Hello peoples! This has gotta be the fastest time I've updated in a loooooong time!! I'm only a bit into summer, and who knows what I might do with homework well away from me!!!! Well, here's another SHORT chapter: the verdict's in, short chapters frequent updates, so ENJOY!

Review if you're the best in the world (which you ALL ARE! MWAH!)!!

LK

MI6, Lara's Quarters.

It was all coming back. The men, the knives, the torture. The serrated knife came again to her memory, dragging along her face, her flesh ripping open so slowly, the warm blood cascading down her face bringing its coppery scent with it. Every punch, every kick, every slap…and this stupid organization said she was healthy.

And who was the cause? Who got her into this mess? Who was the one who could've done something about this?

Lara sat up in her bed, darkness surrounding her. A laugh void of humor escaped from her smiling lips. Lara really wished there was something she could do.

"You did cause me a whole lot of your trouble, didn't you?" she said to the darkness. When no one answered, she trembled in fury, and screamed. "One more thing: before disappearing and before emotionally vomiting on someone else's shoes, try telling them that there's a bunch of thugs on your case! I believed you and I didn't tell anyone so I could protect you! What did you do to protect me, eh? What did you do while the crap was being kicked outta me?" Lara's anger sped down her cheeks and onto her hands.

"And now you've got this guy on my case, and there's only God knowing what I'll do to make him believe you were a sick little person you really are." Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, Lara looked up to the ceiling.

"You know what? There's only one reason I'm not talking, and that's because I'm never gonna let them find you. I'm gonna let you stay there until they find your sorry little dead behind and bring you up here. Then I'll spill my guts. Then I'll let everything out, as soon as you're dead as he is…"

Rasped breathing echoed in the room…

"…as soon as your dead as he is…"

Little did Lara Domovoi know that the red blinking light in the top right hand corner of her room was taping everything she said…

The Next Day

Alex woke up at 9:50. He literally leaped out of bed, jumped into his clothes and ran down the stairs in ten seconds flat.

"Makesuremylatebreakfastisreadyattwelve!" he jibbered to Jack, who barely had time to digest the information, holding her coffee.

Alex grabbed his bike and headed for MI6. The questions in his mind yesterday were killing him, and he had to know them. Better yet, he needed to confront Mr. Blunt about something that was making him pedal his bike at lighting speed…

At MI6…

Although through many vain attempts, Alex wasn't able to get through to Mr. Blunt. He was ushered by security personnel to 'his station': a white chair in a white hallway in front of Lara's door.

Waiting for Mrs. Jones, he took out the black notebook that Mrs. Jones gave him out of his pocket. He flipped to a fresh page, writing down the questions that plagued his mind ever since yesterday, but he started out with more mild (yet inquisitive) questions, just to get her going.

As if almost on cue, Mrs. Jones came out of Lara's room just as Alex finished writing down his questions.

"Good morning, Alex," greeted a very business-like Mrs. Jones holding a folder. She was wearing a cream jacket along with a matching skirt cropped at the knee. The familiar smell of mint lingered around her.

"Same to you," Alex chimed.

"I'm sure you're eager to get in there, but after what happened last session, I trust that you'll be more careful in your choice of questions," she said in a very motherly way. Alex nodded.

"Of course," he said, "in fact, I've—"

"That's why Mr. Blunt has given you a list of questions to ask her," Mrs. Jones said, pulling out a sheet of paper from the folder she was carrying, "I trust that you will have most of the answers in before she has another attack."

Alex exhaled loudly, "Yes, I'll do better this time." he said, glancing at the questions which had no use to him personally, but fully to Cobra. "

"Very well then, on your way." Mrs. Jones said, opening the door for Alex to go in. With a nod, Alex stepped into the room.

"One last thing," he said, turning around to face Mrs. Jones, "have you noticed anything wrong with Mr. Blunt lately?"

Her face was unsure, and worried, "So you've noticed, also?"

"It is that evident," Alex said. Mrs. Jones sighed.

"We'll talk later. Go on," she said. Alex nodded and proceeded into the pallid room.

Lara was in the same condition he saw her in last time.

"Hey, Lara," he greeted, making his way to the pale chair beside her bedside. Lara's black eyes were glazed over and as if looking at something behind Alex. Her white hospital gown was like a wrinkly tent over her thin frame, her hair serving as a very pale night sky and her face, as pale as the moon. Alex was relieved that the cuts were healing, but took notice of the five inch scar along her temple.

He just stared blankly at her for a few moments, neither of them noticing how long they sat there for. It was when Alex's notebook fell on the floor that he picked it back up again and started asking her questions.

"So, Lara," he began, "how are you doing in school?"

This time, Lara wasn't so talkative as she was last time. Her eyes went to her hands.

"What subjects do you like?"

Again, she just stared at her hands.

"I mean, I like PE, 'cuz soccer is my sport, and...the spelling bee! Oh, I just love the competitions on TV! They're so intense, and who can spell a word like pneumonoultramicroscopics-whatever," he said, in an attempt to get her interested to speak. His enthusiasm was bogus.

Silence seemed to be overjoyed right now.

"Okay, Lara, there's no way you want to be here right now. If you tell me everything right now, I promise you, I'll do everything I can to get you out of here fast."

The ringing in his ears was enough to make anyone go mad. Alex made his way to the door. He was too damn impatient to wait for this girl to talk.

"Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis?" she blurted. Alex's head whipped around.

"What?"

"Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis: P-N-E-U-M-O-N-O-U-L-T-R-A-M-I-C-R-O-S-C-O-P-I-C-S-I-L-I-C-O-V-O-L-C-A-N-O-C-O-N-I-O-S-I-S. A kind of lung disease caused by breathing in certain particles."

This time, silence took its toll on Alex.

"Um…what about ringhals?"

"Ringhals: RINGHALS. A kind of snake that spits venom into it's prey/enemies' eyes that can cause immense pain or blindness. Related in some way to the cobr…"

Alex sat back in his seat, "Related to the…?"

"C-cobra," Lara stuttered.

"Yes," Alex said, trying to see what he could say that would get him information from the Cobra to Rachel Rider, "what else do you know about the Cobra?"

Lara looked up at him, terror in her eyes.

"It's highly venomous, s-severely highly venomous, and it can f-flat-flatten its neck t-to m-m-make a hoodlike ap-p-ppearance when it is d-disurbed-d…"

"Okay, what causes them to get disturbed…?"

"They get disturbed when…"

Mr. Blunt's Office

"I've recovered the tape from Lara's room," Mr. Blunt said to Mrs. Jones, "and it gives away some vital information." Mr. Blunt put in the tape in a VCR (VCR? wth?) and pressed play.

After viewing the tape, Mrs. Jones nodded, "So she won't talk unless the person she's talking about is dead. How quaint." She looked up at Mr. Blunt.

"I have a plan," Mr. Blunt said, a grin plastering his face the first time since he played a prank on his mother…yes, a prank.

I know, not much (and ANTOHER EFFING CLIFFIE!!), but with frequent updates and praise/reviews/CONSTRUCTIVE & NICE criticism, I'll get more depth into me chappies, aye!

On another note... OMG! You HAVE to see this: go to http :// youtube . com / watch?v V1yT0bvqKfg (remove spaces…I dunno why you have to do that). ITS DISGUSTINGLY COOL! It just shows you how big an anaconda's mouth can stretch!

…

It's amazing what brothers can show you...