After what turned out to be a good twenty minute shower, Alex dressed again, in jeans and a t-shirt that he'd found in the closet. He ran downstairs, where Ashlyn was sitting in the waiting room.
"Felix…?"
Alex jumped. He hadn't seen her. He mentally swore, realizing that he should have expected some sort of guard.
She smiled, her sharp teeth showing. "What's wrong?"
He smiled back. Two could play at that game. "I need to make a personal phone call."
One too-perfect eyebrow arched upwards. "To who, might I ask?"
He shrugged, as though it didn't matter. "An old girlfriend." He lied quickly. "She wanted to start our relationship again, but…" He sighed. "I can't exactly have a steady relationship if I'm an assassin, now can I?"
She smiled again. "I see your point." She indicated for him to leave.
Alex kept walking, trying not to run as he felt her midnight black eyes boring holes into the back of his skull. But when he caught sight of her again, she was reading a book, her eyes showing no indication of ever looking at him.
Ashlyn waited until Alex had left the building before wiping the smile off her face. Her eyes glittered, and she stood, her hands clawed and her expression fierce as she followed him silently.
Alex probably stood there for five minutes, trying to calm himself down before he called. Finally, he pressed the number nine on the phone, then the call button.
He placed the phone to his ear. It rang twice before someone picked up. "Alex?"
Alex sighed. It wasn't Blunt. It was Smithers. He sounded incredibly relieved, and surprised, that Alex was alive and able to make this call. "Put him on the phone." Alex said through clenched teeth.
Smithers let out a sigh of relief, then seemed to realize what Alex had said. He didn't need to ask who Alex meant. "Blunt is a little… busy, Alex…"
"Put him on the phone." Alex repeated, his tone dark.
Smithers sighed. "Give me a minute to transfer the call."
Alex waited in silence as the phone rang once more.
"Alan Blunt." A voice finally said.
"You lied to me." Alex kept straight to the point.
"Alex? How did you…?"
"That doesn't matter, Blunt. You lied to me." He glared at thin air, as though Alan Blunt was standing in front of him. "I want to know why and I want to know now."
Blunt sighed. "What happened, Alex?"
"You mean which one of your lies did I find out about?" Alex was seething. "What else isn't true? Is Sandra Anderson dead already? Was there ever even a Sandra Anderson in the first place?"
Blunt sighed again. "What happened, Alex?" He repeated, his voice a monotone.
Alex realized that his anger wasn't going to get him any closer to the truth, though he didn't accept that realization. "Scorpia doesn't exist anymore, Blunt. I found that one out for myself." His eyes narrowed. "Didn't you think that information might be useful? You want me to penetrate this operation, and you don't tell me who it is? What if I'd called them 'Scorpia?'?"
Alan tried to interrupt him, but Alex was having none of that.
"It's bad enough that you manipulate me, blackmail me, and lie to me, but now you send me into an operation with no idea what I'm looking for, no idea what I'm doing, nothing! This can get me killed, don't you get that?"
"Alex, let me explain…"
"And you act like I'm so 'useful', like you actually need me alive, like I'm actually important! Then you pull this?"
"You've been replaced, Alex."
It wasn't Blunt's voice, though evidently he heard it as well. "Enough, Smithers." Alan said coldly.
"He deserved to know!" Smithers protested.
"I said enough." Alan's voice was soft. "We'll talk later, Smithers."
"No!" Smithers cried out. Alex could hear someone coming into his office, trying to cut off their communications. "Get out of there, Alex! While you still can! Before she-"
He was cut off abruptly. Alex swallowed, his blood running cold.
"Explain." He ordered Blunt.
Blunt sighed. "You're right, Alex. I'm sorry we lied to you."
Alex thought he didn't sound sorry at all.
"However, we believed it was necessary. The less you knew, the better. Ignorance was the only thing that could protect you." He sighed again. "Sandra Anderson is real enough, though that is not her name. She was kidnapped, yes, but then she… well, she became one of them. An assassin."
"And who is 'them' exactly?"
"Depends on who you ask. But the general idea is the same; they're assassins, spies, thieves, basically criminals for hire."
"Like Scorpia."
"Only smaller. Though they're large enough to cause problems. Which is why we sent Project 314 in the first place. It's why we sent you."
"And what is Project 314?"
"You don't need to know that at this time, Alex…"
Alex swore. "The truth, Blunt! Now!"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you."
"Then I can't help you."
"Alex, information about Project 314 simply can't be revealed. I'm sorry."
"I'm meant to protect this thing! I don't even know what it is!"
"You will know when you need to." Blunt said coolly.
Alex sighed, realizing that was the best he was going to get for now. "One more thing. What is Sandra Anderson's real name?"
"Classified. But I can tell you what she changed it to."
"And…?"
"Ashlyn Corby. Her name is now Ashlyn Corby."
Ashlyn watched Alex with narrowed eyes. She saw him close the phone and hurriedly ran back to the waiting room. She wondered how much he knew now. Only what MI6 wanted him to know, of course.
She wondered if he knew about Project 314.
She had the book in her hands long before Alex came in, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
"What did she say?" She asked innocently, though she kept her lips purposely above the sharp points of her teeth as she smiled at him.
He sighed in return, looking at her for a long time before replying. "She didn't take it well."
Her smiled widened. "I can imagine." She raised an eyebrow. "You'd better get some sleep."
Alex nodded, his expression blank as he walked to the lift, pressing the button and walking inside, rising slowly to his floor.
Alex had been in his room and pajamas for a total of ten minutes before someone knocked.
"Who is it?" He asked, getting up, wary as he walked towards the door.
"Felix?" A voice said on the other side. "It's Rose. Can I come in?"
He looked through the peephole. It was Rose, like she'd said. He smiled slightly and opened the door.
She looked slightly stunned by the fact that he'd actually opened the door. "Sure." He said, opening the door wider for her.
She smiled nervously as she walked in. He indicated for her to sit down. She obeyed, and he sat across from her.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Rose sighed. "Well…"
He raised an eyebrow. "What?"
She looked down, chewing her nails.
He smiled. "Drop the nervous act, Rose. You've still got your knife, and to be honest, you don't seem the nervous type."
She kept her eyes glued to the floor for a moment, then smirked and looked up at him. "You're good." She admitted, leaning back in her chair, completely relaxed.
He smiled. "It's why I'm here."
She chuckled. "It's Jerry. I don't like him."
Alex rolled his eyes. "That makes two of us."
She leaned forward eagerly. "You too, huh?" She sighed. "He's too paranoid, but he doesn't do anything about it. Too jumpy, but without the knives and guns that he'd need." She looked at him. "I say we put him out of his misery. Eliminate him from the competition. Make it harder on him tomorrow, in any way we can."
He smirked, playing along. "Now we're talking my language. Sabotage?"
She nodded, her eyes gleaming. "That's the general idea."
He chuckled. "Sounds good."
She held out a hand. "Shake on it?"
He looked at her hand for a minute, as though suspicious, then shook it. There were no tricks, nothing up her sleeve that he could see.
She stood and started to leave.
"Rose?"
She turned around. "Yes?"
"How do I know you didn't offer Jerry the same deal?"
She smirked and walked back to him slowly. "I'm going to tell you something that people learn very quickly when they're near me, Felix. Something very important that you should always, always know." By this point, she was right next to him, leaning down and whispering in his ear.
"You don't know." She breathed, then gently kissed him on the cheek. She smiled as she walked out. "See you in the morning!"
Alex stared after her.
"Ashlyn?"
"Yes?"
Lance came into the waiting room. "Are they all asleep?"
She nodded once. "You have the footage?"
He nodded. "They all did as you thought. Though Felix was the only one who thought to test the shampoo and conditioner. Either he's naturally suspicious or…"
"Experienced. Yes." She turned to him. "He made a phone call to a certain Alan Blunt today."
"Blunt? Did he tell him anything?"
"No. Blunt was the one doing the talking. From what I saw, Felix was pretty furious with him."
"So you think he's Alex?"
"I know he's Alex, Lance. I'm not an idiot. It's the boy they said would 'rescue me' when they sent me out there in the first place." Her black eyes turned cold.
Lance's eyes narrowed. "You do realize that she's here, don't you?" He said suddenly.
She all but fell backwards in shock. "What?"
Lance nodded. "And she's very keen to meet the person who translated her orders. Apparently, she's not too happy with your version of her words."
She turned considerably pale as Lance's hand gripped her arm. "She wants to talk to you."
Ashlyn Corby looked downright sick as she was led away into the other room.
Red flashed in Ashlyn's vision for a split second as the fist connected with her head.
"MI6 sent you, didn't they?" The woman demanded. "Didn't they?"
Ashlyn swore defiantly in Japanese.
The woman nodded to Lance, who lashed out again, sending red dancing across her vision once more.
"Who are you?" The woman roared.
"Ashlyn Corby!" Ashlyn insisted, earning another fist in her face.
Lance cried out in pain, jumping back and clutching his hand in shock. "What the…?"
Ashlyn laughed, a hysterical, insane laugh.
The woman (known only as 'The Director') looked at her, and for the first time in three years, looked surprised. Scared, even. "No." She breathed, her French accent that she kept hidden well returning in her moment of fear. "Impossible!"
The Director came forward slowly, as though Ashlyn was a bomb set to explode. Ashlyn continued to smile as The Director carefully placed a finger on the cut on Ashlyn's head, moving aside the blood.
She took a step back. "Impossible!"
She whirled around to look at Lance, holding out a hand. "Give me a knife."
Lance looked at her, confused.
"A knife, Lance!" The Director ordered.
Lance obeyed, pulling out a knife. The Director snatched it from his hand and whirled around again to face Ashlyn, who was grinning at her with a wild light in her eyes.
The Director walked back over to her cautiously, then aimed the knife at Ashlyn's hand, slicing through the skin.
She stumbled backwards in shock, swearing softly in French.
"What is it?" Lance asked, coming up behind her. His eyes widened as he saw what The Director had seen.
Ashlyn laughed coldly, but it was her words, not her laughter, that sent fear racing in their hearts.
"Project 314 lives!"
