that much blood and live. The size of the wound told him that this was one of the men he had left for Wolf to shoot. He pushed the thoughts away, annoyed with himself and lowered himself to his knees. Blood instantly soaked the knees of his jeans.

"Where's Skinner?" He asked. The man whimpered again and shook his head.

"Can't… Can't tell… said… he said he'd kill anyone who told… you where he was…" the words were broken by gasps of pain.

"I'll kill you if you don't tell me where he is. And I promise you, it'll be a lot more painful than anything Skinner could think up for you," Yassen said quietly, his voice low and deadly.

"You don't… know Skinner," the man gasped, a thin smile tugging at his lips. It vanished when Yassen pulled the knife from his pocket.

"And you don't know me," He said. He reached out and forced the man's mouth open, setting the point of the blade against his gum. "I'll give you five seconds," he didn't count down, but he could see the fear in the man's eyes building.

"Time's up," He set the heel of his other hand onto the hilt of the knife and made as if to push. The man squealed and pulled away.

"I'll tell you!" he whispered. Yassen leant back, satisfied. He took the knife out of the man's mouth and wiped the blade clean, noting the tiny speck of blood on the tip of the blade.

"He's about a mile away from here, there's a house… I don't… I don't know the address… but it's big…" his voice caught and he closed his eyes briefly. Yassen watched emotionlessly, knowing that the man had only minutes left.

"Whereabouts is it?" he asked urgently, seeing the light begin to fade in the man's eyes.

"I think… it's by the river… just below the weir…" he paused, gasping for breath. "I… I'm dying, aren't I? I don't… don't want to die…" he reached out weakly to grasp Yassen's hand, but he pulled it back.

"Where exactly is the house?"

"I don't know… by the river… count… countess wear… I think it's there… Please… don't let me die..."

"I can't help you," Yassen said, his face expressionless as he stood up, turning his back on the dying man. He walked past the others, feeling their eyes follow him.

He turned suddenly and, with unerring accuracy, shot each of them dead, putting neat holes between their eyes. He slid the gun into his waistband and turned to face Wolf as he raced in, eyes wide and gun drawn. He stopped when he saw the men on the floor.

"What the hell did you do? You didn't need to kill them!" He exploded, checking each of their pulses and finding nothing.

"They would have told Skinner that we were after them,"

"You can't just kill innocent people!"

"They were working for him, it was better all round if they were eliminated," Yassen replied coolly. Wolf made an exasperated sound and turned away, then turned back, his forehead furrowed.

"Where's the other one? There were five of them, weren't there?"

"He's over there," Wolf walked over and stopped dead, looking down at the young man.

"You killed him as well?" he asked, his voice colder than ice.

"No. You shot him; he bled to death," Yassen retorted, his patience stretched thin. He saw Wolf pause, looking at the man on the floor.

"I killed him?"

"Yes," Yassen replied shortly.

"He's so young… why was he here?"

"You can ask Skinner when we find him," Yassen said, checking the other men.

"He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Wolf hesitated, unsure why he wanted to ask the question now, of all times. "Why did you save me? You never said, not properly at least."

"We don't have time for this," Yassen replied shortly.

"Tell me," Wolf said coldly, his voice hard. "It wasn't just because you felt sorry for me. Or because you were worried I'd be killed, was it?"

"No. You knew where I was, what I was after. Skinner would have left as soon as he saw you go down, you weren't in any danger. But if you told MI6 that I was after him as well, I would have been as good as dead. It was safer to keep you with me so I could keep an eye on you,"

"Why didn't you just kill me?"

"You didn't kill me when you had the chance. Besides, I thought that I could use the help. I wasn't expecting Skinner to turn up and shoot people on the first day, he's more dangerous than I expected," He paused, turning his head and sniffing the air like a dog… like a wolf.

Sirens sounded in the distance, "We need to go, the police won't take long to get here. Gunshots never go unnoticed for long," He spoke quickly, moving round and catching hold of Wolf's good arm. Wolf pulled his arm free instantly, but followed Yassen as he walked away. He unlocked the door and they walked back into the darkness of the alley.

Wolf pointedly kept his gaze off Yassen, ignoring him completely. While he understood his reasons, nothing had prepared him for the casual killing of four men, just because they might get word to Skinner. Another image floated to the front of his mind; empty eyes staring at the ceiling, filled with tears, a mouth hanging half open, and pain written into every line of his body. He had killed someone who was little more than a boy. He must have been about the same age as his brother had been. Did that make him as bad as the thugs who had killed his brother?

"Wolf? Get in the car; we need to go." Yassen's voice jerked his thoughts back to the present and he obeyed without thinking. They drove in silence, although Countess Wear was only a mile away as the crow flies, it took them almost quarter of an hour to reach it.

"Stay here, keep an eye out for any police. If you see anything, come and find me," Yassen said. Wolf nodded, glancing sideways at the Russian before focusing his gaze through the windscreen once more.

Yassen walked off, leaving Wolf in the car. He felt a slight pang of guilt at lying to the younger man, but he dispelled it with practised ease. Focusing his mind on the task at hand, he padded silently along the road. He kept his eyes on the windows of the houses, watching for movement, or any sign of a sniper. There was none of either and he continued down the hill. A large, cream coloured house shone clearly through the gloom and he walked towards it, slipping a hand into his waistband. A flicker of movement caught his eye, but by the time his eyes had settled on it, there was nothing there, only a gently fluttering curtain.

Suddenly tense, he stopped, drawing the gun in one fluid movement and flicking the safety off. He sprinted towards the house, flattening himself against the wall so he was less of a target. His breath suddenly echoed in his ears and every movement seemed deafeningly loud. Surely everyone could hear that he was there?

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he took a step away from the wall and slid around the corner.

The gunshot was surprisingly loud, echoing around the garden.