Hiya, peeps, it's WarOfChange. Just a reminder I made some adjustments to the first chapter (prologue) so check that out in case you missed anything (including the AN) ***I would also like to thank Hope x for being my first review and follow - Thanks dude, you are awesome!*** Also sorry in advance for the lack of action in this chapter, but i needed to explain some things.

DISCLAIMER:I do not own Alex Rider (if only...)

A Mrs. Tulip Jones sat at a large oak desk in a nondescript bank. Gazing out the window she contemplated. She contemplated an enigma. The enigma of Alex Rider. He was just so different and slippery, they couldn't pin him down. So many times she had offered him protection when he so obviously needed it, after all his past would inevitably be his demise, but every time he would walk out of the office without emotion or explanation. Sure, of course, she would use him in a mission again, he was just too valuable- but why didn't he see the reasonable pros behind it?!

Just this morning on the news there was a report of a shooting in an ally not too far away from the 'bank'. The incident was just after 10:00 p.m., not long after Alex had left HQ after another failed attempt to re-recruit him. No doubt the shooters were after him and no doubt he had gotten away.

Over the past few months after the mission in Egypt, MI6 was slowly trying to flush Alex out and make him come to the organization's safety and protection, but ha was too resilient. Young Alex, now 15, was on the streets running from everything all alone. Damn that boy, that stupid boy. Why did he not see reason and come to MI6? After all, they were the only ones left who could protect him now. Jack was gone. Ian was gone. His house was gone. His money and name were gone. His protection and security were gone. Yet still he runs and retaliates.

And so a Mrs. Tulip Jones sat alone, contemplating the enigma of Alex Rider.

Damn, oww, fuck, oww, damn. Breathe, in, out, step, in, out. Alex was hurting, for sure. The men last night really did a number on him - more than usual. After escaping from the ally onto a neighboring rooftop he collapsed behind a pile of ropes too exhausted to try and ensure his escape. Now waking up alive, he kind of assumed the men gave up their hunt or were really mediocre at their job. But with consciousness also came pain, lots of it. Checking his body over he concluded with what little brain that wasn't clouded with pain that he had multiple gun afflicted flesh wounds that were still dripping scarlet occasionally, bruised ribs (maybe broken) blossoming purple and green, cuts and scrapes littering his filthy skin, and a throwing knife protruding from his thigh. How he missed that, he had no idea. after de-blading himself he tore what little fabric of his shirt into bandages and tended to the worst of his wounds dazedly. Maybe he had a head injury too...

Sighing, Alex slowly explored rooftop under the midday sun. As he hobbled along he again questioned his decisions. OK, so maybe absolutely rejecting MI6 wasn't the brightest idea, but he was done with them. Even with Blunt gone they would never stop trying to own Alex. At first it was manageable, a few phone calls in fake sugar-sweet voices and handwritten envelopes telling him to get better soon and to come to the 'bank' whenever he wanted to talk. Then it was a black, sophisticated car that would bring a stoic man knocking politely at his door. none of these were effective for at the time Alex had shut himself in with no plan to come out and deal with MI6. Then there were men with a key coming in to look for Alex. They were very thorough, he remembered, except in the category of looking form trapdoors under rugs, amateur mistake. When those strategies didn't work they, disguised as police, would ambush him on the road during the rare moments he was outside. Though most of their attempts were futile, they did manage to wrestle him in a couple of times. When they did eh would just stare at Mrs. Jones silently as she explained the situation and the benefits of joining them. She ordered the guards away to give the illusion of safely to Alex. Then she would close her eyes and sigh, pretending to be patient. That's when Alex would slip out, completely undetected. Eventually he tried to go home one day after a meeting with the Devil's spawn, only to find his abode burnt to the ground. At an internet-café he found his account and name nonexistent. So he reasoned that if MI6 were going to plat dirty, so would he, be doing exactly what they were doing to him and his only choice. He disappeared.

Alex Rider became a common street-rat. he begged on street corners and stole from markets. He rummaged through trash, salvaged what he could, accidentally scared mothers, and was half starved on a regular basis. But he didn't care, he was his own boss and he had no one controlling him. He was happy.

Unfortunately that did not stop MI6 or his past from recognizing him. Over the past few months, he had been ambushed, chased, and stalked by countless organizations, but still he remained resilient.

But this time, though, this time the bastards really got him. Every other time ha could tend to any other wound ha sustained from his encounters with some assassin wanabes. But this time he was underprepared and caught off guard and damn, did it hurt. Only his mantra kept him going. Breathe, walk, find help... Breath, walk, find help...