Disclaimer: I don't own Yassen! And I'm sorry it's a bit slow, it will get better!!! Promise!

Yassen awoke next morning with a stiff neck; he had fallen asleep slumped against the passenger door. He eased his aching muscles back to life and opened his eyes, squinting in the bright sunlight. They had stopped moving. Spider was sitting beside him, alert and tense.

"Sleep well?" He asked tersely, Yassen nodded jerkily and looked around him.

They had parked in a large car park above a beach, he could see a distant cliff off to his right, to his left he could see a small town with a lifeboat station dominating the shoreline.

"Where are we?" Yassen croaked. His mouth was dry as sandpaper. He forced saliva into it as Spider answered.

"Sennen Cove."

"Where?" Yassen repeated. Spider's mouth tightened impatiently,

"Sennen Cove," he snapped, "we're about a mile from Land's End." Oh, Yassen looked again at the tiny village.

"And this is where SCORPIA send their trainees? It's dead," he said scornfully. Spider looked at him distastefully, he hated having to take the trainees here, they all thought exactly the same as Yassen did.

"Yes," he said, his voice suddenly lower and much more threatening. "This is where trainee assassins come. If you don't like it, then tough, because you're staying here until they want you on Malagosto." Yassen sat back, temporarily subdued.

"Fine, where am I staying?" he asked brusquely, looking all around him.

"There," Spider said, pointing. "Ask for Terry." Spider got out of the car and opened Yassen's door. Yassen got out and followed Spider to the back of the car. In the boot was a large suitcase. Yassen heaved it out and looked questioningly at Spider.

"It's clothes. They should be in your size. There are a couple of…other things in there too so don't open it until you're in the room. Good luck." With that, Spider got back into the car and drove off, Yassen watched him out of sight, suddenly feeling strangely lonely.

Yassen dragged the heavy case across the car park and into the hotel that Spider had pointed out to him. The building was painted white with wooden beams showing through in places. He caught the name as he passed the sign, "The Old Success Inn". Yassen pushed open the door and made his was up a thinly carpeted stairway, the suitcase bumping loudly against the steps. He rang the bell on the desk and glanced around the office. A young man came out from behind a door and walked over to the desk.

"Can I help you?" he asked, looking Yassen up and down with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm looking for…um…Terry," He said, leaning forwards against the desk.

"Yeah? Who said anything about Terry?" the man was suddenly obstructive, and his eyes glinted suspiciously.

"Spider told me to ask for you. Spare me the theatrics and give me my key." Terry scowled and unhooked a key from one of the hooks.

"You're in room eleven." He said, pushing the key into Yassen's hand, "You've been paid for as long as you stay here. Someone will call for you tomorrow morning to take you to breakfast." Yassen nodded and made his way across the large lounge; he opened the door on the far side and made his way up to his room. The room was reasonably sized, a large double bed was set against one wall and a door opened into a small bathroom.

Yassen dropped the huge suitcase on the floor and sat on the bed. He could hear the waves breaking softly on the sand, just fifty yards away. He tossed the key onto the duvet beside him and slumped backwards.

When he woke, hardly aware that he had slept at all, the sun was starting over the sea. Yassen guessed it was about three o'clock in the afternoon. Pangs of hunger gripped his stomach and he rolled reluctantly off the bed and left the room, slipping the key into his pocket. Yassen walked out of the hotel and set off down the road, looking for a place where he could eat. He had a little money; Spider had given him some to ensure he wouldn't starve before the next morning. A fish and chip shop filled the air with the distinctive smell and Yassen followed his nose to the counter.

Once he had got the paper wrapped package Yassen set off the other way and wandered down to the beach. He sat at the top of a large rock and watched the tide coming in as he ate. The sun sank lower, setting the sky and water on fire, for the first time in months, Yassen felt himself start to relax. This place may be dead, but it was exactly what he needed.

Far off by the cliffs a couple walked hand in hand, Yassen watched them jealously, that was the worst thing about his future job, there was no space for a love life, love clouded your judgement and gave you a weakness. But he still wished that he could feel that way, just once. Most seventeen year old boys had girlfriends, but he had no one, not even a normal friend. At least not here, a couple of friends back in Russia but they would have forgotten him by now. Yassen had never felt so lonely.

He tore his eyes away from the couple and jumped off of the rock. He landed in water, the sea had come in dramatically while his mind had been elsewhere and the water was up to his waist.

He swore loudly in Russian and started wading through the choppy water. It was freezing cold, despite the pleasant day it was still December. By the time he reached the shore, Yassen couldn't feel his feet; he was shivering violently and hoped fervently that the hotel had towels.

As he walked stiffly up the beach, a faint movement caught his eye, a person had been sitting at the top of the hill and they had just got up. Yassen watched as their silhouette disappeared from view. He shook himself and jogged up the slipway. He slipped guiltily through the front door and raced up to his room, thankfully the key was still in his pocket and he let himself into the room.

He stripped and stood in the shower, feeling himself coming back to life as the hot water poured over his body. He took the opportunity to examine himself, the bruises on his arms had faded slightly now, but the largest one, covering half his chest, was still dark purple, giving him a painful reminder of his time in Moscow. When he came out he wrapped the towel around his waist and pulled the curtains closed. He turned back and walked over to the black suitcase on the floor; he heaved it onto the bed and flicked it open.

As Spider had said, it was full of clothes, which were about his size. In the middle of the case there was a gun and ten boxes of rounds. He ran his eyes over the short barrel and ribbed stock, it wasn't a very good looking weapon but it would do. He picked it up, feeling the perfect fit and realising that it had been made for him. Yassen pulled a shirt aside and saw another weapon, this was a knife; he flicked it open, eyeing the broad blade with a practiced eye.

He nodded as he closed the knife. He was satisfied with the weapons and the clothes. He lay back on the bed; his melancholy mood had sapped his strength.

At seven, Yassen went out again; he had changed into blue jeans and a white shirt with a black jacket. He wandered along the pavement looking out at the faint white tops of the waves. He sat for a while on a bench before wandering slowly back to the hotel, he ordered a salad at the restaurant in the pub and ate quickly. He didn't want to have to sit there alone, people were staring at him.

As soon as he had eaten, Yassen left the pub; he felt out of place here and wanted to be alone. He almost laughed, just hours before he had wished that he didn't have to be alone and now he was actually seeking solitude.

Yassen hesitated at the door, wondering which way to go, he turned right with a vague idea of climbing the hill he had seen earlier. As he reached the mouth of the path at the far side of the car park he had woken up in that morning a young woman came into sight.

"Hi," She said, flashing him a brilliant smile before brushing past him and moving down the path. Yassen turned to watch her go before setting off again, he ignored the steep steps leading up the hill and followed the path that the girl had come along. Yassen watched the ground, following the girl's footprints. The air carried the sound of the waves breaking but he couldn't hear anything else, there was no traffic on the road and the night air was still.

As the sky darkened further from navy to black, Yassen turned back and tried to follow the path back, unfortunately the footprints were now hidden in the darkness. Yassen cursed himself for not paying more attention and looked all around, his eyes scouring the night for a sign of civilisation. Nothing, even the waves seemed to have abandoned him, he couldn't hear them any more.

He tried to retrace his steps, but it was impossible to do in the darkness and he soon gave up. He groaned loudly and sank down onto the floor. He cradled his head in his arms.

"Hello…is someone there?" Yassen jumped and stared around, a white light was shining from around a corner. He got to his feet and came down onto the path, shielding his eyes with his arm, while holding the other hand in the air.

"Yeah, I got lost. Sorry if I scared you." He raised the other arm as the woman lowered her torch.

"Don't worry about it," She said "Why are you here?"

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.

"Well, you're not from around here are you? Your accent is Russian, I think, or German…? I'm not sure but you're definitely not British." Yassen cursed silently but hid his emotion.

"I'm Russian, look, how do I get back to town?"

"Keep the sea on your right. I might see you around." Yassen nodded and set off, suddenly able to hear the waves again. He hoped that he wouldn't see the woman for a second time; he didn't want any friends here. Within two minutes he was within sight of Sennen, he had been so close. From there it was easy and he was soon back in the hotel. He didn't want to sit alone in his room so he curled up in an armchair in the lounge.

He was curious about the person that he was going to meet tomorrow, he wondered what they were for, how would they help him? He mused on this for almost an hour, at ten he finally unfolded his body and went back to his room.

He pulled off his jacket and jeans and fell into the bed. He turned the lamp off and was instantly asleep.