Part three of Poison. About the hiatus…yeah, I was busy with a test in Pre-Calculus. It's hard taking the pre-requisite at the same time as Trigonometry, but I have everything back in place. Perfect scores all around! On to the story, and please don't grab those pitchforks...uh oh. *runs away screaming* ~ SamayouTamashi

"Ben, why do you always get to drive?"

"Because you don't have a driver's license yet, and you shoot better."

"We're in Bangkok. I doubt they would care if I was driving the motorcycle."

"Smithers gave you your own gadgets. I can't help if mine are more awesome than yours." He took his eyes momentarily off the road to smirk at a pouting Alex. "At least they gave you a gun, for once."

The spy took the new weapon he had received from the gadgetmaker from its holster on his leg. Smithers said he had handcrafted the gun, and it was evident in the painstakingly sleek black curves and intricate make. The metal coating the outside could repel bullets if he held the gun up fast enough to block, and the trigger was both fingerprint sensitive and fired if he gave the slightest twitch, allowing for a faster reaction time. However what made it more special than the Sig or Colt he also carried, was its capability of shooting nearly any caliber bullet, from a seventeen to even a fifty*.

"True, but Blunt and Smithers still treat me like I don't know what I'm doing some days."

A round of gunfire went over their heads, barely even coming close. Alex raised an eyebrow and fired back. "Speaking of people who underestimate me, were they even aiming at us? Who misses by two feet?"

Ben snorted. "People who aren't you. It's hard to believe, but some people can't afford sharp shooters."

"Yeah well even if SCORPIA can't find the money for better assassins, they shouldn't embarrass themselves this badly."

"You hurt my feelings, Alex. Before I joined up with MI6, I had a worse aim than that guy on our tail."

"How in hell did you make it into SAS with shots as bad as that?"

"Good looks," he grinned to an answering laugh.

"I sincerely doubt that. Get your eyes back on the road!" the teen leaned over his shoulder to avoid hitting a car. "I could drive better than you," he complained.

"But MI6 doesn't know that, thus them giving me the bike."

Alex swung back around on the back of the motorcycle, one hand holding to the side of the seat to steady the heavy recoil on Smithers' gun, jokingly nicknamed the Raven by Ben**. With three sequential shots, two of the cars following them were taken out, bursting into flames as they collided violently with each other.

"And here I thought that you couldn't get fires like that unless you were in Hollywood," he thought outloud. He heard a short click and pushed Ben's head down moments before the shot grazed his hand, right where his partner's head had been.

As the motorcycle brushed the sidewalk, Ben got it back on the road. "You could at least warn me before you pull any stunts like that."

"Where would be the fun in that?" The teenage spy crossed his arms over his chest. "Then here's a forewarning. In five seconds, I'm going to leap off the bike, grab the side of the truck about to intersect our path and get a better shot to finish off the snipers in those two buildings. Ten seconds after that, I'll jump back on and hope you don't kill us both."

This sort of thing happened much too often to surprise Ben at this point, but he couldn't help but say, "Wha-?"

Alex stood on the backseat of the bike on 'four' and leapt for the passing delivery truck by the end of 'five'. With the Raven, he shot the five assassins scattered about the sidewalks and cars, and with the Sig he pulled from his opposite hip, he took down the two snipers. While the Raven was an incredible gun for the instinctive shooting SCORPIA had taught him on Malagosto, the recoil was too difficult to modify for shots that required long-distance aims.

Hitting the roof of the truck, he scouted the surrounding streets as fast as he could, mentally counting down from ten. He almost shot at a flash of silver before realizing it was someone's necklace. The second one was the real case, however, and he took out another car trying to subtly follow Ben.

At 'seven' he holstered the Raven, crouching down to steady himself as the wind threatened to push him off his precarious perch.

Halfway through 'five' he had slipped two smoke grenades from his belt.

Tracking his partner's progress to the opposite side of the truck, he pulled both pins on 'four,' leaving them armed by 'three.'

When the motorcycle was just at the edge of jumping range on 'one,' he threw the grenades to either side and abandoned the delivery truck, grabbing Ben's shoulder as he landed. Smoke erupted from the grenades, covering their escape.

"See," Ben started as if he had never stopped talking, "if you were the driver, you wouldn't be able to pull off these stunts."

"Or I'd just do them differently," he countered.

"…Okay, I have to admit that you'd probably manage to figure something out, but that's not the point. What's the point of you having a partner if I just sit around watching the fireworks?"

Alex paused to think this over as he reloaded the Raven and Sig. "You have a point."

"Exactly! You do all the espionage and shooting stuff, so all I have left is being the driver. I might as well get an awesome getaway vehicle if that's my job anyway."

The teenage spy spun back around to watch the smoke, waiting for someone to figure out where they had gone. He hesitated before saying, "You heard about the news in MI6, right?"

"No, what news?"

"Well, Blunt might be retiring."

Ben spluttered, keeping his eyes on the road by sheer will and concentration. "I'm sorry. He what?"

Shifting his grip on the Raven, he saw his hand shivering despite the warmth of the night. "I haven't talked with Blunt in awhile, but there were some rumors I heard through his receptionist. She mentioned that his behavior had been weird, looking at pictures of his kids and the like with a sort of sad expression."

"He can't retire until you're the legal age, though. That means he still has another year and a half at the very least. You wouldn't be able to replace him, and isn't that the point of making you his deputy head?"

"I know. That's why I was checking up on it." His gaze traveled along the now empty street before he laughed. "It's probably just rumors. Besides, I'm only sixteen. He wouldn't have me take over MI6 this early."

"Yeah," Ben agreed, though looking back and shaking his head. Something felt off about this whole conversation. "So where do we head to now?"

"There's a small port just south of here. A shipment should be shipping to France, and from there we'll catch a ride to London."

"Oh no. Not another month-long boat ride."

Alex grimaced to himself also, imitating his partner. "Yeah. Another one."

"You told me the last time we took a ship that we wouldn't be having any repeats. You promised."

"Well, I meant it but there were some last-minute problems. Unless you wanted to hitchhike back, this was the only other option. Personally, I haven't wanted to go that route since the thing with the Russian mafia***. At least we'll only be on the ship for three weeks."

"Wolf was right," he sighed. "Maybe I should have stuck with the SAS."

"Yes, because they get to sit in the middle of the desert for months at a time," Alex sighed.

"True but at least they don't share have to eat sea rations for two straight weeks and worry about being discovered."

"Haven't we gone through this before?"

"Yeah. So?"

"I give up. Keep your eyes on the road. Company's coming." The shakes in his hand stopped as he aimed at the first target emerging from the fading smoke screen. "Damn, I thought that smoke would last longer."

"If there wasn't so much wind, it might have. We should be lucky it lasted as long as it did."

"That's because I set out two of them to counter that wind you mentioned."

"Oh. Then maybe not." He happened to glance up as he saw an unusual shadow. "Uh, did they have a helicopter last time you looked?"

"I don't think they had one, per say, but they could've gotten one..." he trailed off as he caught on. "Well damn. And here they were supposed to be low on money. Any chance that Smithers built something into the bike, 'cause I don't have any fifty calibers on me."

"Well he did say the handles were something special. Maybe there's something in here." Ben fiddled with the plastic covering the metal, looking for anything out of place.

"Hey Ben, could you hit the brakes for a second?"

"Sure, why?"

"Let's just say you should do it really fast."

Needless to say, he slammed down on them. Artillery rounds blasted the ground in front of them. "I would swear that you're psychic if you hadn't already told me repeatedly that you weren't."

"I don't need to be psychic to tell you that the copter is going to swing back around momentarily," Alex replied. "And twist the handles up. No one would look in the bottom of them, so that's where Smithers would install his gadgets.

Ben followed his instructions, revealing three switches and two small buttons, small lights showing a red light on both sides with a thin clear cover keeping anything from being hit accidentally. "Um, you want to tell me what each of these does too?"

The spy shrugged. "It would be one of the buttons. How many buttons?"

"Two."

He rubbed his free hand against his forehead. "Is there a light beside one of them?"

"Yeah. It's blinking red at me."

"Good. Hit the other one. The new ground to air rounds should be heat seeking, so aim doesn't necessarily matter."

"How do you know its ground to air?"

"I can shoot everything else. Those are the only rounds you'd need."

He flicked the button, covering his eyes as the resulting blast lit up the sky. "Ooo pretty. That was cool. I should be the driver more often."

Alex snorted. "Switch on the other button. Knowing Smithers, he installed it as a tracking device. If they find us before we get to the docks, we might get a free and easy ride home."

"I'm going to send him some flowers and a card when we get back. Anyone behind us, or have you shot them all to pieces?"

"You act like I do that to everybody."

"Don't you?" he asked innocently as Alex leaned back to whack the back of his head. "Ouch."

"I haven't shot you yet."

"Yet?"

"Yet."

"That's reassuring."

"It wasn't meant to be."

"You're so mean. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

Fingering the trigger of his Sig, he watched the flaming wreckage crash into the side of the road. One time not long ago, he might have tried to rescue the gunner and pilot. Whatever mercy he had harbored at the time had been lost somewhere along the road as those he saved came to attack him again. He couldn't even remember when that naïve part of him had died, but any mercy left had disappeared with it. "I dunno. Just tired I guess."

Ben glanced back again. He was going to be talking with Eagle about this when he got back. Eagle's brother was a psych major, and maybe he could explain Alex's behavior.

The teenager had been more…out of it lately. He knew that Alex had changed after the funeral****, melancholy and retreating more into himself than usual, but now he was almost cold. Only on the rare occasion, like the few times tonight, did he pop out of his mood. Even now as he saw Alex watching the road and skies behind them in his rearview mirror, the teen spy would sigh and get that faraway look in his eyes, like he was seeing more than just the vista.

He briefly considered the news of Blunt's 'retirement', but dismissed it. The prime minister and MI5, especially with Jones gaining power, would never let a sixteen-year old become head of MI6 despite how good he was and the experience he had. The government wouldn't be able to handle the scandal that would doubtlessly result.

It was quiet as the only sound on the road was that of the motor. "Did you patch up your hand?"

"What?"

"When you shoved my head down, some of the blood splattered on my shirt. Clean it up before it gets infected."

Alex looked at his right hand, which he had already noticed had resumed shaking, only just now realizing that the blood dripping down his fingers and wrist was his own. He tore a strip off the bottom of his thin shirt, wrapping it tightly around the rather shallow gash. "It isn't that bad anyway."

"Doesn't mean it can't cause problems for you later."

The shaking subsided as he relaxed his grip on the trigger, letting it droop on to the seat but still keeping it aimed straight where the last pursuing vehicles had appeared.

"Turn left at the next fork," he spoke up. "The docks are fifteen minutes going straight down that way."

"Yeah, but I'm hoping that speck over there," Ben pointed one hand to the western sky as Alex followed his finger, straining his eyes, "is someone friendly coming to drag our asses back to HQ."

"We can hope. Keep heading to the docks, though, just in case."

"I figured you'd say as much," he sighed.

To the relief of both spies, the incoming chopper flashed a friendly signal before setting down on the empty road in front of them. To their immense surprise, the pilot waving at them was Falcon.

"What are the chances that I'd see you again?" he shouted over the propellers.

Ben pushed the bike in after Alex, who pulled it in the rest of the way and laid it in the back of the cargo bay. "What are you doing this far east?" Ben asked their pilot once the doors were closed and everyone could at least somewhat hear each other without yelling.

"I've had a pilot's license since I was eighteen, and MI6 said they wanted someone who already knew you guys to respond if you needed backup. Apparently I was at the top of their list. The rest of the guys were jealous that I got to go on break earlier than the rest of them."

"Do they know where you are?"

"Not a clue. MI6 said not to tell anyone, the whole secrecy thingy being kind of important. K-Unit just thinks that something came up at home and I won't tell them about it."

"MI6 is like that," Alex said wryly, and immediately raised the suspicion levels for Ben.

"Who exactly did you talk to from MI6?"

"I have no idea. He had kind of a French accent, though kinda youngish. Sort of like your friend there. Who is that, anyway?"

Alex and Ben exchanged a confused look before remembering that none of K-Unit had seen him since the funeral.

Ben smacked himself in the head and Alex keeled over laughing.

"Am I missing something?"

"We just forgot that you hadn't seen Alex in awhile."

Falcon almost turned around. "What? Hell Alex, that's the best disguise I've seen so far. You've got the voice down too."

"It's not a disguise, Falcon. Smithers wanted to make it look as if I had really died of cancer like my file says, so he messed with some pieces of my DNA to change my appearance and voice. My name's James Bertrand, in a legal sense, now."

Falcon whistled. "That's one way of committing yourself to the world of espionage. I doubt anyone's going to recognize you at all, especially SCORPIA. They'll be looking for a dead man before they realize what you've managed. Little extreme though, don't you think?"

"Yeah, but I have my reasons."

Both Ben and Falcon had to pause at that. There was something more to that statement than they could see on the surface.

"Well this beats weeks in the basement of a ship," Ben remarked brightly. "I can already tell that my week's off to a great start."

"Yeah…about that," Alex coughed.

"Oh no."

"Well you remember how we crossed over to Bangkok from Delhi when we hopped from that other mission to this one?"

"Yeah…"

"Well no one's at the office to do the paperwork right now. Most of them were on holiday last week and this week, Grace and Joshua are out on assignment, and the rest are swamped in their own work."

"Damn. Maybe we should've taken the boat."

A/N: I woke up yesterday morning and thought, "I know how my arc is going to end." For anyone who hasn't seen my profile, the one after this, Façade, is going to be the last one in this arc. I'll go back to working on my crossover and then I'm open to suggestions. I might even look into writing for some other books and mangas I love, including the Dresden Files and FMA (which is more my sister's realm).

I love writing for Alex Rider, but I want something new. Thanks for following me so long, and the last one shouldn't be long in its release.

Note: This still has ONE MORE CHAPTER! It will be shorter, but have a huge cliffhanger to smooth the transition to Façade.

* Let's just say that Smithers is a genius. For anyone who doesn't know, a seventeen is like a Remington or HMR and a fifty is a Desert Eagle or Browning. Basically, it shoots anything less than autocannon ammo, which would be hard to get in any sort of handgun…

** This refers to Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven, the joke being that the raven in the poem brings ill tidings.

*** Goes back to Safehouse.

**** Parts one and two of Poison are before the funeral; parts three and four are after.