A/N: I know, I'm late, yeah yeah. But I'm here now (thank god) and hopefully I'll update sooner next time. (Very unlikely though, it seems all the good intentions in the world can't make me write the next chapters) still, I'm being hopeful.

Just one or two things about this before you read;

1: I'm using quite a few dates in this and I can't quite remember what year Ark Angel was set in so from here on we're all going to assume its 2000 because that's the year 'Stormbreaker' was released and I've based all of the dates on that.

2: I've just seen the movie 'Stormbreaker' yesterday and am feeling very unoriginal in my creation of gadgets. Still, I would like to say that I am not changing it because it's still rockin' and I'm also too lazy.

3: Finally, I might have changed a few facts around to fit my story. I can't remember, it's been ages since I read any of the books.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, it took ages to write.

Luggage, luggage, luggage.

Alex walked from one end of his bedroom to the other. Grey Fox had told him to pack… but what? Well that uncomfortable suit that Cane made him wear was definitely not coming with him. He was sure that there was at least one suit shop in Russia and even if there wasn't, the next time he went out would be with runners and jeans.

In the end, the suit was left in the closet while anything he could run, jump, crawl, climb or swim in was shoved into a suitcase that Grey Fox had supplied. Half way through his attempt to close the suitcase by sitting on it, Cane came into the room; he looked at Alex for a moment, not expecting to find him in that position. He then handed Alex a package, telling him it came in the post for him. Alex took it and examined it for a moment, only opening it when Cane left the room. It was the first parcel that Alex had received since he came to New York so he wasn't going to share that special moment. In actual fact, Alex was baffled as to who would be sending him post. He hoped it was Jack—he missed her unbelievably—but that was unlikely.

Instead, when Alex opened the package, he grinned, recognising who sent it.

The letter read;

Alex dear boy,

What a delight it is for me to have a chance to design something for you once again. My original orders were that I wasn't supposed to construct anything for you to use, but I had prepared a few ideas. I wasn't able to be quite as inventive as I'd have liked; Mrs. Jones assured me that there was no point. I hope you enjoy using them as much as I have making them.

Smithers,

P.S This paper was especially designed so that you could swallow it if you need to—you probably should.

The writing changed.

Dear Alex,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know that you were not willing to come on this mission initially and I must apologise for it. It was, however, necessary. I asked Smithers to provide some aid and I hope this will do. I cannot help you further in this mission; you will have to rely on your own wits from now on.

Be safe,

Mrs. Jones.

Alex quickly checked the back of the page to see if there was anything else written on it. There wasn't, so he quickly dropped the paper and excitedly opened the box to find his prize. The first item he picked up was an ipod. There was a post-it stuck on to it, he quickly read it. It mentioned that the ipod was fully functional and used to relieve boredom apart from when Tchaikovsky's 1812 overture was played—then it would act as an explosive device. The post-it informed Alex that when the song ended, the ipod would explode with the power of C4; the timer could be set from scrolling through the song. Alex turned on the ipod to find a selection of music from every genre, time frame and trend; obviously Smithers couldn't decide what Alex would like. He left the device on the bed and looked back into the package, it almost felt like one of those lucky bags Ian used to buy Alex when he was a kid. The next object Alex picked up seemed to be a black Nintendo DS. Again, a post-it gave Alex the details. The DS was a normal game consol that had a few things incorporated into it. First of all, the top and bottom of the stylus came off to reveal two basic lock picks, one on either side. The memory card was actually a USB stick and when the user went into the user settings and wrote in the personal message screen, "commI6." The DS turned into a communication device, provided the included earphones were plugged in. There was also a game included in the package, which seemed to have little use other than potential for Alex's entertainment. That was then put beside the ipod before he looked into the box again. Next was a pair of sunglasses. Again Alex was informed of its characteristics; it had night vision (which was frankly odd, after all, who would be wearing sunglasses at night) and it also had an infer-red option which showed the different areas of heat around him, just like in the programmes where the animal or person ends up being coloured in various colours, like red yellow, orange, green or blue. Finally, there was a middle sized seemingly led box in the bottom. There was not much of an explanation on the pink post-it apart from it saying that the box was completely invisible to metal detectors and on x-rays. With great curiosity, Alex opened the box and despite himself, he gasped. Even after everything, even after all the missions and the danger he had been through, the one thing MI6 had steadfastly refused to give him was a gun; he had been too young for a weapon like that, plain and simple. So why, Alex wondered as he reached into the box, was there a new and shiny handgun waiting for him to use inside? He picked it up, the gun felt heavy in his hand, it was unfamiliar and cold and was almost awkward. Alex had used guns before, mostly by accident or because they were the nearest things too him, but this was his, it belonged to him. To carry this gun would be to admit that he was prepared to inflict bodily harm on others….

Oh well.

He heard Grey Fox's voice in the distance, asking Cane if he was ready to go. Alex quickly hid his bounty as he heard the mercenary's footsteps coming toward the door and he tried to look natural as the door opened.

"We're leaving in ten." She told him, popping her head in before leaving just as quickly. Alex didn't even have to nod and she had disappeared down the hallway. Taking everything out of its hiding place, Alex packed them away as well, putting them all (except the gun), into a smaller backpack that he'd be able to carry onto the plane. When he was ready, after one final sweep around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, Alex put the backpack on his back and dragged the suitcase out of the room and beside the front door. He met Cane on the way out, doing the same thing, but with a considerably smaller duffel bag.

"You're coming too?" Alex asked in surprise. Grey Fox had said that Cane would be gone as soon as they had finished that job in the bank. Admittedly, the job hadn't gone as either of them had planned, but that didn't explain why Cane was still around.

"Yeah, I've got my own business to deal with over there. Besides, it saves money." He told Alex with a shrug. He turned and then left. Cane's behaviour was a little…aloof. Which was odd, because Cane had a tendency to be quite friendly. Alex shook his head, but didn't have time to ponder the mysterious behaviour as Grey Fox appeared and after expressing her happiness at Alex's readiness, she told him that they'd better get a move on. Grey Fox grabbed her own bags and Cane came back. Grey Fox called Red. The hulk of a wolf trotted unhurriedly over to them and all together they left the apartment.

Alex was surprised.

Initially, he thought he was going to Newark airport. Instead he realised that they were going the opposite direction entirely. Then, he discovered that he wasn't going to be flying commercial. That was the next surprise. Together, it all led him to this current moment in time. Alex got out of the car along with Grey Fox, Cane and Red, and stood, looking at the plane. It was a private plan, like one of the ones he had been forced upon by Mr. Blunt and Mrs. Jones when they drugged him to come over here. This time, it seemed he was going to get the pleasure of seeing what a standard private jet looked like from the outside.

There was a man in a suit standing beside a black Mercedes. He had a scowl on his face and his arms crossed. Grey Fox walked towards him while Cane hung back. Alex followed Cane's suit. He found that was usually the best thing to do—he wasn't familiar enough to know what the proper etiquette was a lot of the time in situations like these and he had learned that however Cane acted, it was probably best for him to do the same. Somehow, Alex had been given a similar social standing as the man. He had no clue how that had happened, but it made his life much easier.

The man and Grey Fox started talking while Red hovered behind his master's feet.

"I'm not happy about this." He said, glancing at Alex.

Grey Fox nodded. "I know James, but I've got no choice about this, you know that."

James nodded. "Yeah, I do. Its lucky that the agency does too."

"They aren't stupid, they understand the threat all of this poses." Alex presumed that here, Grey Fox was talking about the mysterious grey haired man and the arms factories he was involved in.

"Hmm, you may be right, but you're still as disposable to them as I am." James warned.

Grey Fox sighed, "Yeah, yeah, I know; you've reminded me enough times already. Thanks for the plane, and the pilot?"

James nodded. "Is already ready inside. He's just carrying out all the final checks."

"Thank you James, I'll be off then. See you in a few weeks…probably." Grey Fox turned to leave but James started speaking again.

"Wait, I'm supposed to give you this." James handed Grey Fox a small device that Alex couldn't quite make out. The mercenary looked at James in surprise.

"They're keeping tabs on me?" She asked with the slightest hint of indignation in her voice.

James nodded. "You're to contact me every three days and report."

"And if I don't?" Grey Fox challenged with a look of annoyance on her face.

James shrugged. "Like I said; you're as disposable as I am."

Grey Fox nodded and took the device grudgingly. Annoying as it was, she knew James was right. He knew he was right too.

"If you do need any assistance while you're away, just call me and I'll try to arrange something." James told her. He looked at Grey Fox and frowned. "I don't agree with tying your hands like this, but I have to follow orders. I know you understand."

Grey Fox nodded again. "Thanks James, I'll see you around."

"Later." He agreed as he got back into his car and reversed it back a little before driving away.

Grey Fox turned and walked over to Cane and Alex. She walked by them and started to get the bags out of the boot. Cane did the same and so did Alex.

"No wonder you got all of this arranged so quickly. I didn't think you'd go through him, though, I must admit." Cane said idly.

"Time is of the essence." Grey Fox said distractedly as she started carrying her bags towards the plane. Cane looked at Alex who looked back at him. "What?" Alex asked.

Cane shrugged and continued on. Moving towards the plane as well.

It only took a few minutes before all of the bags were on the plane and Alex himself was seated in one of the comfy chairs in the cabin. Red had lowered himself to the ground on the far side of the plane and Cane was looking through a small drinks cabinet down the back of the plane. Grey Fox was up the front talking to the pilot Alex had yet to see. Not that it mattered who the pilot was—once he could actually fly the plane, of course. So Alex was left to his own thoughts for a few moments, something that was a rarity these days. Ever since he had first come to live with Grey Fox and her associates, he had been occupied twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Not that Grey Fox made him work all that much, but she was always doing something that required his attention. She had taught him a lot in the relatively short time he had been with her and he already knew that from thinking back to that conversation he had heard a while ago, that she would have liked for him to be her apprentice. Alex still wasn't so sure how he felt about that. He would be flattered and even tempted to take her up on that offer if she actually did ask him; there was a certain pace to this life that suited him. Maybe it was the fact that it was the opposite of MI6 that he found so appealing, but he certainly couldn't deny that he was having an interesting time—for the most part. Then again, Alex wanted to be normal. He wanted to be with Tom in school, copying his homework or having it copied and daydreaming about stupid things while he looked out the window his English teacher's room. But he was beginning to think that this would be an impossibility for him; he had been so involved with MI6 and its world that he was even starting to see possible terrorists where there was none, possible missions where he wasn't needed. Vaguely he wondered if that had been Mr. Blunts plan all along. Alex wouldn't put it past him, he was sure that it would seem perfectly reasonable to the man considering that he had recruited Alex in the first place and trained him with the SAS. Who does that, anyway? The simple answer was, apparently, MI6. So it was not so difficult to take the next few steps and say that Mr. Blunt had indeed desired for Alex to be their willing little agent. The thought made Alex scowl as anger built up inside of him from his very core. Why didn't they understand that he just wanted to be left alone? He almost growled when he heard Cane approach but quickly shook his head. No, this was unreasonable. He wasn't sure what had just brought on that flash of emotion but it would have been misdirected if he took it out on Cane. Alex decided in that moment that if he ever did have to make a choice between Grey Fox and MI6, either MI6 would have to start making changes, or he would be sticking put with her. It was funny that the whole 'killing people' thing didn't bother him quite as much anymore. But then, maybe that was because Alex realised that Grey Fox wasn't some crazed lunatic who killed people for pleasure. She was a professional who seemed not to be hired for that too much anyway.

The engine to the plan was turned on and Alex could feel the vibrations running up from the floor to his feet and legs. A few seconds later, Grey Fox appeared and sat down on the seat across from Alex. She strapped herself in with the seatbelt and told Alex to do the same.

"We're taking off in a few moments." She told him before giving out to Cane for not putting his own belt on. Cane rolled his eyes and made a sarcastic comment but did as he was told without any delay. They were all silent from then on as the plan began to move and then, after speeding down the runway, took off cleanly from the ground.

About twenty minutes after the plane had taken off, and long after they had all abandoned their seatbelts, Grey Fox looked over at Cane and motioned with a slight inclination of her head for him to leave. He nodded and got up, disappearing into the pilot's cabin. Alex almost pitied the poor faceless pilot; whenever Grey Fox sent him away, Cane became unbearably annoying. Back to the present though, Alex looked questioningly over at Grey Fox, wondering if she wanted him gone as well. He had half gotten out of his seat before Grey Fox shook her head and told him to sit. Alex sat.

"It's going to be very dangerous, Alex. The mission, I mean." She told him.

Alex frowned in confusion. "Um, okay." He said, not knowing what she expected of him. He felt like saying well duh… but it didn't seem appropriate somehow. However, it seemed his initial reaction had been sufficient as Grey Fox nodded in response. She licked her lips as she thought of how she might phrase her next sentence.

"I trust you, Alex." She told him, "You have proven to me that I can and so I do. Trust is very important to me, but it must work both ways. I trust you, and I need you to trust me."

Alex was beginning to get suspicious of Grey Fox's behaviour. What was this about? "I do trust you." He said with slightly narrowed eyes. Was this some kind of test?

But if Grey Fox was keeping score, she was doing a very good impression of someone who wasn't listening. She kept on talking.

"We'll be going onto the battlefield soon, I fear," She continued on, "And when you go on the battlefield the people you take with you are family—no, closer than family—they are people you trust with your life because you put your life in their hands from the moment you reach the drop-off point. There must be a kind of compatibility between the team, a certain pre-existing knowledge of how your teammates will react in and to different circumstances. That is the mark of a good soldier, of a surviving veteran."

"What do you mean?" Alex asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

Grey Fox's gaze met his. "You don't know me." She told him, "I know you, but you don't know me. How can you be expected to trust someone you don't know?" She asked, but Alex, feeling that it was a rhetorical question watched her mutely.

"I want to tell you who I am, Alex, before its too late and we both regret it."

Alex regarded her for a moment. Now this time he was almost sure that he was supposed to react. "Okay, then." He said simply, but it was exactly the answer that Grey Fox required of him. She nodded with a sense of inward satisfaction. She began her story.

"My name is Katia Jaeger, though I've always been called Kit. I was born in Kursk, in Russia in 1977. That makes me twenty-three since last December. My family were the nearest thing to nobility since the Iron Curtain fell down across Europe after the Second World War. Both of my parents were very wealthy and powerful people in Russia, though neither of them had a complete Soviet lineage. My mother was a Kurd. I believe she was born in Syria, but of that, I am not certain. She was a very famous militant for the Kurdistan forces the Peshmerga. She was a sniper who created the women's sniper division of the "Pesmerge Force for Women". My mother single-handedly created and developed the unit and she proved that she and her soldiers were a force not to be reckoned with. She was a very talented woman, my mother…but she was dangerous. Her unit grew too powerful and with it, my mother's arrogance. By the time she was twenty-five she defected from the army and became an assassin for the Palestinian government. She abandoned the name "Layla Shah" and adopted a new alias. She called herself simply "Mata". I assume it was after the femme fatale Mata Hari from World War Two, but who knew her mind? Whatever the case, Mata fell out with her employers—either that or she had found someone who was willing to pay a greater price for her services; my mother was not a loyal woman, but then, assassins tend not to be. The first time she met my father was on the battlefield in South America, they were on different sides of the fence. They both came out of it relatively unharmed but my mother marked my father, giving him a small scar on his torso. Supposedly, when my mother 'marked' someone, his or her days were numbered. My father seemed to be the only exception to this; a year after their first encounter, he asked her to marry him. It was then that they moved to Kursk where my mother gave birth to three children and lived until 1986 when she was shot by another sniper. But I'll get to that later.

"My father's life was a much more difficult one. He was born in Vietnam, though neither parent was from there. My father was a mix; half Russian, half German. His father was the German, who left him with nothing but the name Jaeger—the German word for hunter. Both of his parents died when he was still a young child. They were murdered, caught up in a war between the army and rebels. They were probably mistaken for military and killed as soon as they were seen; I don't know the details. But I do know that he was found by an army official after the incident, who brought him back with him to the army. He was trained and became a child soldier, fighting across the world to where ever he was shipped. He was a deadly hunter, who used to lure his enemies to him by the look of his innocence. He was such a successful killer that he was given the name Andrey Jaeger, translated into English it means "man hunter". My father stayed in his unit until he was twelve when he had to fight against a member of the mercenary group "The Black Dogs". The man was called Garm, which was a figure from Norse mythology, my father impressed the mercenary and he took him back to America with him. He adopted him, took him under his wing and taught him everything he knew. The old man died just a few years ago, I met him once—can't say I like him, he got a bit grumpy in his old age, apparently. But that's not important, they went their separate ways after my father turned seventeen where he joined the U.S Marines for three years. After that he spent some time on his own, freelancing. He was then picked to lead a team of specialists for a governmental operation, and he spent a few months surviving through every kind of hellish battlefield, you can think of. It was in the last of his missions that he met my mother in South America. After he stopped working for the government, my father met up with King and together they created the mercenary's guild. You know the rest from there; he married my mother and moved to Kursk. After that, he worked with groups—mostly. He did some work with MI6 and once, he worked with Scorpia, though not by his own choice; my mother convinced him to do it. He was shot and killed in 1985."

"Both of your parents were shot? And within a year of each other?" Alex asked, surprised. It sounded a bit too coincidental for it to be by chance. But Grey Fox nodded her head emotionlessly; as if it had not happened to her own family but she was just stating the facts.

"As I said, I was born in 1977. It was on my eighth birthday when my father died. He had taken me to the zoo—I had never been before. He bought me a blue balloon. I loved my father very much, Alex. I think I was his favourite. I had two older brothers as well but they favoured my mother and my father didn't get on quite as well with them. He used to say that they were completely different animals to him and me—but I only understood what he'd meant much later on. I'm getting sidetracked… but it was the reason why it was just him and me that day. Because of my family's status within the area, we had a big house; it was practically a mansion on a large estate. On our way back, we walked up the driveway to the house; we had gotten the bus out to the zoo and had walked from the stop. Half way up the drive my father stopped and told me that I had to listen carefully. I did. He took me by the shoulders and gave me small leather bag from his coat pocket. He put it into my hand and told me to look after the contents with my life. I promised I would. Then he told me that he loved me and that he was sorry for me. I didn't know what he meant, but I didn't have time to think about it. Then he told me to run. I didn't. I should have…"

Grey Fox trailed off for a moment, her eyes becoming distant and sad. She licked her lips.

"…It was the first time I had ever seen someone killed. Living with people such as my parents, I had been raised to the sound of gunshots. My father taught me how to use a gun from the time I was able to hold one—and before that, I had been instructed with knives. He was a cautious man; aware of his family's vulnerability and believed in his own mortality. My mother never did. The only things she believed in were money and herself. She was arrogant; she only carried one bullet in her PSG1 rifle when she shot my father."

"What?" Alex asked shocked. Grey Fox's mother had killed her father? Had he heard that right? Apparently so, because Grey Fox rolled her eyes and shushed him by raising her hand.

"Don't worry, it wasn't meant for him." She told him in an exasperated voice, "She missed. My father pushed me out of the bullet's path just in time and he got caught. I had always been the target; my father was just a victim. My mother was sick, you see, in her head," Grey Fox told Alex, tapping her temple, "She loved my father—very much and hated me with the same passion. I think, perhaps, it was jealousy. She was afraid that he would care for me more than her? I don't know, she was crazy; who knows the workings of an insane mind?

"After she had realised what she had done, my mother shrieked like a she-devil. The air was icy and it bounced off of the ground and reverberated around the area. It was terrifying. As my father fell to the ground, pieces of his skull littered around him in a puddle of blood on the snow, I turned and ran. I ran as fast as I could for as long as I could. I ran until I could no longer run and I wore myself out completely. Even then, I kept moving just so I wouldn't have to think about what had happened. My mind was in a swirl—I didn't know what to do. My father was dead, my mother was his killer and there was no way my brothers would help me. I was lost. But I had also been prepared for something like that, as I said; my father was a cautious man. He had told me to go to the nearest safe place where any of his comrades were. I realised this would be my only means for survival; Russia in the winter is so cold that to sleep on the streets would cause death—or at least serious frostbite. So I sought out the only man I knew in the area that my father trusted openly. My house was a few kilometres outside of the city so I had to hurry to get there before night fell and the temperatures dropped even more. Not to mention before the streets got dangerous. Anyway, I arrived on the doorstep, covered in dirt and my father's blood and suffering from a mild case of hypothermia. He was a good man, my father's friend, a very good man. He was a spy for MI6, but he and my father had worked together quite a few times. They knew each other as well as a man can know another man in this life. I had met him once before, so he recognised me immediately. He took me in and I told him what happened. He was horrified. I can't blame him, what happened was… unnatural. He promised that he'd take care of me though. He rang up MI6 and told them the situation. He wanted to bring me back to London with him, to adopt me, or at least look after me for a while; he and his wife were trying for a child, so what was one more? But Alan Blunt would not have it. He ordered that the agent stay in Russia until he was called back. Of course, what could the man do but comply? Still, he kept his word. He looked after me like a father, cooking, cleaning, and even taking time to teach me some schoolwork. Still, that was not what I wanted, what I needed. What I required was the knowledge of how to survive. I wanted to know how to hunt, how to live, how kill. I wanted him to train me as an apprentice. I asked him twice every day for a whole month. Each time he refused blatantly. At the end of the month he asked me why I would want to. Naturally, I had to tell him the truth. I had to tell him exactly what kind of animal my mother was; she would not rest until I was dead. She would hunt me down and kill me like I was nothing but a bug. I didn't want to learn how to kill for revenge; I needed to learn for survival. He still refused me that day. It took another two weeks before he agreed to it, but he did in the end. He spent almost a year training me, though I will admit, he was not always there. Turned out that my mentor did not always follow the rules. His mission in Russia was nothing more than to lay low and be on call. On occasion, he went away for the weekend to visit his wife.

"Seven and a half months later, the order came through for my teacher to pack up his bags and get on the next flight to London. He was going to take me with him despite his superiors order, and I was going to go with him too. But it did not turn out that way. The evening before the flight, I stole a rifle from the agent's collection and snuck away back to my old house. My mother wasn't in. That suited me fine. I went to the same place where she had gone the day she killed my father and I waited. By that time, I had gotten a certain amount of temperature training, my body was getting used to cold and hot temperatures. So I just waited, even after it started snowing and midnight came round, until eventually, a car drove up the drive. It parked in front of the house and she got out with two men I had never seen before. She was drunk; she made it easy on me. I aimed and shot. She died instantly, it was a clean kill."

"You shot your own mother?" Alex asked in horror. "How could you?"

"Yes I did. I do not regret it and I never will. My father died so that I could live. He sacrificed his life for me. If my mother were left alive, she would have found me and killed me. I could not let his sacrifice be for nothing—it would be a wasted life. So I took the pre-emptive strike. Don't worry, Alex, I have already atoned for my sins. That very night, I received my punishment. After I committed the act, I ran. Even though I was a good runner, I was carrying the gun and for a child, guns are extremely heavy. The two men that were with my mother caught me easily. They were surprised that I was the killer—so surprised that they didn't believe I did it at first. But of course, they figured it out and dragged me back to their car. It turned out that both men were from a Special Ops group. I was now an orphan and there was no one who would miss me. I thought I was dead. I believed they were going to kill me. But they didn't. I was taken away. They put me into the children's unit of the army. By the time I killed my mother, I was nine, which means I spent three years in the army. I went up the ranks quickly, I was commander of my own platoon within a year. The life expectancy of the children was usually about six months to a year. I survived three times that and my kill count was so high that everyone knew it couldn't have been because of weaselling my way out of fighting. So a few weeks after I turned twelve, I was pulled out of the barracks in the middle of the night. I was transported hundreds of kilometres away and no one would answer my questions, they wouldn't even talk to me. I had heard about things like that happening; abductions in the middle of the night, though it had always been because the soldier was uncooperative, or doing something that was not permitted. I could not understand why they had brought me out in the middle of the night. I could only assume it was to kill me. Turns out I was wrong. I was dropped off to a military base in the countryside. It was there that I met the man who caught me the night I shot my mother. I discovered that he was the general of a covert experiment and that I was first pick to play a leading role in it. He had been watching me, carefully monitoring my progress since I began and he decided that I was ready to be taken in.

"It was called the 'Les Enfants Terriblés' Operation—The Terrible Children. I was only one of them. There were six of us in total; myself, another Russian, a Slovak, an Austrian girl, a Danish boy and a German. Since we could not communicate in each other's languages, it was decided that we would speak in English. And since we were all beginning a new life, we all changed our names. We called each other the names from the book 'Anna Kerenina'. I was given the name Kitty, but I don't think they knew how close my real name was at the time, then there was Kostya, Stiva, Anna, Nicholai and finally, little Seryozha. We were all hand picked by the General for our abilities. I was picked because of my all round skills and my capabilities as the team's leader. Kostya was picked to be the second in command, he was similar to me, but I was known to be somewhat more 'aggressive' than him. He was Russian as well, and only two months younger than me. Stiva was the Slovak; and at eleven, he was the most trigger-happy person I've ever known. He had the softest blue eyes I had ever seen, but he was just as deadly as any of us; he could shoot the eyes out of a squirrel from one hundred metres away with a revolver if he wanted. His aim was flawless. Then there was Anna. Anna was pretty little thing; she was quiet, very pleasant tempered. She was from Austria, Vienna to be exact. She was the third eldest at the age of ten. Anna used to draw pictures and read books and would hum softly before going asleep; she was that sort of person. Then again, she was also the sort of person who wasn't above blowing people up in their beds. She had gotten her hands on bombs, some time before she was chosen. She used them to blow up a whole hanger in an attempt to escape. Later, it turned out that she had sort of a knack for bombs and she used her creativity to create them. She was tutored, and picked for the team because of this prowess. Nicholai was also ten, though he had just turned. He was very dark, dark hair; dark eyes and he rarely spoke unless it was absolutely necessary. He was our sniper. His skills could beat that of any adult. He had been taken from his parents in Denmark a year previously. Finally, there was Seryozha. Little Seryozha was my favourite. He was the youngest on the team at the tender age of seven—much too young to be on any battlefield. He wasn't even a fighter, he was too young to hold a gun, and too soft to feel apathy to the death around him. But he was necessary for our more covert operations; while he was nothing to write home about physically—not then, at least—our little German was practically a god when it came to anything with wires or circuits in it. The child had a creepy gift that had caught the attention of our superiors and he had been taken forcefully from his family back in Cologne.

"That was our team. And we were demons on the battlefield. We were infamous across the whole world for our success rate and our ferocity during missions. I found Red one day in the beginning and we were allowed to keep him. We became known as the wolf pack—we had no rules, no limits; the only code we followed was that we would never abandon one of our own. And we didn't. To this day, the only thing I value is loyalty. For it to be broken is, in my eyes, punishable by death. We all believed that and we were strong because of it. We became close over the years, closer than siblings. Even now, though I don't often contact them, I could call any of them up and tell them to come to me, and any or all of them would come immediately and without question, just as I would do for them. A bond that is stronger than even that of twins joins us; the bond of survival—it is the strongest one in this world.

"We fought together, lived together and stayed together for five years until I turned fifteen. The program was shut down due to an information leak and we were set free. Most of us were orphans and had no place to go to, but I tried to get Seryozha and Nicholai back to their families. Nicholai came back to us within three weeks of going home, he was miserable with his family; they had expected him to be the same as they remembered, but he was broken by the wars we had been in and haunted by the death he had seen. His family disowned him…or he disowned them, I'm not sure. Seryozha too did not work out with his old family. He lasted a little longer with them, but that was because I made him, I would not take him back at first. I wanted him to be with his family so badly. But it was not to be. He had been taken from his family when he was too young. He had forgotten practically everything about them—about anything before the army. He screamed at night and huddled in a corner during the day. When I went to visit him two months later, he begged me to take him back. I understood then what I had done; I had abandoned him, left him alone with strangers and he was by himself, without his pack. I took him back with me then.

"We were all then sent to America by the higher powers who had initially thought up the idea of Les Enfants Terribles. They may have made monsters out of children but I at least they took care of the mess they had made. We all spent the next six months recuperating, months that were spent with psychoanalytic and IQ tests, along with mental and physical trials. At the end of it, we were not deemed fit to be reintroduced to 'normal' society. We were supposed to rot away in a secure facility, safe from the prying eyes of the public and of the media."

"You're not there now, what happened?" Alex asked with real interest.

"We made a deal. If we promised to stay in touch and report to them once every few months, they would let us make our own way in the world. In return, we would work for them if they ever needed it and before we leave any country, we have to notify them. The man you saw earlier was an agent for it. He's the one who I call anytime I have to contact them. James is a good man, and even though I've always despised having to commit to these people, I like him. He's a different sort to the usual type that gets employed there. He doesn't know the full story, he thinks I am disposable like he is. But that's not the case, I'm just not supposed to tell him, so I don't. Anyway, I've gone off the point. Back to then, after we left the facility, we were sent to the Middle East on a mission. It was there that we gained another member to our group. His codename was Khalid. We called him Jack. He was just another part of the mission to me initially. In fact, I hated him; he was loud, never serious and he could not take orders. He and I fought like animals at first. He would question all of my commands and would never work with the team, often going on without us into dangerous situations that probably should have gotten us killed. He had his own problems, I suppose—he had no one to count on and had to survive on his own, not that I could see that back then. But by the end of it, he proved himself to me, to us. We were on a mission, still in the Middle East. For once, he decided to stick to my plan and follow my lead. The mission was a complete success but when we went to leave, we were ambushed by a group of armed men. Our escape route was blocked and we didn't know if we could find a way out. Jack told us to go on, to retrace our steps and see if we could find a way out. He would keep the men back. To do that would have killed him; you can only get so lucky in a shoot out when you're on you own. But the pack never left one of their own behind, it just wasn't our way. Loyalty is the only thing we've ever believed in. That was the only thing that mattered to us; we didn't fight for ideals or out of obedience to our superiors, we fought for each other. That was what made us different to all the other kids that were destroyed by war. Jack showed loyalty towards us, and so he had become a part of the pack. We couldn't leave him. And we didn't. We fought our way through, most of us received minor injuries; I myself was shot in the leg and Nicholai was left with a scar on his cheek from where a bullet grazed it. But we got through, we survived as we always did and when we returned to home base, we decided to leave the Middle East. We requested that Jack joined our group permanently and he agreed to it. By then, we were good friends. Some time later, when we went to work with the American army, we were sent to Peru. There, we worked to stop the disturbance of the sectarian violence in the mountains. We met Cane there for the first time, and for a while we all worked together until he was sent home for illegally smuggling alcohol to the soldiers and to us. A little while later, we put an end to the fighting but before we could leave and return home, we were given word that there was a group in Brazil that required our expertise. So we were sent to the jungle where there were turf wars between drug barons that were getting innocent people involved. We met up with the group we were to be working with. It turned out, they were MI6—not that they told us. They were under the directives of Alan Blunt; again, I wasn't aware of it. We all spent three weeks together, it was a messy situation, which required a lot more delicacy than we usually had to deal with. It was there that Jack came into his own. He opened discussions between rivalling villages when we weren't working and then when we were, he was just as adept as any of the spies that were working with us. He infiltrated the drug lords' companies and was one of the only ones not to be uncovered and killed. When the time came to move in…it was messy. There was a lot of violence, a lot of death. We were in a dire situation and we needed all the help we could get. It was then we found out that they were agents for the MI6. They told us that they could call for back up, that if we could set up a base and guard it, we would be able to wait it out and survive through it. They called and at the other end of the radio, Alan Blunt agreed to it. We just had to wait, to hold fort and survive.

"We waited. And waited, and waited some more. But the back up never came. Night turned to day and the sun began to set again and still no back up. We spent the whole time trying to fend off the hoards of the drug barren's men who kept coming back with heavier arms. The men called their superiors again after forty-two hours of waiting. And we finally were told that back up wouldn't come, that they couldn't afford to send more men down into a hopeless situation. And so, we were left to die. In the end, we figured we should all just go out, guns blazing. All but one of the MI6 men was killed. Luckily, we all made it out—but just by the grace of some god. The remaining MI6 agent was named Cid Armstrong. He was horrified by what had happened and he admired our loyalty. We asked him to join us, but he was injured in the battle and got gangrene, we had to amputate his leg. After that he practically retired from fieldwork but he kept in the circle. He never went back to MI6 anyway, I think he lives in Nevada now. About a year ago he did work for me but I haven't heard from him since.

"Anyway, by the time I turned seventeen, we all returned from South America where we set into our normal routine of everyday life. I insisted that Seryozha went to school, even though he hated it, I wanted him to experience normal life. It's been a constant goal of mine to get him to leave this life, but to no luck. The rest of us all got normal, everyday jobs. Not that there was anything particularly good out there. Anyway, during that time, Jack and I became… involved. We started going out. I really loved him, you know. It was the first time I had ever felt like that about anyone. Not that it really matters. We spent three years doing small time stuff, the occasional mission but it was quiet enough. I had a revelation during that time. We had survived purely because we had each other, we were a unit, but there were so many children that were left alone after they had experienced war. Even more who had been left to die on a field in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to stop that. I travelled to and fro from South America and other countries where I had met child soldiers. I spent a lot of time helping them to get away from their platoons and to shut down any organisations that used children as warriors. It was then that I started taking in apprentices. Mia was my first one, she chose to stay with me, but I have had many others. I think I made a difference to some people's lives. It was the first time I had done something selfless for anyone outside of the pack. That made me feel good about myself. I was happy. For the first time in my life, I was content with my circumstances; I wasn't bitter about what had happened to us, and I wasn't in fear for my life for any reason. Suddenly, I found that life was good. But these things don't last. They never do."

"What happened?" Alex asked.

Grey Fox let out a long weary sigh. "I got sick." She said miserably with her eyes averted. "It ruined everything. I had to move to a facility in France where a group of some of the best doctors in the world looked after me. It took them weeks to figure out what was wrong with me. Turns out, that I am highly allergic to gunpowder. Ironic, isn't it? Well, back when I was much younger, I had got shot in the chest. The field medic had patched me up as well as he could—he removed the bullet and drained the blood from my right lung and that should have been the end of it. But because the bullet I was shot with was old, it left traces of gunpowder where it had been lodged. The traces were too small for them to take an immediate effect, and too big for them not to be a problem. Over the years, my body became less and less tolerant to the alien substance and it began to reject it. There was nothing they could do, I was told I was dying of allergies." Grey Fox laughed bitterly, "To think that I'm going to die like that, it's ridiculous… Anyway, after that, when they told me nothing could be done, I returned to America. I told the pack what had happened and ordered them to continue on without me; they had been doing missions in my absence, you see. Jack stayed with me for a lot of the time, but he went away sometimes too. He no longer worked with the pack, but was heavily involved in peace talks between different nomad clans in the Middle East. I stayed in New York and began organising things with Hawk. After that, the pack seemed to just… grow apart. I haven't really talked to them in over a year, they keep themselves busy—which is good. Jack was with me until about six months ago, when he went MIA. He's presumed dead at this point, but I didn't want to give up on him, I've been looking for him since he left."

"Was that who was on the picture, the day that Mr. Blunt asked you to teach me?" Alex asked.

Grey Fox shook. "That information was useless, it wasn't even him in the picture. It was just some guy that looked like him. I don't think Alan Blunt purposely did it, but I've never seen that guy in my life."

There was quiet for a moment. Alex thought about that for a second and then frowned.

"But, if you knew it wasn't him…why did you agree to take me on? I thought that was the deciding factor so if it wasn't, what was?"

Considering that Grey Fox had decided to tell him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, Alex was surprised to see that the mercenary was being particularly hesitant. This made Alex scowl in suspicion. He had figured that most of his questions had been answered and that Grey Fox had been fairly truthful to him most of the time while they had been together. But apparently not. Apparently, there was something big that Grey Fox had decided not to let him in on.

She sighed. "Remember the night when we robbed the bank?" She asked.

Alex nodded.

"Well…" She said slowly enough for Alex, whose mind was now racing to think back to that very night. All he could think about was what little she had told him about his dad. And suddenly, with a flash of inspiration, he knew without a doubt, the reason for Grey Fox's hesitancy.

"It's about my dad, isn't it?" He asked her in a dark voice. He could just about feel the anger rise up from the inside. Apparently, so could Grey Fox, because she immediately changed her stance from doubtful and uncertain to defensive and pleading.

"Yeah, it is."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did you lie to me?"

"How could I have told you the truth back then? Before a job? You would have been distracted—and anyway, there wasn't enough time to tell you, if I had gone out and told you I would have had to explain everything or you wouldn't have understood it."

"Understood what?" Alex demanded with his voice rising.

"That your father was…" She trailed off. With a huff, she tried a different approach. "Remember I told you about my mentor back in Russia?"

Alex's eyes widened. "No." He whispered. "That was my dad?"

"He was a good man, Alex." She told him before Alex could get any ideas, "A very good man. It's because of him that I'm alive today."

"He taught a kid how to kill…how many children did he teach?"

Grey Fox shook his head. "Just me. And only after I hounded him. He didn't want to Alex. But he knew it was the only way. He gave me a fighting chance. I owe him everything. When I met you in Australia, it was completely by chance. I had picked up a radio signal from MI6, telling some ship that you would be landing near them. They said your name was Alex Rider and that shocked me. I quickly pulled up a few files on you from the MI6 database and found out that you were working for them. I found what they had done to you. I never got to repay your father and in this life, a debt is a worse thing to have then a death sentence. It goes against our rules, our way of life. It was my own fault what had happened to me. If I hadn't demanded my revenge, John Rider would have taken me back to England. We could have been brother and sister." She told him with a grin. "So your father was not responsible for anything that happened to me. He only did what was best for me."

"It still doesn't make it right…" Alex muttered.

Grey Fox, strangely enough, agreed with him. "No. But neither is it right to make a fourteen year old boy save the world. Or to leave a whole platoon of men in a jungle in South America where they're slaughtered off one by one. It's the world we live in. We have to get used to it. All anyone can do is make a tricky decision in a tricky situation."

Alex nodded. He wasn't happy about what he learned concerning his dad, but it seemed like it was the truth. "So that's why you took me on?" He asked but it wasn't really a question.

"Yes, initially. I also wanted to know you. To see what John Rider's son was like was too much of a temptation. I wanted to see how like him you really were. You didn't let me down either." She chuckled. "But you surprised me also. You are very different to him as well; sometimes I think you could not possibly be related. But then I look at you and no one can deny that you are his blood." Grey Fox quietened for a moment. "I'm sorry I lied to you, Alex. Honestly, I panicked when you asked me. I wasn't expecting you to do it."

Alex shrugged. "It's okay, I supposed." He told her. Grey Fox looked relieved.

"That's good." She said with a sigh, "Since we're getting it all out of the way now, do you have any questions you want to ask me about anything?"

Alex began to shake his head, but stopped and reconsidered. "Tell me about what we're going to do. Tell me about that grey haired man."

Grey Fox shrugged. "I was going to tell you anyway, but now is as good a time as ever. The man in that picture is known as Jackal. He does every amoral thing under the sun. He's mostly an assassin but he has a hand in everything. Obviously, in arms now. We've butted heads for years, we've engaged in battles that left either one of us or both of us near death. His real name is Levka Jaeger; he's my eldest brother. My family is very messed up; none of us can stand each other. The mission isn't a set one. My only objective is to stop him, kill him preferably, and find out what exactly he's doing and how much of it he's completed. That's it. In theory, it's quite a simple one. The only thing I'm afraid of is that he'll be waiting for us."

"And why are we going to Russia?"

"To get information on him and to pick up a few allies. Anything else?"

Alex shook his head. "Not at the moment."

"Alright. In that case, I need you to listen to me carefully. Okay?"

"Sure. Why?"

"Before we go to Russia, we're going to stop over in London, we have to refuel in Heathrow airport. I've told you everything about myself because I trust you. I like you, Alex. But once we get to Heathrow, you're going to have to make a choice; either you can stay with me and we'll continue on with our mission, or you can go home. You'll be free to leave and I won't stop you; I trust that you won't tell MI6 what I have told you. But if you do choose to leave I have a feeling that it will be goodbye for good. The choice is yours; I really am fond of you and I would take you anywhere, but only if you were completely with me. I'm not a tyrant, I don't want anyone who doesn't want this."

"I uh…" Alex started to say, but was stopped by Grey Fox's hand.

"I don't need you to make up your mind just yet. You have at least another four hours before we land. Don't worry, Alex, I won't think any less of you if you choose to leave."

"Okay."

"Good. But just so you know, Alex; I'm not a good person. I have killed people and I have tortured them. I've caused pain to countless people; I've ruined families and destroyed whole communities. At the end of the day, Alex, we're the bad guys. MI6 may do questionable things, but we are the bad ones. Don't ever forget that, Alex, if you do, you'll be no better then the people who killed your parents. Honestly, I think you should go back to MI6…but I hope you won't. Tell me what you think when you're ready. Until then, I'm going to get some sleep."

When she finished speaking, Grey Fox stood up and moved to the other side of the plane where there was more of a lounging chair. Grey Fox collapsed onto it and drew herself into herself and closed her eyes. Red stood up from the back and plodded himself down beside the chair, ever the loyal guard. Alex shook his head and sighed. What would he pick? Alan Blunt? Or Grey Fox? But he never got to truly muse over it, in the end, because despite what he thought, he was extremely tired and he fell asleep.

He was woken up by Cane gently shaking his shoulders. "Yo, kid, wake up."

Alex groaned and then blinked in surprise. He hadn't realised he had even fell asleep. He sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. Cane stepped away from him and gave him some space.

"So, what'll it be?" Grey Fox asked to his side. Alex turned and was about to speak when he got a surprise.

The look of Grey Fox's face startled him into silence. For the first time since he had met her. Grey Fox had no barriers up. Her face showed completely unchecked expression and while it wasn't that she was being completely expressive, she had never looked more vulnerable since Alex had met her.

Alex opened his mouth, "I…" He said slowly. There was no more time for thinking, no more time to consider the pros and cons. Alex looked at Grey Fox and then he caught a glimpse of the outside world through the window. He was on English soil, he was home.

"Well?" Cane asked in suspense.

Surprisingly, Grey Fox didn't say a word, it was as if she knew he had seen his country and felt the pull to return home. Again, for the first time since he had met her, Grey Fox did something else; she looked defeated.

Alex shook his head and opened his mouth to give his final answer.

Okay guys, that's it for now. Hope you enjoyed it. It's a bit of a cliffie, I know, but what the hell, I'll try and write the next chapter quickly. Tell me what you think.