DISCLAIMER: Alex Rider and co does not belong to me, sadly. I'm still trying to bribe anyone into giving me it for Christmas.

CUB: RIDER

Alex Rider hung upside down from a chair staring at the 'bank's blank walls vacantly. He could barely bring himself to refer to this place as a bank after they consistently sent him off to his death time and time again, until he could barely remember how many times it was. Alex checked his watch again, aware that he had been here for a while now. He groaned quietly as he saw that for exactly an hour he had been sat here doing nothing. He may be a spy, but he was a teenager too. He got bored easily.

Alex sighed, swinging himself up the right way. He figured that since they had the guts to drag him into spying the first place and then decided to keep him waiting for over an hour they at least owed him the privilege to look around. He set off down the hall way, swinging his school bag over his shoulders, his trainers silent against the floor. He passed many agents. The young ones scoffed at him, assuming he was a kid of a parent that worked around here. The older ones, who had scars litter their faces, paled slightly, giving him nods. For it was obvious he was the son of John Rider. To them it was like seeing, an admittedly younger version, John Rider walk down the hall.

They had the same dirty blonde hair, brown eyes and facial structure. Even the way they walked was similar; silently and like a ghost. Alex barely acknowledged them, preferring to walk in silence. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He had no doubts that the 'random' hostage situation that panned out in his school was not just some conspiracy. As someone once said to him 'where some see consequence I see conspiracy'. Or something like that anyway, he wasn't going to waste some of his memory on such a quote from someone he didn't particularly like.

Alex has learnt many things in his line of spying, one of these things was wasting hate on those that didn't want to murder you in the most painful ways was merely something you should avoid. It was a waste of energy and thoughts. Sure Blunt had sent him off to his impending doom several times, but its not like Blunt wanted him to die. Blunt liked him alive, however his attitude and defiance towards Blunt was one thing that tested if Blunt actually wanted Alex alive that much. However, it couldn't excuse the fact Alex was the best agent in MI6 and the world (although the last one wasn't told to him). He was trained from a young age making him perfect for spying. After all, he was bred and raised to be a spy.

Alex strolled carelessly through office cubicles and corridors holding offices. It could almost be mistaken for the average office levels. If it wasn't for the guns left laying around on the desks as agents relaxed, chatting about their latest missions to their co-workers. It was almost enough to make Alex scoff. Even he knew that their was moles in every secrets services. As far as he knew any one of them could be in league with a criminal organisation. As far as they were concerned it was safe to talk, because it was MI6. Only the top agents that have dealt with the most extreme cases knew that their words were not safe, no matter what. Then again it may of been a mild case of paranoia that set him on edge around them.

"Hey! Kid! What are you doing here?" A man called, silencing the entire office cubicles. Alex sighed, it was only a matter of time. Someone was going to realise that he was just a kid. Even the thought was bitter. He was old enough to go and risk his life for his country. Old enough to get shot. Old enough to save the world. Yet he wasn't old enough to drive, leave school or even make his own decisions.

"You remind me of someone." An older man mused. He had brown hair, swept to the side. His eyes were icy blue, cold and emotionless. He could be considered handsome. Scars were lightly poised on his face, giving him a ruggish look. "What's your name, kid?" Alex noted dully that all the agents in this office were old. Past the average field work retirement age for an agent.

"Alex. Alex Rider." Alex said. The agent's eyes all widened in disbelief briefly before they managed to reign in their display of emotion. They were sloppy.

"As in...John Rider?" A woman asked.

"He was my father." Alex said curtly, before walking off. He continued walking, not stopping to talk to anyone until he reached a room. It was unmarked yet unlocked, the door open slightly. It seemed curious to him. So he opened the door, slinking in. He took in the scene around him. Filing Cabinets that reached to the top of the room surrounded the room in rows. Each row had a list printed on the side. Alex walked over to one. The list contained names. Scanning over it he concluded that they were listed by surname and then forename as well as being in alphabetical order. Alex kept walking until he reached a list with one name that caught his eye. 'Rider, John'.

He looked around before slipping down the aisle. He walked until he found the filing cabinet with 'Rider' stamped at the top of a drawer. Alex opened it, surprised to see his, Ian's and John's files in there. They laid on top of each other. 3 thick files. Alex looked around a final time before taking all 3 out and shoving them into his school bag. Alex shut the drawer, putting his bag back over his shoulders. He walked out, satisfied with what he had managed to do.

"We're sending your class to Brecon Beacons and telling them who you are." Blunt said...well bluntly.

"I think they figured out who I am after today. Unless they think I got bitten by a spider and they got bitten by a spider. And you know, we all went insane together." Alex mused, already thinking up ideas for revenge on his classmates.

"You will be back with your old Unit and the Units you trained with." Blunt informed him. Alex waved him off with a flap of his hand.

"Okay. Bye." He said, walking out with the files he had managed to snatch. He wasn't going to read them...yet.