Hellooo everyone! So, I've kinda ditched the idea of Lara speaking a mixture of Dutch, Portuguese, German, etc, but I'll try to bring it back in this chap.

Enjoy, and be happy!

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MI6, Lara's Quarters…

Sitting for two hours, Alex didn't get anything notably related to Rachel Rider, nor Cobra. Since he mentioned the spelling bee, she just started spelling things out and giving the definitions. Not only in English: German, Portuguese, and Dutch, too. Alex tried to ask her questions about her school or about her life, but she just didn't say anything or she would spell another word.

"Educational system. E-D-U-C-A-T-I-O-N-A-L S-Y-S-T-E-M. Educational system. A system of stimulating a mind's brain!" Lara would say, and then start laughing hysterically.

Although her freakiness, weirdness, psycho-ness, and overall insaneness didn't just annoy Alex, it was frustrating him even further. He was practically killing himself over wanting to know more about his family, since they weren't alive to tell him.

The questions Mr. Blunt gave him were to no avail, either: Who is Cobra? Did they tell you about any places? What were they wearing? What did they sound like? What did they look like? They were all questions that would cause her 'a major panic attack' or whatever. Mr. Blunt should know better, should not he? Wasn't it just yesterday that he was told to keep the questions on the DL and not get her into a panic attack? Seemed to Alex that MI6 –or Mr. Blunt, rather—was in a hurry to get some information quick.

After saying goodbye to Lara, and Lara spelling goodbye in German back, Alex stormed out of Lara's quarters and made his way into Mr. Blunt's office.

And no 'security guard' could stop him.

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Mr. Blunt's office…

In this grey office, a grey man sitting on a grey leather chair tapped a grey pencil on a grey desk on a vanilla folder just like he had the previous night. The face of the woman sitting in front of him showed an emotion of uncertainty with her hands on yet another folder on her lap.

"This will work, Mrs. Jones," said a very confident Mr. Blunt. Mrs. Jones sighed and frowned at him.

"I do admit, given the evidence, that she will talk, but—"

"But what, Mrs. Jones?"

"But I don't think this is the morally right thing to do to Lara." said the mint-scented woman. The grey-haired man scoffed.

"Well, I don't think the things Cobra did to her were morally right, either," he commented, "and besides; this is a way we can get her to release the pain in the comfort and satisfaction she expressed through the tape. I'll have everything ready in three days."

Silence plagued the room as it did Lara's.

"I fail to see the reason to rush this whole operation, Mr. Blunt. The last time I heard from the Head is to take as much time needed on this operation as possible. We have no leads; therefore we have no reason to catch up on one."

"That's exactly why we need to carry out this operation," argued Mr. Blunt, "to get some leads! This may be one of the biggest happenings yet!"

"This is no operation! This is a mere prank! And I do not see Cobra as being anything bigger than a group of people capturing wealthy children and ransoming them! There is no evidence that they are harmful to the public!" argued back Mrs. Jones. Mr. Blunt tsked.

"You know me and you know me well, Mrs. Jones," he said, "and I do not like to repeat myself. Smithers will get this project done in three days and we will execute the plan on the third day. Thursday. End of story."

Mrs. Jones pursed her lips together. Blunt was right, but he was wrong; even though she knew him well, he was acting like another person. Alex, on the other hand, was indeed right; there was definitely something wrong with Mr. Blunt.

Alex barged into Mr. Blunt's office.

'Speak of the devil…'

"You knew," Alex accused, pointing at Mr. Blunt, "you knew that Rachel Rider was my cousin. You knew that and you didn't tell me."

Mr. Blunt looked at Alex blankly. "Well, of course," he said, as if he was being asked if he worked for MI6.

"Why did you keep this from me?" he blamed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was sure that a smart boy like you would find out sooner or later." said the man, "Alex, now isn't a time to be childish. MI6 has to keep a lot of secrets away from their agents to protect them." he said, not looking up from the document he was reading.

"Yeah, first it was that whole matter about my dad, Ian, and Scorpia, and now this," declared Alex, "this agency isn't built on trust."

…

"Of course this agency isn't built on trust, Alex," agreed Mr. Blunt, "do you even know what the word trust means?"

"Trust. T-R-U-S-T. To have or place confidence in, or to depend on, according to Lara." Alex said, trying to explain what he was enduring for the past two hours.

"Yes, of course," said Mr. Blunt, totally oblivious to Alex's point, "and if this agency was built for people to depend on it, we wouldn't have agents out there trusting their own instincts and using their own skills for their own operations. That, Alex, is definitely why this agency is built on anything other than trust."

Alex couldn't help but feel defeated. Once again, the seemingly legitimate reasons were against him.

"Well if you don't tell me more about my family, I won't work with Lara anymore. That whack job Lara isn't giving any valuable information about Cobra at all!" threatened Alex. Mr. Blunt pursed his lips into a thin line (his attempt at a sneaky smile).

"Alex, if you stay in this mission, in three days you'll have your answer. In fact, I won't even need you to come until this Thursday." he said.

Alex was taken aback. Not come until Thursday?

"What?" he said, a facial expression somewhat relating to confusion. "What do you mean?"

Mr. Blunt again tried in feeble attempt to smile, "I mean you can waltz home right now and not show your face here until ten o'clock Thursday, three days from now. Don't you even come near this place until then—and that is a command. I will guarantee your questions answered by then."

Alex looked to Mrs. Jones, who hadn't said a thing since Alex came in. Her eyes didn't meet Alex as her face was emotionless, as if trying to hide something. Mr. Blunt was definitely acting weird, and Alex would have to have to talk with her later.

"Very well then," murmured Alex, "Thursday it is."

Alex walked out of Mr. Blunts office without another word. Mr. Blunt looked over at Mrs. Jones, who was assembling the folder in her lap and getting up from her seat.

"We are getting Alex too deep into this project, again. You are using his zealous attitude towards knowing more about his family to fuel your operation. Aren't you ashamed for manipulating his feelings into proceeding with this investigation?"

Mr. Blunt shook his head, "Oh, Mrs. Jones. It was not I who manipulated him in the first place." Mrs. Jones looked up at him with a questioning glance as he continued, "It was you who mentioned the existence of Rachel Rider, Mrs. Jones."

Mrs. Jones blinked in realization as Mr. Blunt walked slowly to exit his office, his grey shoes padding on the grey carpet, leaving a grey feeling over MI6.

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The Rider House…

Alex took his time walking home. He got there around half past twelve, and he saw Jack in the kitchen with some "late breakfast" for him.

Taking a bite out of his chicken sandwich, Alex eyed Jack suspiciously, who was unusually quiet.

"How was your date with your friend?" he asked.

"Oh, fine." Jack answered, not looking at him, her elbow on the island with her hand cradling her jaw, staring at a white napkin.

"Who was it?" Alex inquired, trying to get Jack back to her lively old self.

"What…who? Oh, Frank? Yeah, we went to high school together," she muttered.

"Why was he here?" Alex asked.

"He attended his grandmother's funeral. He's here until next week," came a monotonous Jack.

"Are you okay?" Alex asked her. Jack sighed and looked up at him.

"Well, I just feel really bad for not telling you about Rachel, Alex." she said. "I mean, I'm the only family you've got, and I'm not even related to you!"

Alex smiled, in spite of bringing up the fact of Rachel again. "It's alright. I'll get the answers by this Thursday, anyways." Alex was surprised when Jack didn't ask why.

"Well, here's a picture of her," Jack said, tossing a small school picture across the island. Alex immediately dropped his sandwich and picked up the picture.

She was the female version of Alex (A/N: she must be VERY pretty, cuz Mr. Pettyfer is SMOKIN' HOT!!). Her shaggy blonde hair was like a boys, tousled here and there for the bed head with the length just below her jaw line. Her refined jaw and thin lips were below her solid brown eyes. What surprised Alex was her age. She couldn't have been older than him.

"How old is she, by the way?" he asked Jack.

"Last time I checked, she turned 13 on the 18th of January," murmured Jack. Alex was really surprised. She was so young, and some people were after her…worse yet, the seniors at Lara's school were after her…even worse yet, they found her!

Alex's heart rate skyrocketed up. What could they've done to her? Why did they want her? Does Yassen have anything to do with this? Could the seniors in Lara's school be related to Cobra? Could they be Cobra?

Alex then relaxed himself. Lara told him that 'they found her' when she was very sick, when she passed out from just the memory. Now, she was more conscious (but still equally insane).

Frustration started brewing up in him again. Why did this investigation have to take so long?

--------------------------

Later that Night…

Licking an ice cream cone, Alex flipped on the television and the news was on.

"…Back to our main story: a grade seven graduation ceremony was recently terrorized by a group of men dressed in black with unusually high neck collars," said the plastic, blond-haired news anchor, "These men were after one of the graduates. Our sources say that she has short blonde hair with brown eyes. We can not state her name because she is a minor."

Alex's jaw dropped, and so did his ice cream.

"A person associated closely with the girl said that she noticed the victim was being followed by men she claimed were her distant bodyguards. Police are now questioning her on the appearance of these men. The victim was not caused any bodily harm, but it is said that she has locked herself in her home. More updates on this story as it unfolds. Back to you, Bob."

Alex quickly grabbed the remote, pressed rewind and recorded the whole news broadcast again (A/N: Yes, he does have one of those TVs). Could that girl be Rachel? Could what Lara said be a premonition?

"They found her…"

Could those men be Cobra? They are definitely Cobra…the "unusually high necked collars". He remembered his spelling lesson with Lara the day before.

"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…"

Damnit! He didn't remember what she said! All he remembered was it was some bogus scientific answer. It must be Cobra.

He should go to Mr. Blunt! No…he was going to do this himself. He was going to prove to Mr. Blunt that he could trust himself, and not depend on MI6's gadgets, programs, and sources. Alex was going to figure this out by himself.

----------------------------

Hmm…yesss… very mysterious I am.

Well, I don't know if they have Elementary school/High school curriculum in England or wherever Alex lives, but hey, it's just a story!!!

I apologize for the last chapter, though: it was soooo lame. I was kinda stretching the fact of short chapters and frequent updates. But now that I've got an actual story going and a proper plotline, I'll feed you guys these chappies with a flow!!!!

Anyhoo…can't say I'm not excited about how many people favourited mah story…AND added me to their FAVE Authors ! You guys are gonna live FANTASTIC lives, seriously. You know you're the best! LOL. And y'all with me juston yah Story Alert list, it's coming to you!

JK, well, if you guys got time, check out my Holes story "How It All Came Down to This" –it is one of my earliest stories, and it isn't as good as this one, but I need some encouragement/constructive criticism on how to make it better. I'm considering about rewriting it, too!

Well, Au revoir my party peoples!

LK - No Da!

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The (Not So) Hidden Tidbit!

Maybe it was my craziness, lameness, stupidness, weird-ness, or just plain "trying-to-be-funny"-ness, I put this here for those

Featuring Mrs. Jones advertising Illicitly Mints.

Director: …and, take three thousand and one, ACTION!

Man Speaker: "Introducing the new Illicitly Mints."

Mrs. Jones standing in a white seamless room

Mrs. Jones: "If you have a job that takes your whole strength, like convincing 14 year olds to join a secret mission force, arguing with a dull, grey-haired old man, and being forced to live every day like it's your last, then you'll enjoy Illicit Mints."

Whips out green and blue rectangular pack of Illicit Mints and grins for the camera.

Mrs. Jones: "Not your regular Peppermints, Illicitly Mints: Mints so illicitly minty, they'll blow your bad breath away."

Pops a circular mint into her mouth and blows a kiss to the camera. She grins again.

Mrs. Jones: "It's not just minty, it's illicitly minty,"

Cellphone rings, Mrs. Jones answers it.

Mrs. Jones: "Yes? Alright, okay. See you there."

Puts phone back in her pocket.

Mrs. Jones: "Time to commence Operation Minty Hippo, and remember: It's not just minty, it's illicitly minty…"

flies up from the screen using jet-powered stilettos.

Mrs. Jones: "AAAAAAHHHHHH!"

CRASH; spotlight falls down from ceiling onto ground

Director: "…and CUT!"

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Ahahaha…. that was my feeble attempt of a little commercial for either your amusement/pity. I know Mrs. Jones would probably not act like this, but hey, it's my first time, so crack a joke, eh?

Yours truly,

LK – No da!