AN: Didn't mean to do one right after the other but it is what it is and this chapter just flowed from my finger tips. Enjoy!

In the coming months, the saddest thing to happen was Alastair's old dog Josie passing. Granted she was old and the signs were all there, but it's always a sad thing to bury a pet and both Roxy and Vincent cried some over it. Other than that, life went on per usual until at a point when Alastair was on a mission.

With one other Kingsman agent, they went in to take down a group that had recently succeeded in creating a biological weapon. After taking the people down, they were to destroy the weapon and all information on it. However, it seemed that the mole that had leaked the information had been a triple agent.

The first thought that crossed his mind when it became clear that the group knew they were coming was, Triple agents, always a nuisance, before fighting back and trying to get out of the situation.

However, even a Kingsman agent isn't invincible and besides being overpowered and outgunned, the two agents were surrounded on all sides while the other side had a proper advantage.

Of course, that didn't mean either gave in though, for his efforts, Alastair was finally forced on to the ground after a dizzying punch to the face which earned him a loose tooth.

That would be a bitch to get fixed, he thought.

Then he was suddenly forced upwards and dragged across the ground to a vehicle where a bag was put over his head. At least he wouldn't have to deal with the headache of being knocked out.

When he was pulled out of the vehicle, dragged to some new location, and the bag finally removed, he could no longer see the other agent, Yvain, but instead of wondering about that he focused on his captors. They weren't stupid, that was for sure, and had securely tied him down so that every movement chaffed some part of his skin. The chair was also bolted to the floor and two men kept guns trained on him. If there was even a way out of the situation, it was going to be a terribly tricky one.

Besides the size, build, and most likely physical and mental capacities that he analyzed from the people in front of him, Alastair also felt the continuing pool of blood in his mouth that he'd been unable to spit out or swallow before.

He spit it out now, turning his head and allowing it to spray before finally dribbling down his chin. As tempting as it may have been to do that same movement at his captors, he saw no reason to try and anger them for the moment.

He waited for the words that always seemed to be asked to a Kingsman, whether he was the one captured or he had captured someone else.

"Who do you work for?"

Alastair remained silent and thought about how the entire situation was different from what he was use to. Not the men standing around him with guns and ugly expressions, no that came with the territory of being a Kingsman. No, Alastair was thinking of how it always seemed to be James who got injured, who suddenly went offline, who went AWOL. It was always James who was in some sort of trouble that usually made Alastair worry, made it difficult to function, made him make stupid decisions and become to emotional for his own good.

He couldn't but wonder what James was like now, or if he even knew. He could be somewhere on his own mission and the moment, unable to get intel about the other agents. Or perhaps it was an off day and he was hanging with Lily with no idea of what was going on. Then there was always the chance he was at some HQ, just now reading that their comms had gone dead and that it was unclear what had happened.

Alastair hoped he didn't let it get to him, even though he knew James was an extremely emotional being. Granted, Alastair was not and he often acted the opposite of his usual self when upset, put off, shocked. Perhaps James was being cold, distant. He didn't like that idea, the thought that James wasn't smiling at the moment or making some ridiculous joke. He hoped he was alright—

Alastair's concentration was broken as a fist came down on his face, the one who threw it using the chair as leverage as he slammed into Alastair twice more after his realization of what was happening.

The guy took a step back as Alastair tried to blink away the spots in his vision. When it was clear they weren't going to him again, he slowly moved his jaw, testing to see if it broken anywhere.

"Are you really zoning out on me now? Tell me who you work," the man growled.

Alastair once again, remained silent. Some Kingsman fired back with wit, others retorted angrily. Alastair personally found it best if he just shut up and didn't say anything, only talking when it looked like he may need to distract someone or buy time.

"Alright, you know what? I didn't want you to find out about this but, here it goes," muttered the man, almost sorrowfully.

The door to the room opened and suddenly Yvain was walking through without any guards or cuffs.

Carefully not showing any surprise, Alastair decided that it was ridiculous to think Yvain had sided with the group or had already given information and instead, carefully studied the man's face. Though it was mostly the same face, the structure was slightly off and the hair was parted wrong. Also, the height didn't quite match up with Yvain's.

"That's not him," Alastair responded, keeping his head held hi as he moved his tongue around the blood still in his mouth.

The man that had been masquerading as Yvain growled out, "Shit!" as he tore at whatever lay over his face. It flickered and then turned translucent, revealing a completely different set of eyes and skin tone as the leader just shook his head in disappointment.

"I told you it wouldn't work," grunted one of the men.

The apparent leader just shook his head at that and focused in on Alastair. "You know, most people are to shocked to actually notice it's not someone they know standing in front of them. I'm surprised you got past that. Still, we do have your friend and we can always torture one or the other. Or kill one of you. How does that sound?"

Alastair gave him a carefully considered look, opened his mouth like he was going to answer, and then started with, "One, two, three, five, seven, eleven…"

"What the fuck is he going on about?"

"Uh, I think they're the prime numbers."

"Well that doesn't fucking help us keeping beating him till we get some useful. I'll go see to the other one."

Alastair continued counting until finally he was punched again, so hard that his teeth clacked together. However, after letting out a heavy breath, Alastair started again. "One, two, three…"

"Oh, and one last thing," the leader said right before leaving, "try hitting some areas other than his mouth. We actually need that."