Disclaimer: still no word back from Anthony Horowitz. I'm thinking maybe he's going to refuse me the rights of Alex Rider… just maybe.
Reunion.
The plain wooden barracks were exactly the same as Alex remembered them. Plain. No five star accommodation at Beacon Brecons. Even from the door he could hear the grumbling of its inhabitants.
Without any further hesitation he pushed the door open, loud enough for the occupants to notice and turn to look, before striding in, ignoring the glares he was receiving. There was only four bunks and, after a quick glance around, Alex realised Fox wasn't present. There was no way he was just out in the camp – Blunt had said they'd just arrived and there was no pack lying around – so he walked over to the available bunk and dumped his stuff down beside it and sat down on the hard mattress, beginning to sort through his pack whilst waiting for the questions that were bound to come.
"Cub." Alex wasn't surprised that it was Wolf to grind out his codename first. He could tell Point Blanc was merely a détente in Wolf's hatred of him, nothing permanent.
He looked up at the man who was glaring at him but didn't say anything.
"What are you doing here?"
Alex stared back blankly for several seconds before responding, coldly, "Training, I don't tend to come here for the night life."
Wolf growled again, making a small step forwards before stopping himself and turning back to his pack sharply.
Alex took the chance to look at the other two, Snake and Eagle, who were both watching him coldly before they too went back to unpacking.
His pack was soon empty; his most important possessions – the photo album, letter and old gadgets from Smithers – were all pushed under the mattress on his bed for safekeeping. When he finished he headed out to the mess hall, the rest of his unit having left several minutes earlier.
He had no illusions about them, there was going to be no difference from last time, especially if they find out that it was his fault they're back at the camp. But this time Alex knew he could match them, he was just as good as them now quite possibly even better after – though he loathed to admit it – the training from SCORPIA. And this time he wouldn't let them walk all over him.
All faces turned to face him as he entered the mess hall and the talking stopped, the heads swivelling with his movements until he got to the counter and the buzz of speech started up again. He took the slop they placed on his plate and sat at the end of a bench, several seats away from the closest SAS soldier.
His fork began to slowly stir the drivel, 'Nothing but the best for Britain's elite…'
The sound of a chair being pushed back drew everyone's attention but Alex didn't turn around, ignoring the man even when he stood right behind him.
"What the hell is a kid doing here? Someone think this is a family holiday!?!" the man behind him sneered and grabbed his shoulder, yanking it back and forcing Alex to face him.
"Who the hell are you kid!?!"
Alex stared at him blankly for several seconds, taking in the man's appearance. He was taller than most men, not quiet lanky but given another few inches he would be. His muscles were thin, but most likely because he wasn't built to be bulky. His face was narrow, with a pointed chin and a long nose. His eyes were a golden brown, so much so they almost seemed yellow and his hair was near black.
The man glared at him, "Well?"
When Alex didn't respond his fist drew back slightly, about to come back to connect with his face when the door slammed open.
"Heron! Get the hell away from the kid or you'll get kitchen duty for a week. I don't take behaviour like that in my camp! Especially not from rookies like you! I see you doing that again, I'll bin you!"
Heron looked reluctant, but after the threat of being binned, straightened and began walking away, "Yes sir."
The sergeant nodded stiffly before walking to Alex. Several sheets of paper were dropped in front of him.
"You're called Cougar now, not Cub. They gave me your files and ordered that for the first week you aren't allowed to do any physical activities – you can sit in lectures, language courses and I suppose take part in shooting practise – then after the week you'll have a check up and they'll decide if you can start proper training then."
Alex nodded – having already assumed that would be the case – while ignoring the glares from the rest of the soldiers.
"I don't want any trouble from you while you're hear Cougar. The men will give you a hard time but I don't care about that. It's an insult to them that you're dumped with us whenever they feel like it so you're just going to have to suck it up."
The sergeant slammed his hand down on the table on top of the papers, leaning down imposingly over his shoulder so his mouth hovered beside Alex's ear.
"Good work kid."
Alex allowed a faint smirk to grace his lips as the sergeant leant back.
"Get that smirk off your god-damn face!"
Monday morning soon dawned with the natural hatred, though Alex knew each morning would soon be the same. While the rest of K-unit headed off on their morning run, Alex headed to the mess hall while it was quiet. The chef dutifully doled out a pile of fresh slop, this one of the green variety compared to the grey he had received previously.
He ate it quickly, dumping his tray as the members of K-unit – faster than the other units due to their seniority – entered the hall. As the sergeant had instructed he dutifully ignored the taunts from Wolf and returned Eagle and Snake's silence.
Returning to the barracks he pulled out his timetable to find out what he was doing first.
'Shooting Range, then lecture on covert operations & infiltration. Not a high priority from SAS but necessary non-the-less.' He thought to himself as he left the barracks and began to make his way to the shooting range.
It was just outside the camp, several minutes walk away so the gunshots didn't disturb the other sessions. Alex stalked the worn path to the area softly, quiet movements instilled into him from his previous missions.
He reached the main entrance to the shooting range early, ignoring the sneer from the arms master and picked out a Sig Sauer P226 – a pistol used by the SAS in counter-terrorism operations. The gun rested neatly in his hand as his fingers gripped around the handle. Happy with his choice, he went to the furthest empty booth and quickly dismantled and reassembled it just slightly slower than his best with Scorpia. Satisfied that he hadn't lost his touch he flicked the safety off and quickly unloaded the barrel into the targets.
A snort from behind him drew his attention to the observing K-unit, all with matching sneers on their faces. Wolf arrogantly swaggered forwards and pressed the button to draw the targets in.
"Trying to be the next 007, Cub?" he scoffed while Alex remained impassive, confident in his accuracy. With a final derisive sneer, Wolf turned his back to him, as the target came into view. For several seconds Wolf just stared at it before tugging it down from the clips. With his back obscuring their sight, neither Snake nor Eagle could see the target. After several moments Wolf's fists tightened before scrunching the sheet into a small ball and throwing it at Alex's chest.
"As if."
He stalked out moodily and entered the next booth, allowing him to watch through the mesh walls.
Alex quickly loaded and unloaded another round resulting in the same outcome. Content with the results, he swiftly dismantled the gun again and cleaned it off before returning to the armory to get another gun to practice with.
Even after his rather outstanding display with the Sig Sauer P226, subsequently followed by the M4 SOPMOD assault rifle, Wolf continued to taunt him, particularly when K-Unit headed out on a physical activity and Alex found himself left at the camp. For now he had nothing to fill these gaps in his schedule. Within the next few days he would be receiving his tutor and, according to the sheets provided by the sergeant, a psychiatrist. Apparently now he was in MI6's hands he would get the proper deal – the full cover. As if they were setting him up for a future career. Not that he cared anymore, as long as SCORPIA suffered for killing Jack, then he would be content.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he headed back to his bunk to rest, having nothing better to do with his time.
Dinner was a silent event for Alex – not so much for the rest of the mess hall. However after the previous night the soldiers had learnt to ignore him if insulted by his presence, or at least wait until there was no one present who would snitch on them.
Having started dinner much earlier, Alex managed to escape the hall only five minutes after the majority of the soldiers entered. Returning to the cabin he grabbed the military provided towel and soap and headed to the showers, hoping to avoid the majority of shower-goers, not that he would go out of his way to do so.
As it turned out, no one was in the stalls when he entered and he quickly chose the furthest shower, giving him time enough to grab his towel and finish as soon as anyone else entered the cabin.
He quickly stripped, entering the shower while it was still luke-warm and immediately lathering up. He was just rinsing the suds from his hair when he heard the door creak open and another soldier enter.
He flicked the shower off and, hearing another stall door open, chanced opening his to grab his towel.
Unfortunately the soldier was still there and caught a glance of him as he shot back in to dry off.
He ignored the taunting snigger.
"It's alright if you got nothing to show, Cub. You are still a kid after all." The taunt in the two sentences was obvious, even to the most thickheaded person. He ignored that as well.
However he cursed himself when the footsteps approached his stall and he realized his uniform was still out there. He didn't put it passed any of the soldiers to dump it somewhere in the camp for him to find.
As if reading his thoughts, the – as-of-yet unnamed – soldiers spoke up, "You know I could leave your uniform anywhere in the camp, and the sergeant does check that everyone still has two uniforms pretty regularly. Wonder what would happen if he found you had one missing? And of course there's the fact you would have to cross the whole camp nude to get your other uniform… now come out of the god-damn stall Cub."
Finding no other option left to him, he wrapped the towel firmly around his waist and yanked the door open, perhaps more forcefully than he had intended to, to face his current tormentor.
The cocky smirk on the blonde, twenty-something year old was infuriating. He had hazel eyes and tanned skin to complement his hair. And having stripped to his boxers, Alex could see he was pretty in shape, and a reasonably new recruit, going by the lack of distinct scars but slightly bruised body.
After taking all that in, in barely a seconds glance, he looked stubbornly at the captor's face, ignoring the smirk for now. "Well, the camp's a buzz all about you. People say you've been here before. And I think it's about time we got a few answers while you're in a… delicate pos-"
He had traced a contemptuous glance down his naked front, only to stop short when he actually looked at the boy in front of him properly.
His jaw just seemed to stop working halfway through forming a word and he couldn't manage to close it again. Blinking several times, Ferret took another look, unbelieving of what he was seeing. This brat… this kid was literally littered with scars, vicious burns and, unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, a bullet wound. Directly over the heart. Deadly.
This was the kid that was the butt of the camps jokes, their new prey. They all hated this little kid, this punk. Some rich brat sent to their camp to learn a lesson he didn't quite get the first time round. Some teenager who had stepped out of line one too many times and was now forced into a camp he didn't quite fit into.
And suddenly he was the one feeling out of place, the one who didn't belong. This kid wasn't avoiding them because he couldn't take them, but because he had experience none of them did and was probably laughing at their attempts to play soldier. This was a practiced soldier and he felt like the child underneath the piercing glare he was being fixed with. This kid who must be only just sixteen, making a grown man quiver with his gaze. And how unnaturally empty it was. This kid had seen a lot.
The whole camp was stupid, this was the real deal and they were the ones behaving like school kids, laughing and taunting. He had never felt such a fool before.
And then the kid – man, opened his mouth.
"Are you done with my clothes?"
The man before him just continued to gape for several more seconds before nodding, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.
"Where'd you get that wound?" he asked, motioning to his chest.
"Classified."
"You're joking right," for some reason Ferret couldn't stop his mouth running away from him, just too used to taunting this kid even after just twenty four hours. "As if someone like you would have anything classified! And as far as bullet wounds go," he began, trying to sound like he'd seen a lot, "That's quite a nice one. Right over the-"
He was forced into silence as the breath was knocked out of him, "Never talk about that wound again, got it? And no one else is to hear anything about this!" he whispered savagely into the elder blonde's ear. "There's nothing cool, or impressive about bullet wounds, alright? You'll find if you keep running your mouth from now on, people won't take kindly too it. I'm fed up of being treated like I don't belong here. I have as much – more right to be here than the rest of you and if you can't stick that, then there's going to be some problems. The sergeant can't get rid of me, but he sure as hell can bin anyone of you if you start causing trouble. And if you start something with me, from now on, there will be trouble."
Ferret found himself inexplicably nodding erratically, not quite understanding how this young kid could terrify him quite so much. And yet knowing that every word whispered in his ear, dripping with venom, was meant.
The new recruit found he couldn't stop himself from staring as the boy dressed, finally covering his scar-riddled body, before brushing roughly passed him.
The door slammed with a resounding 'thunk'.
I'm not planning on making Ferret an important character - although warning now, a lot of the time things don't go as i plan, so he could very well be here for a while.
I should also mention I just about NEVER have a story planned while I'm writing it. That gets me bored of the story quicker cause i'm just rewriting what's already writen. So I just make it up as I go along instead, hoping it turns out ok.
sorry if this, in turn, causes the story to come out as absolute gash!