Nile leapt away from the bed and dropped into a crouch, evaluating his surroundings while instinctively grasping the sword propped up by the cabinet, searching for the disturbance that had awoken him.

He felt no trace of embarrassment upon realising it had been the chime of his phone.

Better to overreact than not react quick enough.

Returning the sword to its position, he smiled when he saw Mrs Rothman had contacted him.

You're working too hard.

I've organised a break in the Black Forest for you.

Maybe you could catch up with some old friends, or make new ones.

He frowned, disappointed about being removed from working with clients.

He thought he was only one or two more jobs away from being offered a position as second in command, with the eventual goal of being offered a spot on the Board if one of the members died.

Nile had managed to invest his earnings into ventures outside of the organisation which earned him a steady income. He needed to become a Board member to live long enough to enjoy the proceeds.

Tearing up his Contract had earned him a lot of goodwill with the current members, and fucking Rothman ensured that he would get recommended for the high profile clients. He proved his expertise time and time again, never messing up.

If he thought one "unfortunate" death was all that stood between him and the Board - well, he wasn't fucking Rothman for her good luck and sparkling personality (she had plenty of the former, but none of the latter).

Despite all that, he was still only second best, only earned second rate money (Nile conveniently ignored that his "second rate" earnings were still triple that of the new "recruits", and only 90% of the top earner).

Gregorovich.

In his mid thirties (a geriatric in their profession) and at the stage when his body should have started slowing him down, his name was a legend amongst the other operatives.

"Gregorovich managed to poison the Ambassador despite not being in the same country".

"Gregorovich put a bullet in that tycoon's forehead from almost two miles away".

"Gregorovich blackmailed a mobster's wife to make her kill her husband".

Gregorovich, Gregorovich, Gregorovich.

He was sick of it.

He was embarrassed at the knowledge the old man could have killed him, and had chosen not to.

Had turned away from him, not given him another thought, deemed him unimportant.

Nile had wondered where Gregorovich had come from. He hadn't realised the man was even there until they were fighting, shuriken against heel.

He could grudgingly admit the older man was creative, and he would never be able to look at women's high heels the same way again.

Nile hadn't expected Gregorovich to be there.

No one had - Chase and Three had almost had him killed for even daring to suggest the man had disobeyed a direct order.

They'd changed their tune sharpish once he'd mentioned the name Rider - it seemed there had been some history involving the Riders and Gregorovich he hadn't been aware of, which had almost cost him his life.

Now the old man was on the Board's shit list - or at least Rothman's, and he'd been given (unofficial) permission to hunt him down.

Nile dressed slowly, feeling the familiar weight of the various sheaths, holsters and ammunition belts.

Perhaps, if the runaway Sub was there, he'd… enjoy a taste of the goods.

If the teen managed to turn Gregorovich, he must have been spectacular.

The man wouldn't know what had hit him.


Alex was willing to admit he may have messed up.

Scrap that - he had messed up.

After the incident with the game (the sounds the man had made fuelling a large amount of his "alone time" recently), Yassen would barely stay in the same room long enough to exchange three sentences.

Were it not for the game, and how they had acted around each other prior to that day, he might have thought it wasn't unusual behaviour (whenever the man left the room, he always managed to find something to do in another one).

The man had even started running alone, a change he hadn't been unaffected by, though he'd borne the change without comment.

It was on the third such occurrence, listlessly looking for something to do, that Alex decided to wander down to Ground Minus Three. The stairs on the lower level creaked slightly as he descended into a single room, barely lit by the sun.

The room contained a single cabinet (he wondered why Yassen had so many of them in the house), what looked like a scrap of paper protected by a glass barrier, the sort one might expect to find in a museum, and a framed picture of a document hung on the wall.

He walked over to the glass box, curious to see what might be written on the page (even if there was a low chance of him being able to understand it).

As expected, he didn't. The page's original size was unknown: only a fragment of the top left corner was left, and he guessed that the few bits of writing on the piece were Cyrillic - understandable, given Yassen's origins.

Alex quickly lost interest in the incomprehensible fragment, attention shifting to the document hung on the wall.

Thankfully, it was written in English, though, as he read through it, he grew concerned.

…Work for the organisation…SCORPIA…have until the original Contract disintegrates…can not make attempts to prolong the Contract's lifespan…to have someone fall in love with the operative…pass a test proving the love is genuine…Upon passing the test, the operative can leave the organisation…any attempts to leave beforehand will result in execution…if the Contract disintegrates before the operative has found someone, they forfeit the right to leave…the operative can not tell anyone outside of SCORPIA the terms of this Contract…Any attempt to arrange with someone to pretend to be in love with the operative to get them out of SCORPIA will result in the operative, and the other person's, execution…

Below that was a list of areas an "operative" could expect to work

SabotageCorruptionIntelligenceAssassination (something in his head clicked as too many things started making sense)Drug production / smuggling / distributionMoney launderingHackingHuman traffickingProstitution (to Alex's suddenly upset stomach, the toilet had never seemed further away

The list continued, detailing all major avenues of crime.

Alex blinked, shook his head, trying to separate his thoughts.

There was no way that contract was legal - judging by the list at the bottom of the page, illegal employment contracts were the least of their concerns.

Yassen was probably involved in the assassination part of SCORPIA - but he hadn't killed Ian, had protected and put up with him, and probably hadn't joined willingly (only people with something being held over their heads, or complete nutters, would sign that, and the man didn't seem like a resident of the second category).

He had probably killed hundreds of people - and had managed to survive this long without being killed.

Judging by the piece of paper in the glass box (which he guessed was the aforementioned Contract), the man probably had less than six months left, depending on how fast the remainder disintegrated.

The house was suddenly too small, his thoughts moving too quickly. He needed to get outside, clear his head.

He turned towards the staircase, feet thumping loudly on the stairs as he all but ran up them. A minute later, he was outside, listening to the sounds of the birds and other animals.

Almost without realising, Alex was walking down the path towards the road (compared to London, traffic in the Black Forest was almost non-existent). After fifteen minutes of walking, his mind was beginning to calm.

After a further ten minutes walking, though his heart twisted at the idea, he had decided to talk to Yassen, show him the ins and outs of Grindr (the sounds the man had made when listening to him and Otto hadn't been of disgust, but interest - arousal, hopefully). Maybe he'd find a few dates -

"Nun, nun, nun – schauen Sie, was wir hier haben." (1)


(A.N:

(1) German, meaning "Well, well well - look what we have here." according to Google Translate. If it's wrong, blame them)