Author's note:

And again...

CONTENT WARNING: Violence, language.

I intended to get the story a bit further in this chapter so it doesn't feel stuck, but then this got so long that I decided to split it and post this part now. More is to follow soon I hope :D


Alex's body was trembling uncontrollably. His skin was clammy, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat and his throat burned with the rawness of the water that had been forced into his lungs.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain and exhaustion pulling him down into a dark void where the world around him faded away. In those brief moments when he managed to slip into the darkness, there was a strange kind of peace, a numbness that dulled the agony and fear. But each time he began to fall into that darkness, he was forced back by sharp commands and loud noises.

He slipped under again, feeling the calming presence of the darkness, until he felt rough hands grip his shoulders, shaking him violently back to the harsh reality of the room. This time, he hadn't responded to their shouts or loud noises. In some distant corner of his mind, Alex knew he should be concerned about that.

"Stay awake," the guard shaking him barked, his voice cold and unforgiving. "No passing out on us."

Alex tried to respond, to muster the strength to fight back, but all he could manage was a weak groan. His body ached, every muscle and joint screaming in protest as he was roughly propped up against the wall. He could feel the bruises forming on his body, his wrists raw from the cuffs that he had pulled in panic during the torture. His head lolled to the side, his vision swimming as he tried to focus not to throw up from the dizziness welling inside of him.

He felt the guard slap his face hard and he gritted his teeth. "Stay awake Rider!"

Alex opened his eyes to look the man in front of him. He couldn't stop the tremors that ran through his body, couldn't control the few tears that welled up in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He felt a deep, crushing sense of despair, a hopelessness that threatened to consume him entirely. Why wouldn't they let him rest? Just for a little while.

The guard leaned in closer, brushing Alex's hairs off from his forehead in almost gentle manner causing shivers run down his spine. The guard's smile widened, a cruel twist of satisfaction playing across his lips as he took in Alex's tear-streaked face.

"What's the matter, Rider? Starting to break, are we?" The guard's voice was dripping with mockery, each word designed to cut deeper than the last. "Not so tough now, are you? All that bravado, all those defiant words, where did they go?"

Alex stared back at him, his vision still blurry, but he forced himself to focus. He felt the tremors still wracking his body, but he fought to suppress them, to push down the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. The guard's words were like knives, twisting in the raw wounds of his psyche, but Alex wasn't ready to give them the satisfaction of seeing him completely break. He had to gain his composure. The guard's taunts and close proximity got adrenaline course through Alex's system again, clearing his mind.

The guard placed his hand on Alex's shoulder, squeezing hard. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe that last round was a bit too much for you? I sure hope we get to see that again. Quite entertaining, I must say. Seemed a lot of fun."

Alex felt the guard's fingers dig deeper into his shoulder, the pain sharp and unrelenting. But it gave him a new focus point, it helped ground him again and as the discomfort flared, he managed to pull himself together, finding a sliver of strength buried deep within his battered mind. His gaze, though still foggy, sharpened, and he locked eyes with the guard. A flicker of defiance sparked in him, and before he could second-guess himself, the words slipped out.

"Yeah, it was fun. Having the time of my life," Alex muttered, his voice raspy but carrying a hint of sarcasm. "Hope you get the same experience some day."

The guard's smile twisted into a scowl, and his grip on Alex's shoulder tightened painfully. "You think you're funny, don't you?" he snarled, leaning in so close that Alex could smell his breath. "Let's see how funny you are when you're screaming for mercy."

Without warning, the guard released his shoulder and brought his fist down hard into Alex's side, right where the knife wound was. The pain shot through Alex's body like a lightning bolt, and he couldn't stop the gasp that escaped his lips. But he refused to give the man the satisfaction of a scream, biting down on his lower lip until he tasted blood.

"That'll wipe that smirk off your face. You better stay awake now, or there'll be more where that came from," the guard sneered, standing up straight and stepping back. He gave Alex one last disdainful look before turning on his heel and walking out of the cell, slamming the door shut behind him.

For a few moments, Alex sat there, pain radiating from his side making it hard to think. Slowly, he allowed himself to take a few deeper breaths, each one steadier than the last. The pain was still there, sharp and relentless, but it was something he could push aside, something he could use to fuel the fire that had been reignited within him.

Alex leaned his head back against the wall. The fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface, but now it was accompanied by something familiar, a small, stubborn part of him that refused to give up. He had to keep that flicker of resistance alive, even if it was the only thing he had left. It had gotten him through these things before.

Alex forced himself to stay conscious, to keep his mind from slipping into the comforting darkness that beckoned him. He knew that the brief rest was nothing more than a cruel illusion, a momentary pause before the storm.

And when the door to the room creaked open, Alex's heart skipped a beat. He didn't need to see who it was to know that his reprieve was over. Alex felt his breaths starting to come in shallow gasps as he braced himself for what was to come.

Walker entered the room with a sense of authority that made Alex's skin crawl. Behind him, two new operatives trailed in, their expressions hard and unreadable. Walker glanced at the huddled group of teens with a smirk, as if their fear was something he could savour. But his attention quickly shifted to Alex, who was leaning against the wall, his clothes wet from before, stained by blood, bruises on his face but still having that air of stubbornness around him that Walker wished to crush. But Walker noticed with joy, that this time, Rider was avoiding his gaze. Maybe the boy was not so tough after all.

Walker started to walk towards Alex's cell, his steps echoing on the space. He was keeping his pace deliberately slow. Relishing the moment as he saw Alex's composure crack a little bit by each of his steps. "Enjoying your break, Rider?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Alex didn't respond, his gaze flicking up to meet Walker's for a brief moment before sliding away. There was a hardness in his eyes, a stubborn resolve that made Walker's anger flare. Walker opened the cell door and enjoyed the sight of Alex's every muscle tensing up on his presence. He walked closer, noting that the other prisoners were also looking at him with trepidation.

"You're lucky, you know," Walker said, crouching down so that he was at eye level with Alex. "I gave you a little time to rest. You'll need it for what's coming next."

At this, Alex's eyes flashed with something like fear, and Walker felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. But it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that same grim determination. "It's over for you", Walker added, leaning in closer, his voice a whisper that only Alex could hear.

Walker straightened up, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. "Petrov! Quinn! Get him up," Walker ordered, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

The two guards that had been watching over them past hours moved quickly, roughly grabbing Alex by the arms and hoisting him up. Alex bit back a cry as pain shot through his body, his ribs screaming in protest. His injured foot, already swollen and bruised, gave out beneath him, and he stumbled forward, barely managing to catch himself as the guards dragged him upright.

Walker stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "You're coming with us," he said. "Hawthorne wants to see you. Try anything, and one of your friends will pay the price with their life."

Alex didn't respond, his mind racing. He knew he had no choice but to comply, yet each step felt like a knife twisting in his side. His foot throbbed with every movement, and he could feel the wound on his side starting to bleed again. Every breath was a struggle, but he forced himself to keep moving, limping and relying on the guards holding him up for support.

But Alex also knew that this was his chance. He had been up all night, and while he still had had some coherence and sharpness in his mind, he had come up with a plan. A desperate plan but it was all he had. And he needed to get out of his cell to get an opportunity to take his shot.

As they made their way out of the cell and across the room, Alex's eyes flickered to the floor. He remembered the sharp objects that he had tried to avoid the last time he was walking across this room on his socks. But this time, he was scanning the ground with new resolve. The dull glint of metal caught his attention—a sharp, thin piece of wire half-buried in the dirt. It was barely noticeable, but to Alex, it was an opportunity. A dangerous, uncomfortable one, but an opportunity nonetheless.

Without hesitation, he shifted his weight and deliberately stepped on the wire with his injured foot. The pain was immediate and excruciating, a sharp, searing agony that shot up his leg like fire. He felt the wire pierce through the sole of his foot, embedding itself deep within the already tender flesh.

Alex gritted his teeth, the taste of blood filling his mouth as he bit down hard to keep from crying out. His vision swam, and for a moment, he thought he might pass out from the sheer intensity of the pain. But he couldn't afford that. He had to stay conscious, had to keep moving, no matter how much it hurt.

Walker noticed the stumble and turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Having trouble, Rider?" he asked, his tone laced with mockery. "Or are you just looking for an excuse to slow us down?"

Alex forced himself to stand upright, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Just... a little... sore," he managed to choke out, his voice strained but steady. He locked eyes with Walker, determined not to show any more weakness than he already had.

Walker's gaze lingered on Alex for a moment longer but then he motioned for the guards to continue, and they dragged Alex forward again, each stumbling step a fresh wave of agony as the piece of wire twisted deeper into his foot.

They made their way outside and through the yard. Reaching a building, that Alex guessed was the centre of the operation. They made their way through dimly lit corridors, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold walls. With each agonizing step, Alex felt the wire dig further into his foot, but he kept his expression as neutral as possible. He couldn't afford to let them see how much pain he was in, not now.

The journey felt like an eternity, but finally, they reached a door that would obviously lead them to their final destination. Walker stopped and turned to face Alex, his expression unreadable.

"This is your last chance to cooperate," Walker said, his voice low and threatening. "Hawthorne doesn't have much patience left. If you know what's good for you, you'll tell him what he wants to hear."

Alex remained silent, his jaw clenched as he met Walker's gaze. He knew what was coming, knew that whatever waited for him on the other side of that door would be meant to break him. But he also knew that giving in was not an option. He had to hold on, no matter what it cost him.

Walker gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, then turned and pushed the door open. The guards tightened their grip on Alex's arms, and together they forced him into the room, where Hawthorne was waiting.


Jaguar watched in silence as Alex was dragged out of the building, the echoes of the boy's strained breathing and shuffling feet lingering in the air after the door slammed shut. The musty air felt thick in his lungs, and the stench of sweat and dirt clung to everything around him. His mind was racing, filled by the shock of everything he had witnessed. He had been through tough situations before, he had been in service for three years before applying to SAS after all. He had seen his own share of horrors around the war zones, but nothing had prepared him for this. Being locked in a cell while a teenager was tortured right in front of them. It was a nightmare he couldn't wake up from, a situation so twisted and wrong that it made his stomach churn.

He glanced over Raven and Snake. They were silent, their expressions as grim and disturbed as his own. They had all seen what happened to Alex, had heard the sounds of his suffering. Jaguar could see the tension in their bodies, the same helpless frustration that was gnawing at him. They were trained to fight, to protect, but here they were, unable to do anything but watch as a kid was dragged off to God knows what kind of fate. Snake was staring at the door that had closed behind Alex as if he could wish the boy to return.

Jaguar reached out and placed a hand on Snake's shoulder, offering what little comfort he could.

"He'll come back," Jaguar said, his voice steady but low.

Snake nodded sharply and swallowed hard. It seemed like he was trying to bite back tears and Jaguar felt bad for the man. As twisted as it was, the boy who had been dragged away, bruised and bloody, was one of Snake's unit members after all.

"Yeah, but in what shape?" Snake whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He was trying to hold it together, to stay professional, to distance himself from the horror they'd just witnessed. But it was impossible. He was shaken by the events and he still felt guilty of how he had treated Cub during selection, ashamed that he had ever thought the kid was just a joke.

From the next cell, the voices of the school kids broke through their grim thoughts.

"What's going to happen to him? Are they going to kill him?" Liam's voice was small, trembling as he looked to the adults for some semblance of hope.

Viper, trying to maintain a calm facade, shook his head. "No, they need him. They won't kill him. Trust me."

But the reassurance did little to comfort Liam, who was beginning to cry, his frame shaking with fear. Henry, pale and clearly fighting his own emotions, wrapped an arm around Liam, trying to offer whatever comfort he could.

"I want to go home," Liam sobbed, burying his face in his hands.

Henry tightened his hold on him. "I know, Liam. I know." His voice was soft, strained, as he tried to soothe the younger boy. The words felt inadequate, but they were all he had to give.

The other kids looked on with sympathy, each one feeling the same desperation, the same overwhelming urge to break down. The situation was spiraling out of control, and now their fear was fed by the uncertainty of what was happening to Alex. As awful as it had been to witness his torment, at least they had known where he was and what was happening. With Alex taken away, their minds filled the void with the worst possibilities, imagining all the horrors that he could be going through.

Ellie wiped tears from her face with the sleeve of her shirt, her voice trembling as she spoke. "I still can't believe it. That Alex was part of something like this, and we had no idea. Assassins, spies…and Walker said he'd been waterboarded before. By the CIA. I mean, what is he mixed up with? It's not right."

Will, sitting next to her, shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe it either. And I've been such a jerk to him," he admitted, his voice cracking with a muffled sob escaping his lips.

Sam was sitting next to Will and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Remember, one breath at a time."

Viper's heart ached for the kids, all of them on the verge of breaking down. None of them should have had to witness this, should have been put through this hell. They were just kids, thrown into a world of brutality and violence that no one should ever have to experience.

"They'll bring him back," Viper said softly, though he wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure them or himself. "We just have to hold on."

The silence that followed was heavy with tension, as they all waited for the door to open again, for Alex to be brought back to them. They didn't know in what condition he would return, each of them hoping for the best and fearing the worst. So they waited, every passing second stretching into an eternity, each one filled with the desperate hope that Alex would come back, and that somehow, they would all find a way out of this nightmare together.


As Alex was pushed into the room by Petrov and Quinn, his foot screamed in protest, the wire embedded in his sole sending fresh waves of agony through his body. He bit down hard on his lip, quickly scanning his surroundings, trying to take in every detail. The room was dirty, covered in dust, a molding carpet was spread on the floor causing the air to be thick and smell damp. The walls were bare, painted a dull gray that seemed to absorb any warmth in the room, making it feel even colder than it actually was. At one side of the room was a large desk with one black leather belt and a taser ominously placed on it. The sight of them made Alex's stomach grip with fear. Two chairs were placed in the middle of the room and Alex immediately noticed Hawthorne sitting in one of them.

The man sat with straight posture, dressed in an expensive tailored suit that looked out of place here in the middle of decaying building. He had his black cane leaning on one side of the chair. The two bodyguards Alex had seen last night were standing behind him looking at Alex with detached expressions on their faces.

Hawthorne's cold eyes fixed on Alex. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the sight, the boy was disheveled, pale and barely able to stand on his own. For a moment, there was silence, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife as Hawthorne and Alex were locked in a silent battle of wills.

Hawthorne turned to look at the bodyguards standing behind him. "Hold him," Hawthorne instructed with a chilling voice

The two men moved quickly, reaching Alex, and in an instant, they had him restrained. Each of them taking a steely grip on one of his arms holding them in place behind his back. It was more a show of power, Alex decided, since his hands were already cuffed behind his back in the first place.

"Take off the cuffs", Hawthorne said to Alex's surprise and soon he felt the smallest of relieves when the handcuffs came off his aching wrists.

"Make sure he doesn't move," Hawthorne continued, standing up and moving to face Alex directly. His cold eyes bored into Alex's, and the threat in them was unmistakable. "We're going to have a little chat, Rider. And I want your full attention."

Alex tried to pull back, to create some distance between himself and Hawthorne, but the bodyguards held him firmly in place. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears as he fought to maintain his composure.

Hawthorne stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. He reached out and gripped Alex's chin, forcing Alex to look directly at him. The touch was firm, almost painful.

"You're in no position to resist," Hawthorne said quietly, his voice calm but filled with a dangerous edge. "You've been through a lot already, I know. But so much is yet to come. You're going to tell me what I want to know, one way or another."

Alex's breath hitched, his throat tightening. The room seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing in as the weight of the situation settled over him. But even through the haze of fear, he forced himself to hold Hawthorne's gaze, refusing to show the terror that gnawed at his insides.

"I've already told you," Alex whispered, his voice hoarse but steady. "I don't know anything."

Hawthorne's grip on his chin tightened, and Alex winced at the pressure and squeezed his eyes shut fighting against the pain. "You're lying," Hawthorne said, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "And we both know it. But that's alright, Alex. You'll talk, eventually."

Hawthorne released Alex's chin, stepping back slightly, but his gaze remained locked on Alex, as if he were studying him, evaluating just how much more it would take to break him completely. "Take off his shirt," he commanded with cold and unyielding voice. A new wave of terror washed over Alex, but there was nothing he could do. Pinned in place by the steely grip of Hawthorne's bodyguards, he could only watch as Walker approached, a cruel grin spreading across his face.

Walker grabbed the hem of Alex's drenched shirt, his grip firm and sure. For a brief moment, Alex felt the pressure on his arms ease slightly. It was only a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Alex to decide to take one last futile attempt to escape this. Alex lashed out, grabbing Walker's arm with one hand and bringing his knee up in a desperate attempt to push the man away.

The impact was solid, and Walker grunted in surprise, momentarily thrown off balance. But his hold on Alex's shirt was ironclad, and as Alex tried to shove him further, the fabric tore, the sound sharp in the tense silence of the room. Walker recovered quickly, his face twisting into a snarl of anger. He grabbed the piece of clothing again, ripping it from Alex's body with a rough, forceful motion that left Alex stumbling.

The torn shirt fell to the ground, and Alex was left exposed, his chest heaving with the effort of his brief struggle. The cold air hit his skin, causing him to shiver involuntarily, but it wasn't the chill that made his blood run cold. It was the look of triumph on Walker's face and the feeling of exposure.

Hawthorne's eyes roved over Alex's now-bare torso, and a faint smirk played on his lips as he took in the sight before him. The bruises that mottled Alex's skin were vivid and darkening, stark evidence of the brutality he had already endured. There was dried and fresh blood covering his other side, bled from the knife wound under his ribs.

Walker stepped back, his gaze fixed on the damage he had inflicted, as if admiring his handiwork. "Look at that," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "I didn't even realize I'd been so thorough."

Alex sent Walker a poisonous look and clenched his jaw tightly as he forced himself to stand as tall as he could manage. Every breath sent a stab of pain through his side, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing him crumble. "Don't give yourself too much credit. Some of it was already there."

Hawthorne stepped closer again, his cold eyes scanning the bruises. "You're a stubborn one I see," he said, almost as if he were speaking to himself. Alex noticed Hawthorne's bodyguards closing in, their presence suffocating as he was unable to stop them when they grabbed his arms again.

Hawthorne studied him for a long moment, as if trying to assess the extent of his resolve. "But you've reached the end of your rope, Alex." Hawthorne continued, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of threat. "There's no more playing games. Now, you're going to tell us what we need to know."

Alex swallowed, his throat aching, the fear and exhaustion starting to take over. "I don't know anything."

Hawthorne's expression didn't change, but there was a slight tightening of his jaw, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "You're lying again," he said flatly. " I don't care how long this takes. I'm in no rush. You have information that we need, and I will get it out of you."

Alex's heart pounded in his chest, each beat sending a fresh wave of fear through his veins. He knew that whatever was coming next would be painful. Another kind of torture for him to go through.

Hawthorne stepped in front of him, his cold eyes narrowing. "Do you realize how much pain you're inviting by continuing to resist?"

Alex swallowed hard, his throat dry. His mind raced, thoughts were spiralling as he tried to find a way out of this. "I swear. I'm telling you the truth. I don't know anything. I was here with my school."

Hawthorne's expression darkened, a flicker of anger crossing his features. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I see. But I guess, we just have to be sure."

Hawthorne walked up to the desk where the lonely belt and the taser were laying. The rhythmic tap of the walking stick against the floor echoed through the room, amplifying the tension that already gripped the air. The bodyguards held Alex firmly in place, ensuring he couldn't move, couldn't escape the inevitable confrontation. Alex could feel panic starting to take over him again as he watched Hawthorne choose between the objects that were, without a doubt, a tools for his torture.

Hawthorne grabbed the belt and, with a deliberate slowness, gave it to Walker. There was a dark gleam in Walker's eyes as he started to wrap the other end of the belt around his fist.

Hawthorne, satisfied with the way the situation was unfolding, turned his attention back to Alex. "You see, Alex," he began, his tone almost conversational, "pain is a remarkable motivator. It has a way of cutting through the lies, the deceptions, the stubborn refusals. Sadly, we have limited tools at our disposal at the moment, but I'm still confident that we'll find out what we need to know."

Hawthorne nodded to his bodyguards who adjusted their grips on him so that Alex's arms were spread, leaving his back and chest open to any attack. Hawthorne leaned in closer, his voice filled with menace. "You can still end this, you know. All you have to do is talk."

Alex met Hawthorne's gaze, his fear palpable but still overshadowed by a flicker of defiance. He fought the panic welling inside him with everything he had left. "I... I don't know anything," he whispered, his voice trembling but firm.

Hawthorne straightened, irritation flickering in his eyes. He glanced at Walker, who was standing ready behind Alex. "Begin," he ordered, his voice cold and unyielding.

Walker didn't hesitate. He swung the belt in a swift, controlled arc, the object connecting with Alex's upper back with a sickening crack. The pain was instant and overwhelming, exploding through Alex's body, like a sharp and blinding wave, forcing a muffled cry from his lips. The bodyguards held him firmly as his knees buckled, keeping him upright, trapped.

"Again", Hawthorne's hard voice echoed through the pain induced fog in Alex's mind. Alex tried to brace himself for another strike. Tried to think that the second one wouldn't hurt so bad. But it was useless.

Walker's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he delivered another blow, the impact sending another wave of agony coursing through him. Alex bit down on his lip, trying to stifle the cry of pain that threatened to escape, but pained groan slipped through, and he felt a fresh surge of nausea.

Hawthorne observed Alex's reaction closely, as if calculating just how much more it would take to break him completely.

"Do you understand now, Alex?" Hawthorne's voice cut through the haze of pain. "This is only the beginning. You can spare yourself so much suffering if you simply tell us what we want to know."

Alex struggled to catch his breath, the pain radiating through his body making it difficult to focus, to think. But even as his vision blurred, even as the darkness threatened to overtake him, he forced himself to hold onto that one stubborn truth, that he didn't know anything. Repeating it in his mind like a mantra.

"I... I don't..." His voice was barely more than a ragged whisper, but it carried the weight of his resolve.

Hawthorne's expression hardened, and he gave a slight nod to Walker. "Again," he ordered coldly.

Walker didn't waste a second. With a twisted grin, he swung the belt again and again, each strike landing with brutal precision. The sharp crack of leather against skin filled the room, each blow accompanied by a groan or soft cry as Alex's body jerked in response. The pain was unbearable, searing through him like fire, his back a mass of raw, burning agony.

Alex gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. He tried to fight the pain but suddenly, his legs gave out. Alex's knees buckled, and he collapsed, the bodyguards barely managing to hold him up. Hawthorne, showing no emotion other than a flicker of impatience, nodded to them, and they dragged Alex to a nearby chair, roughly forcing him to sit on it.

Alex's vision swam as he was lowered onto the chair, his body sagging against the wooden backrest, the bodyguards holding him by his arms. He was drenched in sweat, each breath a ragged, painful effort. The agony in his chest from before and the fire on his back was relentless, each throb a reminder of the brutality he was enduring. But despite the pain, despite the overwhelming urge to surrender, he clung to his resolve like a lifeline, refusing to give them what they wanted.

Hawthorne walked over, the rhythmic tap of his walking stick echoing ominously in the room. He sat on the chair across from Alex, paused for a moment, studying Alex with a cold, calculating gaze. Then he raised his walking stick and gave it to Walker.

Walker accepted the cane with a gleam in his eye, as if he had just been handed the key to a new form of torment. He ran his fingers along the smooth wood, testing the weight of it, then turned his attention back to Alex, his smile widening.

"Let's see how much more you can take," Walker muttered, stepping closer.

Alex barely had time to brace himself before the first blow came. The cane whistled through the air, striking his already battered chest with a sickening thud. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, a new level of agony that tore a hoarse cry from his throat. His body convulsed, but the guards held him in place, preventing him from doubling over.

Walker raised the cane again, the polished wood glinting in the dim light, and brought it down hard on Alex's thigh. The impact was immediate and brutal, the pain exploding through Alex's leg like a bolt of lightning. This time he screamed, his body jerking against the hold that kept him in place as he fought to keep the pain from overwhelming him.

"Tell me what you know!" Hawthorne's voice shouted through the waves of pain. Alex squeezed his eyes shut, trying to take a breath. "I don't…I…"

And Walker struck again, this time across Alex's ribs, targeting the tender spot where the earlier beatings had left him bruised. The pain was excruciating, a white-hot agony that threatened to drag Alex under, to smother the small flame of defiance that still burned within him.

But he couldn't let it. He wouldn't.

Walker paused, his eyes cold as he watched Alex struggle to regain his composure. "He's going to pass out soon." Walker commented with a steady voice of professionalism.

"If we have to beat him senseless, we will." Hawthorne's voice said impatiently." But you can end this, Alex. Just tell me what I want to know."

Alex's breathing was ragged, each inhale sending sharp stabs of pain through his body. But he managed to lift his head, meeting Hawthorne's gaze with a look of defiance that he refused to let go of. "Fuck you," he spat with a hoarse voice.

Hawthorne looked at him, frustration and fury evident in every line of his face. "Again."

Walker brought the cane down again, this time across Alex's shoulder, the force of the blow vibrating through his whole body. Alex's vision blurred, dark spots dancing at the edges of his sight. He hoped that Walker was right, that he would pass out soon. Just to get away from this.

But Walker knew what he was doing. He struck again, the cane cutting through the air with ruthless efficiency. Each blow was calculated, designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain without rendering Alex unconscious.

Alex's world had narrowed to the relentless cycle of pain and the desperate struggle to keep holding on. His body was screaming for relief, for the torment to stop, but he had nothing to give them, nothing that could end this nightmare.

"Again," Hawthorne's voice cut through the haze, cold and unyielding.

Walker delivered another brutal strike, the cane slamming into the wound on his side. Alex couldn't hold back the scream that tore from his throat, the sound echoing through the room. His vision blurred, and he felt the darkness closing in. But before he was able to dive into that darkness, he felt a hard grip on his hair that was forcing his head up.

He sagged in the chair, covered in sweat, every inch of him hurting. His breaths were shallow, each one a painful struggle. The room swayed around him, the faces of his tormentors blurring into a foggy haze. Alex swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus and meet Hawthorne's gaze. He had to let them see he was still here, still hanging on.

Alex could see Hawthorne's hand approaching his chest that was falling and rising in the rhythm of his breathing. The man touched his skin. Tracing the outline of the bullet wound scar on his chest. Alex felt sick. He wanted to push the man's hand away, but he was too weak to make any move.

Hawthorne watched him with uncomfortable intensity. Walker was looking between Alex and Hawthorne with hungry look in his eyes. Alex couldn't help but notice how much they enjoyed tormenting him like this. It wasn't just about physical torment anymore. This was a mental battle, a twisted game of wills.

Suddenly, Hawthorne pressed down on the scar with his finger and Alex felt the uncomfortable pressure on his chest. But he refused to react, keeping his gaze locked with Hawthorne's, determined not to show any more signs of weakness.

"It's a shame," Hawthorne finally broke the silence, his voice dripping with cold detachment. "That they didn't get you the first time. We would all have avoided this mess."

The pressure increased, Hawthorne's finger pressing painfully on the old wound. Alex couldn't help it. A choked sob escaped his lips. "Tell me Alex, did it hurt? Or would it have been a peaceful way to go?"

Alex looked Hawthorne in the eyes. Memories of lying on the ground, feeling nothing as the darkness closed in, seeing his parents in those final moments, was clear in his mind. And in this current state where everything hurt, when he was scared out of his mind in the hands of these people who wanted nothing more than cause him pain, he find himself wishing that he could have left with a sudden bullet to the heart. Never even seen it coming.

Hawthorne studied him with an intense gaze as the silence stretched on, as if he could see the thoughts swirling in Alex's mind. Alex forced himself to take a breath, shoving the memories back into the recesses of his mind. It was exactly what they wanted after all. Him spiralling down to his own despair. Starting to hope for a quick, merciful end.

Hawthorne leaned closer. "Tell me what you know Alex. And I can make all this pain go away right now."

Alex swallowed hard, trying to gain some strength. He fed from the pain, from the fury that turmoiled inside of him. And slowly, he forced a smile on his lips and looked Hawthorne straight in the eyes as he whispered. "Fuck…you."

Alex saw animalistic fury in the man's eyes. Hawthorne gripped his chest with sharp nails, digging them into his skin just above his heart and Alex let out a cry he couldn't hold back. "You mouthy brat. Get him up!"

The bodyguards grabbed him under the arms and dragged him to his feet, the sharp piece of wire in his foot twisting deeper into the flesh, sending fresh waves of pain through his body.

Without a word, Hawthorne turned to Walker and nodded toward the desk on the side of the room. Resting on the table was still the black taser, the kind designed to incapacitate a person with a single, excruciating jolt.

Walker moved to retrieve the device and returned to stand before Alex. Alex's heart sank as he saw the taser in Walker's hand, the realization of what was about to happen settling in like a cold, hard stone in his gut. He didn't have much left in him, his body was already battered and his mind stretched thin, but he wouldn't give Hawthorne the satisfaction of seeing him break, seeing him beg for mercy. So he knew he just had to endure this as well.

"Let's see if this changes your mind," Walker said, his thumb flicking the switch on the taser. The device crackled to life, the sharp electric sound filling the room with an ominous buzz.

Before Alex could brace himself, Walker jabbed the taser into his side, and a searing, electric shock coursed through his body. The pain was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a violent jolt that seemed to set every nerve in his body on fire. His muscles seized involuntarily, his vision going white with the intensity of the shock. He couldn't stop the scream that tore from his throat, the sound raw and primal, an expression of pure agony.

But as quickly as it started, the shock ended. Alex's body went limp, his head lolling forward as he had no more strength left to support himself. He knew he couldn't take another shock like that, his body was at its limit. So, in the seconds that followed, Alex made a decision. He let his body go slack, his breathing slowing as he forced himself to fake unconsciousness.

Walker observed him for a moment, the taser still buzzing in his hand. He seemed to consider another jolt, but after a few seconds, he shut the taser off and glanced over at Hawthorne. "He's out," Walker reported.

Hawthorne studied Alex's limp form, his expression thoughtful. "Take him back", he instructed Petrov and Quinn, his voice cool and detached. "We'll continue this later. Walker, stay behind."

Petrov and Quinn nodded, taking Alex's limp body from Hawthorne's bodyguards between them and started to drag him toward the door. As they moved down the dim corridors, their voices were low, but Alex, still faking unconsciousness, could just make out their conversation. Quinn adjusted her grip on Alex's arm, her voice low but laced with a mixture of surprise and grudging respect.

"I'll give him this much," she muttered, glancing down at Alex's battered form. "He's got more fight in him than I expected. Most people would've cracked by now."

Petrov grunted in response, his expression hard. "He deserves every bit of what he's getting," he spat, his jaw tightening with the memory of their earlier encounter in the woods. "Little punk thought he could get the drop on me. I've still got the bruise to prove it."

Quinn smirked slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. "You're still sore about that, huh? I guess he's tougher than he looks."

Petrov shot her a glare, his temper flaring at the reminder. "He's a cocky little bastard, that's what he is. You heard him saying to Walker how we are reduced to gardeners, like he was mocking us. And you know the worst part? He's not even wrong."

Quinn's smirk faded, and she cast a wary glance around as they continued down the corridor. "It's getting under your skin, isn't it?" she asked, her tone more serious now. "The fact that we're out here starting to plant those damn things in the forest, just like he joked about. It feels... I don't know. I feel like I didn't sign up to this when joining Scorpia. It's like the glory days are over and we're just scrambling in the trash for any client that is stupid enough to hire us now."

Petrov huffed, his frustration bubbling over. "It's humiliating. We're supposed to be operatives, ones with a reputation that demands respect. And did you hear, this fucking kid went to Malagosto, of all places. I always wanted to get the chance but then it was raided and now this is all we have. A stupid mission to carry some bugs around."

Petrov grumbled, his grip on Alex tightening as he dragged him forward. "I hate this. How much longer are we going to be running around like fools in the woods?"

Quinn shrugged, though there was an edge of frustration in her voice too. "They cleared out most of the team for tonight. It's just us and a skeleton crew left here but at least we get to avoid the gardening duty."

Petrov's scowl deepened. "Yeah, stuck here babysitting this kid and the others. I swear, if I hear him make another crack about us…"

Quinn shot him a sharp look. "Let it go, Petrov. We've got our orders. Besides, the kid has value. I rather watch him than drag through the forest all night."

Petrov gritted his teeth, but said nothing more, his anger simmering as they reached the building holding the prisoners.

Alex felt every jolt of pain as they dragged him, his body battered and aching from the relentless torture he had endured. The dull throbbing in his side from the taser, the bruises blooming across his skin, and the exhaustion weighing heavily on him made it difficult to focus. But he forced himself to listen to their conversation, each word a thread of information he could grasp onto.

As they reached his cell he was unceremoniously dumped onto the hard floor. The impact jarred his bruised body, a sharp pain shooting up his spine, but he forced himself to stay limp, to keep up the pretence of unconsciousness. He could feel the darkness at the edge of his mind calling him again, drawing him into the calmness it promised.

Petrov and Quinn didn't linger. They left him on the floor, the door slamming shut behind them with a finality that echoed through the small space.

Alex lay still for a moment, his body screaming in protest with every breath. He could hear the others calling to him.

"Alex?" one of the voices called out trembling. "Alex, are you okay?"

"Cub? Cub, are you there?", Alex recognized Snake's voice, it was filled with worry.

Another voice joined in, softer, pleading. "Please, Alex, say something…"

And Alex thought about responding. To let them know that he was conscious, that he was alive. But he didn't. He was so tired, he hurt so bad. His mind was a haze of pain and exhaustion, and the darkness pressing in around him was a welcome relief. He knew if he let the guards see he was still there, still awake, they wouldn't let him slip away again.

So, Alex focused in on his breathing, embracing the promise of rest, trying to block away the desperate pleas from the others for him to respond to them. He let himself sink into the darkness, deciding that for now, unconsciousness was the only escape he had left. With a final, shuddering breath, he let his mind go numb and let the darkness take him, pulling him down into unconsciousness where, for a little while, the pain couldn't reach him.


Viper watched from their cell as Alex was dragged across the room by Petrov and Quinn. The sight of Alex's limp, battered form being hauled like a ragdoll sent a wave of dread through his chest. The eerie shadows across the cold concrete walls, and the faint sound of footsteps echoed in the space, amplifying the tension that gripped Viper's gut.

When Petrov and Quinn finally reached Alex's cell, Viper strained to get a better look. Alex was missing his shirt, the bruises and dried blood visible on his exposed skin, his head lolled forward, as if he wasn't even conscious.

Petrov and Quinn didn't waste time. They unceremoniously dumped Alex onto his stomach on the floor of the cell, the sickening thud of his body hitting the ground reverberating through the air. Alex didn't move, didn't make a sound, and that was terrifying. Viper could see the red welts covering Alex's back telling their tale about what had happened while the boy was gone.

As Petrov and Quinn left, Viper pressed himself against the bars that separated them from Alex, his hands gripping the cold metal so tightly his knuckles turned white. Ellie came to his side. "Alex?" Ellie called out with her voice trembling despite their efforts to stay calm. "Alex, are you okay?"

There was no response. Alex remained motionless on the floor, his body eerily still.

Snake called to Alex, trying to get a response. Nothing. Liam was watching Alex through his fingers, his face wet with tears. "Please, Alex, say something…"

Sam scrambled to the bars. "Alex!" Sam's voice cracked with panic. "Come on, Alex, answer us!"

Will was visibly shaken, his face pale as he joined them at the bars. "He's not moving," Will whispered, his voice laced with fear. "What if he's..."

"Don't say it," Viper interrupted, his own fear threatening to spill over. Viper forced himself to breath, to put himself together. "He's alive. He's just... he's just unconscious."

Ellie let out a choked sob. "This can't be happening," she murmured, her hands trembling as she reached out, as if trying to will Alex to respond. "He has to wake up. This can't be happening."

Viper clenched his jaw, trying to hold it together. But seeing Alex like this, so broken and unresponsive, was testing his limits.

"Cub…Alex, please," Viper called, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Just give us a sign. Anything."

But there was nothing. No movement, no sound. Panic began to set in among the others. Liam was gripping his face, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "What if he doesn't wake up? What if they've already..."

"Shut up, Liam!" Sam snapped, more harshly than he intended. But he couldn't help it. The fear in Liam's voice was too close to his own. "He's going to wake up. He's just... he's just hurt, okay? He needs rest."

Snake nodded, though his expression was still one of deep concern. "He'll come around. He just needs some time."

But even as Snake spoke, Viper could see the doubt in his eyes. They all knew how dire the situation was, how close they were to losing one of their own. And that fear was like a suffocating weight on all of them.

Viper stayed at the bars, his eyes locked on Alex, willing him to move, to make any sign that he was still in there, still fighting. But as the minutes stretched on, and Alex remained unresponsive, the weight of the situation pressed down on Viper harder than ever. Finally, with nothing else to do, Viper leaned his back against the wall, his body heavy with exhaustion and fear. And as the silence of the cell deepened, and Alex still didn't stir, Viper's thoughts became a tangled mess of fear and hopelessness.


Walker stood in the center of the room, the now deactivated taser still in his hand, his expression carefully controlled. But beneath the surface, a storm of anger simmered. He felt extremely irritated that they hadn't managed to break the boy yet. And now Rider had the nerve to lose his consciousness on them. But he had warned Hawthorne that Alex would pass out.

Hawthorne observed Walker for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the man's rigid posture. When he spoke, his tone was cool and authoritative, slicing through the tension like a blade.

"Despite what I told the boy," Hawthorne began, his gaze unwavering, "we don't have the luxury of time. We have a very narrow window before those plants begin to wither. They need to be placed in their designated areas before dawn. It has to be done tonight."

Walker's jaw tightened at the words, but he kept his face impassive. "You expect me to be part of that task?" he asked, his voice measured but with a slight edge. He carefully set the taser on the table, the sound of it hitting the surface echoing in the otherwise quiet room. "My place is here, finishing what I started with Rider."

Hawthorne met Walker's gaze steadily. "Your skills are required in the field tonight," he said firmly. "You're one of the few I trust to get this done efficiently. I need you to lead one of the groups. You've proven yourself capable of that."

Walker's hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he forced himself to remain composed. "Understood," he replied, his tone respectful, though his frustration was palpable. "But with all due respect, Rider is close to breaking. I just need a little more time with him. I should be here, extracting the information we need, not running around the woods all night."

Hawthorne's expression hardened, the calm demeanor slipping just enough to reveal the pressure they were all under. "I understand your frustration, Walker, but the plants are a critical part of this operation and if they fail to be placed correctly, in time, then getting them here would have been a huge waste of effort. You will lead a group tonight. That's an order."

Walker's eyes blazed momentarily with anger, but he swallowed it down, keeping his expression neutral. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice even, though the effort it took to rein in his temper was clear.

"You can go see Rider before you leave," Hawthorne said after a short silence. "But make it count. We don't have time to waste, and if he doesn't talk soon..." Hawthorne paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "We'll start using his friends as leverage."

Walker's lips twitched into a tight, controlled smile, the dark satisfaction barely concealed. "I'm sure that will get us results," he said, his voice steady. "He won't hold out much longer. I'll make sure of it."

"Good," Hawthorne replied, his tone final. "Get what you need from the boy when he regains consciousness, and then get out into the field."

Walker gave a sharp nod, retrieving the taser with calculated precision before he left the room. As he walked away, his mind seethed with anger, but he kept it buried deep, focusing instead on the task at hand. He would get what he needed from Rider. And if the boy still held his tongue, well, then it was time to start using his friends.