CHAPTER 4- No Surprises.

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Alex smiled as he watched the party going on around him. It was Saturday night, and as promised, Mutt and Missy had shown up at his door again. He hadn't flinched when he saw the bruises on her throat. He'd merely grabbed his coat and left with them.

They'd been here for two hours, and he had to admit, he was bored out of his skull. There was music playing, and several people on a makeshift dance floor, while the booze flowed freely. None could be above eighteen, while the youngest appeared to be about thirteen.

He watched them carefully from his perch in the corner. Each one told a story in how they moved, how much they drank or didn't. Unfortunately for him, almost all of the stories were the same. Spoiled rich kids taking advantage of lax laws and being almost untouchable.

He was so intent on watching them, that he almost didn't notice Mutt come up beside him, two drinks in hand. He shoved one toward Alex.

"You must need a refill by now," Mutt encouraged.

Alex nodded and accepted the drink. He had remembered his inhibitors tonight, but was still laying off the stuff. His stomach still wasn't quite right from his last bout. "Thanks."

Mutt nodded, and shuffled his feet. Alex wondered why the charming and energetic young man seemed shy all of a sudden, but then he understood. He grinned. "Oh, and I never got around to thanking you for sending Missy to me the other night."

Mutt coughed. "Do you think you might want her again?" he asked carefully.

Alex laughed and shook his head. "I'm not like you, Mutt. You can only ride the same horse so many times, right? To be honest, yours was a little tame for my tastes."

Mutt laughed now, obviously glad he wouldn't have to send his toy to be so badly damaged again. "Missy will be disappointed, but I'm sure I can think of something to help her get over it."

Alex smirked. "I'm sure."

"So, are you going to sit here all night watching, or come have some fun?" Mutt asked.

"I don't know these people."

And that was all it took. Mutt happily took over the chore of introducing him. Alex smiled, was polite and charming, while mentally taking that list of names and adding it to his observations he'd made earlier.

He was quite satisfied, however, when every time a woman appeared too interested, Mutt would carefully but quickly steer her away from him. He was careful never to interfere if Alex was the one who showed the interest, however mild, but he wasn't exactly encouraging, either.

The night went by quickly, and by the end of it, inhibitors or no, Alex was once again quite drunk. Mutt and Missy again both helped him to his apartment, but this time he entered alone.

As soon as he closed the door, Alex staggered over to the kitchen sink to wash his face. He was definitely going to have to find a way to get out of drinking next time. He was leaning over the sink, his face dripping wet, when he sensed it. Someone was in here, with him. He listened hard, but couldn't hear a sound, not even the whisper of a scuff as whoever was here moved.

He sighed, and without turning around, said, "I knew you'd come to me."

When he didn't get an answer, he slowly turned around, leaning his back against the sink for support as he crossed his arms. Sure enough, Yassen Gregorovitch was standing in his Flat, dressed casually in jeans and a plaid shirt. The man seemed utterly unconcerned with having been caught out.

Alex sighed. "I need to know what happened that night."

Yassen frowned. "I think you already know. That's why you're asking me instead of trying to kill me."

Alex chuckled. "I would think the rather copious amount of alcohol in my system might be taking care of that, too."

"It was very foolish to let your guard down, Alex. If I had wanted to kill you, you would be dead by now," Yassen growled. "Especially since you've made no attempt to hide yourself."

Alex shrugged. "Are you going to stand there shaking your finger at me, or answer me?"

Yassen sighed. Alex watched him move to the couch, graceful and silent as a cat, and sit down. Ah, so apparently this was a social visit.

"Tell me what you think you know," Yassen requested.

Alex frowned. "I don't think you killed her." He scrunched his nose, trying to think. But he was just too tired, too wasted. His stomach was starting to rebel as well. "It's only my crazy theory, but I think that SCORPIA somehow managed to piss of MI6, big time. MI6, in turn, plays nice until they can think of a solution."

Alex took a steadying breath as his stomach lurched, and he was pretty sure it wasn't all because of the alcohol. He had come to this conclusion on his own some days ago, but it hadn't gotten any easier to swallow since then.

"Their solution was me. I'm the only one crazy enough to go after an organization I know nothing about. Unfortunately, what they lacked was a motive strong enough for me to accept. I think MI6 were the ones who ordered the hit on Jack, knowing full well I would go after whoever did it, regardless of personal sanity or peril," Alex concluded.

Yassen arched an eyebrow. "Actually, that's pretty good."

Alex shrugged. "I've been at this a while. I know how the game is played, even if they don't think I do."

"So why come here at all?" The assassin asked.

"Because I needed your help," Alex replied honestly. "I might know the game, but I'm by far not it's best player."

"And what made you think I would help you?"

"I don't, actually. I think SCORPIA will force you to do it if it's in their best interest. I'm more than willing and fully capable of going into that Church in a few weeks and wiping out every single Executive Board Member there. I'm not stupid, Yassen. MI6 might have ordered the hit, but it was SCORPIA that accepted the contract," Alex hissed.

God he was tired, tired of playing games and trying to figure out the rules as he went along, tired of being used by everyone around him. He just wanted it to end.

"And you don't think MI6 might have considered the possibility that you would figure it out?"

Alex snorted. "Of course I did. The one thing you can always count on is Alan Blunt being paranoid. Why do you think I've let Mutt and Missy hang around? I know bloody well they're MI6 agents. Raw out of the recruiting camps, but still agents none the less."

Yassen arched an eyebrow. "You've come a long way, Alex. I'm not sure if your competency in this area is good or bad. I saw what you did to the girl. I have my own surveillance on this building."

Alex shrugged tiredly. "Hey, if Missy can whore herself out for her country, who am I to turn it down? Besides, Mutt would have had a woman in here every night if he could have, trying to figure out what I'm up to. I had to strongly discourage any further attempts."

"You've been playing a very dangerous game, Alex. How did you know?"

"What is this, twenty questions? They screwed up when they said Gieve was her Uncle. The file they sent me on him was too clean, too perfect. A nice old man who couldn't afford to retire. I suspected, but Smithers vouching for the man confirmed it. Besides, his English is impeccable."

Yassen sighed. "So is mine. It's not much to go on."

Alex smirked. "Yeah, and I don't trust you either." He glanced down.

Yassen looked down, surprised to see a red dot appear on his chest as it moved away from one of the red plaid squares onto a black one. He looked up again to follow the angle, and saw a gun hiding under Alex's crossed arm, blending in with the dark color of his shirt, being held at an angle. If Alex had fired, Yassen would have been dead before he'd realized what had happened.

"Very good, Alex. I'm impressed. Your father would have been proud," Yassen admitted, more than a little disturbed.

"Somehow, I doubt he would be. So, are you going to help me take down MI6 or not?" Alex pressed, exhausted and just wanting to get some sleep. It was tempting to never wake up, sometimes. But he had the mission. Jack deserved to have her revenge, and he had sworn to her parents that it wouldn't go unanswered.

Yassen frowned, considering the boy in front of him. This was not the boy he had met on the rooftop months ago. This Alex Rider was cold, calculating, and ruthless. MI6 had managed to build their weapon, but had done so without giving it direction, or instilling any sense of loyalty. Their hit on Jack Starbright had pushed him over the edge and into something they had never known was lurking beneath the surface.

"Are you sure this is a road you want to travel?" Yassen demanded. "There will be no chance to turn back from this," he warned sternly.

Alex laughed, and Yassen detected a hint of hysteria in it. "There never is. You took care of any chance I had when you killed my Uncle. You put me in this situation, Yassen, and now I need you to help me get out of it. However you know my father, I think even if you don't owe me, you owe him that much."

Yassen nodded. "Very well."

Alex sighed, and put away the gun. "Just one more thing. Who got the contract for my Guardian, and where is he?"

"I don't know. But I can find out."

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