Disclaimer: I do not own any Alex Rider characters. Any mentioned that appear at any time in this story are the property of A.H. Any others are of my own making; and if there are any references outside of A.R series that are real, such as places or people, it is not intentional.

Surprisingly, K Unit took the news well. If well counts for Wolf looking ill and heading right for bed, Snake dry-heaving outside and Eagle pacing. Again. Fox had been smart and had left for the loo. The assassin decided to stay for a while. Bad idea. Eagle started firing question after question. Soon he was fed up and left the building. After Alex had slipped away, he wondered. Now would be the perfect time to escape. Goat and half the soldiers were in the makeshift medic lodge. Probably plotting ways to bring him down. That amused the killer. Many had tried, planning in much more comfortable rooms, possessing far more money and resources. And they had all failed. Speaking of the makeshift lodge, who was the bomber(1) ? How would have the nerve to blow up a medic lodge and a few other assorted buildings? On government property no less. The assassin slipped past the sergeant's office and headed toward the mess. He wasn't trying to escape. Not yet. The time for that would come. The assassin reached his hands and jumped. With practiced ease he walked across the roof of the mess and crouched on the eve. He knew it was a risky position. If he so much as shifted his weight, he would be seen. He froze and mentally steeled himself, ready for a long night.

Mrs. Jones was resting in the back seat. She had not seen the boy in over two years. Blunt had told her to simply offer the option to the boy. He also added that the boy probably wouldn't agree. She didn't see the point in pestering him. The boy, after all, had done very well. Six successful missions and three others not categorized as missions. She remembered the second 'non-mission'. She was glad that Alex didn't have the killer instinct. She snuggled sleepily into her seat. Blunt had kept his side of the bargain. Yes, she decided. Leaving Alex Rider alone for a few years was a good idea.

A car,tipical black with tinted and bullet-resent windows (2), drove through the streets of London, but suddenly made a sharp turn onto M25. Mrs. Jones pounded franticly on the glass divider.

The driver calmly pulled down the widow.

"Yes?"

"Where are we going?"

"To Rider's residence."

"But we passed it! It's on King's Road. Don't tell me you've…"

"So Blunt didn't tell you?" There was no emotion behind the question, but Mrs. Jones saw a flicker of pain in the driver's eyes.

Her voice became a whisper.

"Tell me what?"

The driver cleared his throat. He would try to break this gently. But how? A report -like way. No emotion. It might not go over well. But it would be a clean break, none the less.

"About two years ago there was an attack on Brooklands school. Rider was the target…"

The Sergeant felt tired. Between the assassin's unorthodox arrival, the explosions, the attack on one of his men, he was utterly spent. Bone -weary. He had heard the term before but never truly understood. And now he wished he never did. Mrs. Jones would arrive any moment. How could he tell her that Rider had become a liability? That he was concerned with his men's safety more than anything else? He sank into his chair. He idly read the file. A sheet of paper that he had not noticed before caught his eye. He scanned it quickly. His face paled as he read the other two behind it. This would be considered war crimes if anyone knew. Did anyone know? He was tried, bone-weary before, but now…Now he was shaken to his core.

The muscles in the assassin's back protested as he turned his head. They still had not gotten over his whippings. MI6. Look where it had gotten him. He was hiding in plan sight, scared to say what he truly wanted. At first he had worn the cold front as a mask. Then it had started getting stuck on. He remembered the first time it had gotten 'stuck'.

He was helping unload an expensive and dangerous amount of explosives onto a old van that was probably more dangerous than falling into a running jet engine. At first some of the men had been joking around, and the assassin was simply happy to watch. But as time wore on he began to get annoyed.

"Hurry up!" He snapped.

"Aw, relax. Nothing bad can happen. No one knows we're here. "

Alex felt the mask slip on.

"I said hurry up."

"So I say we don't. What are you gonna do? Run back to the boss?"

"No." The killer's voice was icy. "I will shoot you and leave you and move the equipment that is much more valuable to me. Right now you are very disposable."

The man laughed and sat down on a crate.

"Kid, I'd like to see you try. You can't hit the broad side of a barn."

Alex moved quickly. He whipped out his gun and shot from the hip. The gun was already in its holster before the man fell off the crate.

"Any other questions?"

The men worked silently. And the mask that Alex wore would not come off for days after.

Mrs. Jones felt tears run down her face. How had this happened?

(1) Remember in chapter 7: 'Choices' umm...the medic lodge gets blown up? Yes...Now you remember! Good job! (if not, go back and read the chapter. it will be good for you!)

(2) Nothing is bullet proof. Despite the name, a 'bullet proof' glass can be penatraited. It might take a few shots though...