Triple Threat
By: Steph (Akers2)
Chapter Three—Year One/ Training Camp from Hell
Six months later
Rain beat down on the tin roof of the small cabin. The tent like, canvas sides flapped in the fierce wind. The inside of the cabin held three metal cots that rested near the cheap wooden floor. There were three, small, metal dressers lined up side by side, all had four drawers. A metal desk occupied the only free space in the tent. Ten yards or so away was the bathroom.
All three beds were occupied. The wind howled and the rain pounded on the tin roof. Thundered boomed loud and fierce overhead with such intensity that the tin roof rattled. Bright forks of lightning lit the dark interior of the tent for several seconds before disintegrating away.
Each sleeping form was sprayed with the constant light mist of rain from the mesh sides of the cabin.
Two of the men slept soundly, they were used to these kinds of living conditions. The third tossed and turned restlessly. He jammed his pillow down over his head. He curled his knees up to his chest. He scowled into the darkness.
He should be home, in London, in his passed uncle's old town house with his house keeper Jack. He should be asleep in his comfortable bed, with blankets that kept the cold out and pajamas that were something more then… something more then what he was wearing. His house would be warm and the windows tightly sealed. The rain would be muffled on the shingled roof.
But no, he was here, in a little thing that could hardly be called a tent. He was freezing cold and wet and uncomfortable. His muscles ached and he was so tired that he wanted to cry.
He never asked for this so why was he here? Why was he here, on a remote island with no company besides to men who were older then him, teachers and drill sergeants?
He wasn't here because he wanted to be, because he had consented to being shipped off here, to somewhere that he didn't even know. Where were they? What countries were near them? He didn't know. He was here because he knew he had no other choice. They might have told him that he had choice but Alex Rider knew better then to believe that by now. He had just saved pointless arguing on his part.
He was being worked into the ground from dawn until midnight. His day started with a four mile run on the running oval that made it all the worse. Running sixteen laps, running around and around and passed the same things over and over, he could handle running in the dense woods that dominated the island but no.
Then he was forced through more drills and workouts then he could handle before he was allotted a fifteen minute break at seven o'clock am for breakfast. Breakfast wasn't much, oatmeal most days, sometimes toast and maybe a scrambled egg.
From seven-fifteen am until three pm he had his studies. Professors that were more suited to be in a college classroom crammed information into his head day after day. They were forcing four years of education into his head in two years. There were also computers and mechanics. Alex had to learn planes, cars, trucks, boats, helicopters, computers; you name it, inside and out.
After that came another fifteen minute break where lunch was served. Lunch consisted of sandwiches most of the time, maybe some chips or soup, a salad or and apple and water, lots and lots of water.
A new sergeant took over from three fifteen until five pm. He worked them through the woods. Sending his trainees over impossible obstacles built high into the trees. He, just like the other sergeants, spared no pity to the teen.
Then at five, Alex was given an hour of free time. Free time was never really free time though. If you didn't do exactly what a professor or sergeant wanted then you made it up in your free time. Free time was merely an allusion.
At six, Alex had target practice. He had to master every gun that was thrown his way. Not only shooting it but assembling and reassembling it as well. He had to shoot at impossibly small marks on trees, in the ground, floating in the ocean, hovering in the sky and he had to shoot perfectly. Dead on.
At seven thirty, there was dinner. Dinner was the only meal of the day that varied but it was still never a steak and mashed potatoes with a Caesar salad.
After dinner they were rushed right back into their training.
At eight o'clock, there was combat. Alex had to not only learn but master every form of on foot or by hand combat there was. He was knocked down more times then he cared to count.
The sergeant that started the day had them again until eleven o'clock. By that time, Alex was all but dead on his feet and he received the most trouble from that sergeant.
For the remaining hour of the night, Alex was sent on 'team building' exercises with Wolf and Yassen, or Hunter as he was now called.
He had roughly four and a half hours to sleep every night before he was thrown back into it. He had been sore and achy since the very first day. There was not enough time for things to heal. He was bruised and battered and had no doubt that he'd pulled something in his thigh but the sergeants gave no mercy from their wrath. Alex had learned to bite back the pain and work through it.
Thankfully, on Sundays they were given the day off. Almost given the day off that is. They still had the first drill sergeant until seven. Then they had breakfast for a worshipped half an hour. Then they had the sergeant that taught guns, they had combat, and were worked through the woods. At twelve o'clock they had lessons in flying planes, helicopters, driving boats, cars and anything else on wheels. From one thirty until the next morning, they were free to do as they pleased which, in Alex's case, was mostly sleeping or staying in the tent. No need to risk running into a sergeant on the grounds. God only knew they wouldn't care if it was Sunday or not.
He wasn't even referred to as Alex anymore. No, he was Cub. He wasn't even a person anymore. He was a robot that was being programmed to do exactly what the all powerful and mighty MI6 wished. He'd lost his individuality and what had been left of his childhood. Even his adventurism had been dampened.
He hated it on the island and loathed everyone there. The only class that was semi tolerable to him was tracking, which was included in the woods course. Sometimes he was let off on his own. But even that was not good enough. Every single nook and cranny of the place was secured with cameras and motion detectors and booby traps. If you weren't in exactly the right pace at the exact time then someone would know. Alex didn't know it, but his every movement was recorded and transmitted to England where Blunt and Mrs. Jones watched him and Wolf and Yassen. They were live entertainment, for want of a better word.
Alex envied Wolf and Yassen with a passion, and yet he loathed them to the pits of hell. If they had any pain they didn't show it. They didn't show their weakness. The sergeants and professors went easier on them and that made Alex despise everyone the more. He knew what they thought about him, he could see it clearly in their eyes every time he saw anyone. He was just a boy, fourteen-years-old. They didn't think he should be there, they didn't want him to be there and they made no motion to hide their thoughts. They were determined to tell Alex just exactly how they felt about him. Alex was insulted and screamed at for countless hours in the day.
He'd never longed for Brookland prep and its laid back schedule or the teachers that showed some emotion and had other volumes besides loud and louder so before now. He missed everything about home but what he missed most was the company of someone his age. He had stuffy professors and drill sergeants and two men that were substantially older them him for companions.
He was meant to be getting closer to Wolf and Yassen but he had never hated, despised, loathed, them more then he did at that very moment as they slept soundly in their beds.
Alex seemed to only drift off for several seconds before the door to the cabin/tent banged open and drill sergeant number ones broad shoulders and very muscular abdomen emerged from the dark, rainy depths of the early morning. He clomped on his feet that were in heavy, black combat boots. He blew the blow horn that he held in his hand and blew on his whistle simultaneously.
Alex sprang upright and then collapsed back onto his bed, wishing for just five more minutes of sleep. Wolf and Hunter were already up and pulling on their clothes for that day.
"GET YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THAT BED, BOY! NOW!" the sergeant thundered as he lent over Alex's head. "I AM NOT HERE TO BABYSIT LITTLE BOYS WHO WANT TO SLEEP! WOULD YOU LIKE TO RUN TWENTY MILES THIS MORNING?" the sergeant roared as Alex stumbled out of bed. "ANSWER ME, BOY!"
"No," Alex mumbled as he grabbed his clothes.
"NO WHAT?" the sergeant yelled back getting right in Alex's face.
"No, sir."
"YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES TO REPORT TO THE OVAL OR YOU WILL BE RUNNING TWENTY!" the sergeant stomped out of the tent and slammed the door behind him.
Wolf and Hunter were already dressed. They walked silently towards the door and disappeared into the rain that still pounded on with a vengeance without a word.
Alex clambered out of the pair of scratchy black sleep pants he wore and pulled on the mandatory black cargo pants. He left the gray t-shirt on and pulled an army green sweatshirt on over his head. He pulled on a pair of thick, black socks and then pulled on the combat boots. He carefully made sure that his pants were tucked into them before lacing them up, no need to give the sergeant another reason to yell at him.
Alex ran a hand through his hair, still not used to the close cut that it had been shaved to upon his arrival and once every month since then. It had gown back slightly since the last cut and stuck out at odd angles at places. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and walked out into the rain.
The rain fell hard and fast and in such thick sheets that it was virtually impossible to see where he was going. Within seconds, Alex was drenched and shivering.
Alex made it to the training oval just in time, only seconds to spare. The sergeant noticed this with furry. The sergeant stood by the training oval. Two dark, blurry figures jogged by, side-by-side. Their strides were quick, powerful and long. They ran in unison, their feet pounding into the puddles that covered the track.
"SLEEPING BEAUTY FINALLY DECIDED TO SHOW US HIS PRETTY LITTLE FACE!" the sergeant yelled to be heard over the rain, he would have yelled even if it had been sunny though. He didn't seem to know how to talk a normal level. "WOLF AND HUNTER ARE ON THEIR SECOND MILE!" he roared in Alex's face. Alex stood still and no emotion reached his face, his eyes were blank and emotionless. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING, BOY? GET THAT SKINNY ASS OF YOUR MOVING!"
Alex trudged through the wet slosh that was grass.
"THIS IS NOT PRESCHOOL, BOY! WE ARE NOT LITTLE GIRLS WHO FROLIC THROUGH THE GRASS WITH THE LITTLE BIRDIES AND MAKE FLOWER CROWNS! PICK UP YOUR FEET AND MOVE!"
Alex jogged onto the track, the muscles in his legs and back screamed at him to stop. His boots pounded heavily into the track that, by that time, had been churned to a mixture of gravel, mud and water. His boots were a muddy mess within minutes.
"MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!" the sergeant roared at Alex. He had appeared at Alex's side seemingly out of no where and was pounding along beside the teen. "WERE NOT TAKING A STROLL IN THE PARK, BOY! MOVE!"
Alex picked up his feet and pounded ahead faster. Thankfully, the sergeant let him go.
The hood had long ago fallen from his head, not that it would have done any use now. Alex was completely saturated and chilled to the bone. Rivulets that were closer to small rivers poured down in his face and his hair was dripping water down his back. He couldn't see more then three feet in front of himself as he ran but he didn't dare break his stride. The sergeant saw everything that happened.
"FASTER, BOY! YOU'RE PRACTICALLY WALKING!" the sergeant's voice filled his head. The voice came from all directions.
Alex ran ahead faster, desperate to escape. But there was no escape. For the next eighteen months, there was no escape.
Alex drifted to the outer edge of the track as he reached Wolf and Yassen. Their stride was still the same, steady and strong. Their legs moved in unison. The sergeant did not pay them as much as a passing glance.
It seemed like an eternity before the four miles were done. Alex, of course, was the last to finish.
The sergeant led them over to the training course set out in the middle of the oval.
His string of angry and harsh and critical words never ceased once as Alex climbed over brick and wooden walls and jogged with his knees to his chest through tires. His hands burned from sliding down wet ropes. Alex sprinted through a muddy ditch, at the end of his sprint waited a pit of thick, oozing mud with barbed wire close above.
Alex got down on his hands and knees. A hard boot stomped onto his back with such a force that Alex had his breath knocked out from him. He landed with a splat in the mud.
"THIS ISN'T GIRL SCOUTS, BOY; A LITTLE MUD WON'T HURT YOU!"
Alex pulled himself through the thick, slimy mud with his arms and legs. Pushing with his knees and thighs and pulling with his arms. The sergeant stamped alongside Alex and his face was splattered with mud. Once he stood again, Alex's front was covered and dripping with brown mud. He tried to wipe some away from his face but his hands were covered in mud and he smeared it across his mouth.
"DO YOU LIKE MUD, BOY? IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS MOVING IT WILL BE YOUR BREAKFAST!"
Alex pushed himself forwards, onto the next obstacle.
The sergeant let them go on time. He spat profanities at Alex's back until Alex disappeared from sight. The two men and one teenager trudged back to their tent in silence.
Alex pulled the completely saturated sweatshirt over his head, mud dripped onto the floor below. The cold air caused him to shiver as he drenched t-shirt blew back against his skin. He pulled it off and whipped all of the mud from his face. He pulled of his boots with difficulty, his hands slid against the slick coating of slippery mud. Finally, he got them off and hurled them at the side of the tent. They made a dull swishing noise as they collided with the canvas wall. Both boots lay in a pathetic heap in the corner, the canvas sheet was streaked with mud.
Once Alex had pulled on a fresh pair of black cargo pants, gray t-shirt and army green sweatshirt he pulled a second pair of boots out from under his bed and pulled them on. He sat down on his bed as he laced them up. Alex shifted his weight on the bed and the only sound in the room was the creaking on the springs.
Alex pulled the long laces through holes and around hooks; finally he tied them at the top in a vicious knot. He scowled down at the ground as he scuffed his boots along the floor.
Yassen and Wolf had already changed and, for once, they had not left the tent immediately.
Alex stood up and noticed that they were still there. A brief touch of confusion crept into his dark eyes before he replaced it all with the scowl that was almost permanently imprinted into his face.
He grabbed the black raincoat from his dresser and pulled it on; he pulled the hood up over his head. He cursed the sergeant some more for not allowing them to wear the jackets during his reign of terror.
"Al- Cub," Wolf spoke up. His voice was deep and calm.
Alex froze, his back turned to the two older men. "What?" he said in a harsh voice.
"Don't let him get to you," Yassen spoke next, his voice accented with Russian. He did not need to specify who the 'him' was.
Alex spun around, rage evident on his face. "And how do you suggest I do that?" he demanded fierily. "He doesn't even bother you," Alex accused vehemently.
"He's only getting on you because you're younger," Wolf pointed out. Alex bit back the sarcastic replies that were on the tip of tongue and settled for glaring at Wolf and Hunter instead. "Just don't let what he says get to you."
Alex remained silent and merely blinked several times.
"Yes," Yassen broke the silence. "He wants to know that his words are getting to you, don't let him have that satisfaction. He knows that it won't work on Wolf or myself, that's why he's not as hard on us."
"Exactly," Wolf seconded. "He'll never let up completely on you but just don't pay attention to his words and insults and criticism and he'll be more bearable."
Alex stared at Wolf and Yassen in shock. "Why are you doing this?" he asked finally. He continued before either man had the chance to answer his sudden and unexpected question. "Why am I even here? I don't want to be here, hell, I'd rather be anywhere else then here! MI6 made a mistake when they picked me to be on this ridiculous mission. I shouldn't be here; I should be back in London, just waking up for school. I should spend the day with my friends; people my own age and learning things that were meant to be learnt at my age. But no! I'm here and I'm learning fighting and guns and more languages then I care to know. I'm learning material that I should be learning two years from now! I'm being shouted at and criticized and insulted every second of the day, being woken at ridiculous hours and being forced through things when it's cold and pouring rain! Fuck," Alex cursed, "he just pushed me down in mud. Teachers aren't allowed to do that!"
"They are here," Wolf cut into Alex's rant.
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Alex agreed tersely. "And that's why I'm quitting. I'll call MI6 somehow and I'll tell them I quit. I'll be home by this time tomorrow. I'll sleep in my own bed in my warm house and eat good food."
"You can't quit," Yassen said quickly.
"Want to bet?" Alex shot back fiercely. "Just watch me."
"What about… Triple Threat?" Wolf asked quietly.
Alex paused, it would have been cool to be apart of it… but no. He couldn't take this anymore, he wanted out and dammit out was what he was going to get. He didn't care what it took but he was leaving that Godforsaken island one way or another. "You two can do it by yourself," Alex said hotly. "MI6 can get another agent to take my place or you can be Double Threat or The Terrible Duo or something."
"They won't replace you," Yassen said confidently.
"Then goodbye Triple Threat, hello The Terrible Duo," Alex said emotionlessly.
"Do you think that they'll actually let you leave?" Wolf spoke this time.
"I don't care what they want me to do!" Alex exclaimed. "I'm leaving and you can just try to stop me," he challenged.
"You're acting like a spoilt brat," Wolf chided.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Wolf shot back. "You're running away just when things get a little tough, more difficult then you are used to. But you know what, Cub? You can't run away from everything. What are you going to do? Return back home and to your school and pretend like nothing has happened? Are you going to just walk away from MI6? Because you may be able to leave MI6 but it will always be apart of you and you know it."
"A little tough?" Alex echoed incredulously. "A little tough?" he repeated with a short, sharp, humorless laugh. "That's like saying that when the Titanic hit the iceberg you're saying the Titanic ran into a spot of bother!"
"We've both had it, Cub," Yassen spoke up. Alex turned to look at the Russian slowly. "Do you think that I haven't had a sergeant like him? Do you think that Wolf hasn't had one like him? We've all had sergeants like him, someone that goes out of their way to make things hard for you. But do you know why he does that? It's not just because he gets pleasure from knowing that his words affect you, it's because he knows that you have talent and he's just trying to show you that in his own way, however sick, twisted and masochistic that way may be. He can see that you have talent, hell; even a blind man could see that you have talent, Cub! He's just trying to make you see that fact for yourself, because honestly, you haven't seen it for yourself yet," Yassen finished his speech.
Alex stood still and silently as he digested what Yassen had just told him. His face was somber.
No one spoke for five minutes. No one needed to, everyone knew what had been decided, and there was no need to say it.
"Come one," Wolf said, stepping towards the door. He swung it open and was met with sunshine. Birds chirped gaily in the trees. Wolf tossed his jacket to the floor and Yassen did the same. "We have five minutes until classes start, I don't know about you guys but I could sure go for some of that mush they serve us right about now," Wolf joked. Wolf flashed a crooked smile that lit up his handsome face.
A similar emotion spread across the Russians equally as handsome face. "I second that."
The two men walked out of the door and Alex was left standing in the middle of the tent.
"Cub! Let's go!" Wolf yelled from outside the door, beckoning for Alex to hurry up. "Second most important rule of being in training, don't give anyone another reason to punish you more!"
Alex dropped his jacket to the floor and stepped out into the sun. The sun beat down bright against his shoulders and the cold that had seeped into him before was warmed.
The three men walked confidently towards the mess hall, talking about nothing of great importance.
Even Allen Blunt and Tulip Jones, who had watched the whole morning on TV's at MI6 headquarters ten thousand miles away in London smiled in triumph. Mrs. Jones smiled widely and while Blunt's facial expression could hardly be classified as a smile it was still close for him.
Operation Triple Threat had finally begun.
a/n: I forgot how much I liked this story! Hope it was okay of a chapter. I swear I'll update DLS soon, later today maybe. Or tomorrow, I have finals tomorrow morning but will get home early. Review! -Steph