Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider or Alex Rider books.

Thanks very much for the reviews Karatematt and Lonnie! For Lonnie, Tom Harris is Alex's best friend from school. He's a character from the fifth book Scorpia and I really don't know whether he's on the soccer team or not, but it did say that he was good at sports in the book. He also ends up learning about Alex's "identity".

For those of you who have read my other fanfics, you'll know that I often make things happen too fast, or screw up the endings…I'm working at improving though. :D

Oh, and about the karate moves in here. Personally, I'm not in karate but in Taekwondo which is similar enough, but if there are any kicks that I guess aren't used in karate, I apologize. I also don't know whether they do form in karate, so I repeat the apology, if you don't; since I have Alex doing a move from red belt form in here.

Sorry I forgot to mention this before, but if you have not read SCORPIA yet, there will be MAJOR spoilers in here

Alex realized that he would be feeling much better if Yassen had been pointing a gun at his head, holding him here by force; forcing him to do this. But no one was forcing him to go help his friends, he had volunteered himself. Alex sighed: another vacation spoiled by the appearance of unwelcome visitors. Alex now looked at the variety of gadgets that Yassen had lain on the table in front of him, and wondered what Jack would say if she were here right now. Alex also stole a glance at Yassen. The killer had not said anything since he led Alex to the mini arsenal concealed behind the walls of the kitchen. He had merely observed Alex, seemingly satisfied with what he was seeing. Alex squirmed a bit under Yassen's gaze, and turned his attention back to the objects on the table.

Several guns, automatics of course; various bulletproof clothing items, a hand grenade, walkie-talkie, knives and other sharp, dangerous objects.

Alex glanced uneasily at the guns. Months ago, he would have given anything to be able to carry one on a mission, but the circumstances in which he had last been holding a gun made him change his mind greatly. The rage he had felt, the weight of the deadly weapon in his hands, Mrs. Jones…Alex shuddered a bit. However much he hated MI6 and their representatives, he was glad the bullet had missed. The truth had changed things a bit; the truth about his father, John Rider and Scorpia. Scorpia. Alex suddenly realized that Yassen did not know about Scorpia and about John Rider. Alex picked up one of the knives and examined it.

"I found Scorpia." Alex said quietly.

"Yes. I heard." Responded Yassen, "You seemed to have foiled one of their plans, too."

Alex nodded. He couldn't see Yassen's face and he wasn't sure he really wanted to.

"My father---"

"Was not who I thought he was," finished Yassen for him quickly, "either way it doesn't matter, Alex. Your father was my mentor and teacher. If not for him, I would not be so skilled at what I do. I owe him a debt that I intend to repay through you."

How comforting thought Alex dryly. His father had shaped the world's most efficient assassin who later killed his own brother, Ian Rider. The irony in that would have been hysterically funny if it weren't for the heaviness of the current situation.

Alex threw on a bulletproof vest and stuck a knife in his belt and another knife in his socks. He nodded at Yassen. Ready.

Yassen frowned at him. "No gun?"

Alex shook his head. Yassen continued to frown. He leaned towards Alex.

"Let me tell you the first lesson your father ever taught me, Alex: It's much better to be too prepared than not prepared. It's much better to have ammunition left over then to run out of ammunition. All part of "not underestimating your opponent"."

Yassen thrust an automatic into Alex's hands. "Your advantage, Alex, is once again your age. They will underestimate you. They will think that you are boy, so they will only prepare themselves to meet one. You are more than any boy on this planet Alex. That is how you have survived this long. "

A compliment if there ever was one. Knowing that Yassen was probably right, Alex stuck the automatic onto his belt as well. The Russian also handed him the grenade, which Alex absentmindedly strapped onto his pants, as well. He looked up and this time the assassin nodded.

"You are ready. Go now, Alex and save your friends. The blizzard has yielded enough for you to make your way back to the cabin easily.

"You're not going with me?" asked Alex; from the way the Russian had been talking, Alex had assumed that he would be coming along.

Yassen gave him an odd, almost amused look. "They are your friends, not mine." He responded with a shrug.

Alex scowled. Repay the debt indeed.

Alex heard the dogs before he saw the cabin. For the first time it seemed that Smither's little bomb had failed and the dogs were unharmed. Some of them had scratches, and were missing patches of fur, but nonetheless, the dogs remained in good condition. Alex was calculating the best way to avoid the dogs and get into the cabin, when came a sudden gust of wind. The dogs stiffened and instantly began to move towards his direction. In no time at all, Alex found himself facing a wall of lean, mean, hounds. The dogs bared their teeth and snarled. They obviously remembered his scent. Alex considered his choices. The automatic was immediately discarded as a possible choice. The sound of the bullet would definitely alarm the dogs who would pounce. The knife was not a choice either. To stab the dogs, he would have to get close to them; something he would prefer not to do at all costs. The grenade would alert the killers in the cabin that something was wrong, and Alex could not convince himself fully that he could get away in time from the grenade if he used it. Grinding his teeth to the sound of the growling as the dogs slowly closed in, Alex weighed his options one more time. And it struck him. It was certainly not the easiest way, but it was certainly better than using the grenade. Yassen had also given Alex special shoes adapted to the slippery snow before he left. It would work. Alex counted the dogs: one, two, three, four, five. He turned and ran.

Sprinting as fast as he could with the dogs closing in on him, Alex glanced around. He had seen what he had needed right now, the first time he had run from the cabin. There, straight ahead: another ravine. Alex sprinted towards the ravine at full speed, the dogs right behind him. At the last minute, he turned right sharply so that he was running right next to the ravine. Behind him, three of the dogs didn't make it and slid right into the ravine. The other two had barely made it and were fast behind him. Alex reached for the knife at his belt. He stopped suddenly and thrust the knife into one of the dogs as it ran by him. The animal howled with rage, ran a few more steps and collapsed to the floor, blood pooling.

The last dog now stood a few feet away from Alex; Unperturbed by the fact that his companions were dead. It leapt at Alex, fangs shining, as Alex fired the gun. Alex felt the weapon shudder as it released the lethal bullet silently. Time seemed to stop for a moment…and then the dog was on Alex. Alex half expected to feel sharp pain as the dogs fans dug into him, but all he felt was warm liquid spreading over his shirt and vest. He pushed the dog off of him. It was dead, mouth still open, with its tongue hanging out, a bloody hole above its right eye. Feeling slightly sick, Alex turned away from the gruesome image and examined the gun. It had a silencer. Sticking the weapon back onto it's holder on his belt, Alex walked over to the other bloody animal corpse a few feet away extracted the knife, which was embedded in the dogs neck.

"Dog gone it." Muttered Alex, as he walked away, surprised at what little regret he felt in killing the five monsters.

slight change of scenes

Inside the cabin, the three captors were ignoring their English captives, and listening uneasily to the silence outside. All three wore ski masks, and looked similar to their captives, but they were in fact very different men. The leader, the one who had threatened Tom, was Mark Getschburg, a German whose grandfather had been a prominent Nazi officer, but was executed by the allies at the end of World War II. The other two were Nikolai Vertroisky, a Russian, and Vernard Helsinki, a Finn. All three were Catholics and all three had good reasons to hate the English and Americans. The three of them met ten years ago when assigned to kill each other. They had been a team ever since. They were hired by an anonymous man, a Catholic who decided that the American author Dan Brown was shaming the Vatican and wanted him eliminated. They had come to this cabin, which was where Brown was supposed to be, but found the group of schoolchildren instead.

Helsinki, the youngest of the three, spoke: "It's been a while since I heard the dogs."

Vertroisky nodded and responded in German, the preferred language of the three. "Ja. Vor ich daß glaube, ich hörte, sie zu bellen wann. Nahm den zurückgebrachten Jungen und sie wen't nach ihm an?"

Getschburg nodded, satisfied. "Excellent. If the dogs did indeed go after the boy, he will stand no chance against them. In fact, we may as well go outside and look for his body, now."

Right after those words were spoken, a loud thump echoed above them and the three men drew their guns, as a cloud of soot blew into the room. Coughing, eyes watering, Getschburg glanced at the fireplace, which had not been lit. A figure stood there, covered from head to toe in soot.

Alex Rider spit out a mouthful of black saliva.

"Ho, ho, ho." He said.

Translation: Yes. I believe I heard the dogs barking earlier. Suppose they went after the boy?