Becoming Agent Rider

Work Experience

" - monitor for any unusual activity."

There was a long pause, making Alex look over at his mentor for the morning that Crawley had dumped him on. He was at a cubicle in the junior and intermediate analysts' office on the fourth floor and had been zoning out and staring at the computer screen blankly for the last ten minutes or so, having already gotten the general idea of an MI6 analyst's day to day tasks halfway through the explanation.

"Your tie and glasses are fine the way they are," his mentor said, evidently amused. "That's the fifth time in an hour that you've adjusted them."

Alex blinked, looking at his hands, and sheepishly brought them back down to rest on the desk that they were currently sitting at. As soon as he'd walked into the Bank that morning, Crawley had led him to a washroom and made him change out of his usual jeans and hoodie and into a suspiciously well-tailored, if cheap, suit. The business attire, along with a pair of glasses and a different arrangement of his hair, were supposed to help him blend in with the other MI6 employees and make him look a little older. So far, he hadn't gotten any shocked looks so he supposed it was working. He grinned nervously at his mentor. "Sorry, boss. I'm still getting used to this stuff. It's weird to wear such stiff clothing too, you know? And no backpack!"

His mentor chuckled. "You'll get used to it. I bet the novelty of not being in school will wear off in a few weeks. Anyways, as I was saying, we monitor and analyze all sorts of things. Surveillance tapes, monetary transactions, speech patterns, you name it. Most of this - "

Alex let his mind drift again. None of this information was surprising to him so he let himself relax into the fresh out of college intern persona on an experimental program that he and Jones had agreed on using as his cover, asking questions when appropriate.

"Understand?" his mentor asked after wrapping up the explanation fifteen minutes later.

"Yes, I think so," Alex answered.

"Good. I'll just give you these bank and credit card accounts to analyze as a start then," his mentor said, typing away on the keyboard and pulling up a list. "Let me know if you've got any questions. Once you're finished writing up a report for them, I'll give you something else to do."

Nodding, Alex got to work as his mentor went back to his office. He scrolled through the transactions for the first account and made a few notes. It wasn't clear exactly what he was supposed to be looking for but there wasn't anything unusual that he could see. A few patterns, mostly steady income and bills to pay. But no sudden, big purchases. No unexplained money going in. So, within twenty minutes of examining the account transactions, he was bored and couldn't help yawning out loud. The list of fifteen accounts assigned to him for analysis belonged to a motley bunch. Personal and business. Different social classes. A wide range of countries. He continued writing basically the same report in different words for each account. Until he got to the last one. Hitachi. A Japanese multinational conglomerate tech company that offered business solutions.

Given what he knew of the current shareholder situation in Japanese companies, he decided to pay a little more attention to this one. At first, he couldn't see anything unusual. He went over it again. Still nothing. One more time. Something he couldn't pinpoint niggled at the back of his mind. Frowning, he examined the transactions a little more closely. Normal... regular schedule... expected payment... regular schedule... too small of a one time amount to be significant. Alex sighed. This wasn't going anywhere. He tilted his head to rest on the back of his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling in thought.

After a few minutes, he decided on a different approach. Alex exported the account report to Excel and rearranged the transactions so that the income source and destination for payments were grouped by name. Still nothing. Everything appeared to be normal. Maybe he was just being paranoid, Alex thought resignedly. He looked it over once more even as he moved to close the file. And froze a hair's breadth away from clicking the little "x" at the top right corner. Staring at the section that had caught his attention, he frowned as he tried to figure out why it was raising an alarm in his mind. Weekly, pre-authorized deposits into the account. Nothing suspicious about the time. He looked at the numbers. The oldest transaction in that group, 1,346,269 Japanese yen, was perhaps too large of an amount for income. Maybe. Hard to tell since Hitachi was such a large company. The next amount was quite a bit smaller at just 832,040 Japanese yen. 514,229 was next. After that, it was 317,811. Eight weeks of payments so far, with the most recent one at 46,368 Japanese yen. Alex couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with the numbers in this group. Searching for a pattern, he soon found that the two most recent amounts added up to the third and that pattern continued with the rest of the payments.

Where had he heard about this pattern before? A memory of a night spent stargazing with Ian and Jack flashed through his mind. He was nine years old. Ian was teaching him how to identify the stars and constellations by name. How to use them to tell time and direction. When Ian had started testing him on the knowledge, Jack had shaken her head fondly at them, scolding his uncle for cramming information into their brains so late at night during the holidays of all times. It's like you're trying to make Alex the smartest person in the whole galaxy before he's even ten, she'd said. And that had started Ian on a tangent talking about galaxies. Somewhere in between laughing with Jack about how she should've just kept her mouth shut to save them another lecture, Alex remembered Ian telling them about a lot of galaxies having a spiral shape. That had started another tangent on spirals. Which had led to something about a sequence that could be used to form a spiral. If memory served, the sequence had the exact same properties as these numbers. What was it called? Started with an "F". Named after an Italian mathematician. Ferroni? Ferrucci? Fibonacci! That's it. Some of the things that the Fibonacci sequence was found in were nature, computer science, and Pythagorean triangles.

But why was it showing up in these bank transactions? The sequence was going in reverse order, starting from the thirty-second number. That meant the remaining twenty-four transaction amounts would only keep getting smaller, if the pattern held. Was it indicative of a deadline for whatever operation the Yakuza had going on? Possible. Assuming the measure was in months, then the frequency of the transactions only supported the theory of a deadline because the Fibonacci spiral worked in quarters and the amounts meant they were getting closer to the centre of the spiral with each transaction. If he was right, then there were only six months left to stop a 3.5 million yen operation. Jones needed to see this.

Quickly, Alex wrote up a report and put it aside, separate from the others. He thoroughly revisited the previous accounts to check that he hadn't missed any patterns and, satisfied that the reports he'd written were still accurate, put them in order. Taking out his phone, Alex deliberated on how he wanted to do this. Jones or Crawley? Hmm... Jones getting involved was too suspicious for his cover. Crawley it was then.

What's my mentor's clearance level?

Crawley sighed at the message he received from the teenager.

I do believe that has nothing to do with you.

Alex rolled his eyes at the obviously annoyed tone.

Contrary to what you may believe, I'm not asking for fun.

Interest piqued, Crawley considered the chances of whether this was worth his time and decided to humor the teen.

Level 6.

That was easier than expected. Alex bit his nails at the response. The short search he'd done in the database to confirm the veracity of Yassen's information had told him a level 8 was needed to poke around in that investigation. Of course, his level 9 clearance still couldn't get any more information than that because it was an active operation that he wasn't involved in.

He doesn't have the clearance to make proper decisions for what I've found on a Japanese company then.

Crawley stared at the message and forced himself to take deep breaths. What. The. Hell. When did Alex even start looking into the situation in Japan?! Enough to recognize it was a high level operation too?!

I'm on my way.

Shrugging to himself, Alex relaxed into his chair to wait for the man. Crawley arrived a few minutes later, composure back in place, and Alex wordlessly handed over his report. Skimming through it, Crawley sighed. Jones needed to see this.

"Good work," Crawley muttered, grabbing another report to keep in his hands. Turning on his heel, he instructed, "Follow my lead."

Alex followed his handler out of the cubicle to his mentor's office. He watched as Crawley exchanged pleasantries with the other man, explaining how he'd just been walking by to check on Alex's progress when he noticed a couple of the accounts were too big of a responsibility to hand over to a fresh intern, waving the two reports to show that he'd taken them out. After warning his mentor to not make that mistake again, Alex was prompted to hand in the rest of the reports and Crawley left them to continue on.

The rest of the morning passed by at a snail's pace. Alex was given some footage of a hostage exchange between the Yardies and the Arifs. The former being a Jamaican gang with claim over UK territories, allied with the Hunt Syndicate. The latter being a Turkish Cypriot gang in South East London, allied with the Clerkenwell Syndicate. In the midst of the London gang war, the two organizations had somehow captured each other's second-in-commands so were forced to exchange hostages. Alex would be one of twenty people to analyze their every word and movement during the exchange and write a report on the effects it would have on the overall war. The separate reports would be compared by the higher ups before any decisions were reached. It took Alex an hour to make his notes for the report, replaying the footage a number of times to get all the details down, and another half hour to actually write it. After handing that in, his mentor assigned him to watch a few streets on the CCTV cameras until lunch. Apparently, the analysts were taking shifts to monitor those areas because a gang meeting was supposed to take place but they had no idea when. They were looking for signs to indicate the time and scope of the meeting. So, staring at the screen for a good hour and forty-three minutes, nothing of interest was happening on the streets and Alex had let his mind drift a long time ago. Relying on his subconscious instincts to alert him to trouble, he wasn't even sure what he was looking at anymore, glancing at the clock every few minutes and tapping his fingers on the desk impatiently as he waited for his shift to end.

When lunch time finally came with another analyst to take his shift, Alex grinned and decided to get some exercise by taking the stairs up to the cafeteria on the eighth floor. However, he didn't get very far before his phone buzzed, letting him know that he had a message from Crawley.

Report to Mrs. Jones' office immediately.

Alex groaned inwardly and sighed. There goes his lunch break. With much less enthusiasm than a few seconds ago, he trudged up the stairs to the sixteenth floor. Knocking on Mrs. Jones' office door, he entered without waiting for an answer. To his surprise, Mrs. Jones was not the only person in the room. Morris and Crawley were there as well, waiting for him with lunch already ordered up from the cafeteria.

"Lunch meeting?" Alex questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, Alex," Jones answered. "You need to eat but there won't be time after we're finished talking to you. Close the door and we'll get started."

Doing as he was told, he sat down in the only seat with an unattended meal. Aware of the assessing eyes on him, Alex hesitantly picked up the sandwich. The four of them ate in silence for a couple of minutes before Jones said anything.

"Phoenix?" Jones asked.

Alex looked up at her. It took him a moment to work out what she was after. Shrugging, he fell back on his earlier excuses. "Exploring the city, remember? I overheard some people recounting the Greenwich Park incident while using that name for me. A lot of what they said was exaggerated but the core of it was still recognizable."

The three adults were silent as they decided whether he was telling the truth. Alex kept eating, seemingly relaxed. He wasn't. Not with all the attention on him. But he knew he had nothing to worry about. Ian had always said that the best lies contained some truth. His was three parts truth and one part omission. Not a lie. After what seemed like forever, they went back to eating their lunch, accepting his explanation at face value.

"The problem with the Japanese companies?" Morris asked. "How did you know about them?"

Alex paused. This one was a little trickier. "Mr. Crawley did teach me how to read the stock markets." True. After all, they were the ones who had arranged those lessons for him. "I've been doing some practice and noticed the activity levels are much higher than normal." Lie. He hadn't bothered paying attention to international activity that far east until after Yassen had given him the intel. "So I searched for intelligence on the Japanese in our database and found there was an ongoing investigation I couldn't access that required a level 8." True. A quick check by any of the techs at MI6 would confirm that. Really, it all came back to concealing his communications with Yassen. The man was pretty much his only external information source. He really needed to act on the assassin's advice and branch out with his contacts.

Jones nodded slowly and he could see the moment all three of them had accepted his explanation. Alex felt the air around them relax slightly when Jones let out a soft sigh. As they resumed eating their lunch, she stated, "You have been involved in the daily activities of Special Operations for only half a day. And yet, you have managed to be of more use than an entire department of analysts. They have been keeping an eye on those transactions for weeks without discovering anything suspicious. Not only have you identified suspicious activity in a fraction of that time, but you have also given us an estimate of the monetary value of the operation and a potential deadline. Imagine how much you could contribute if you worked for us full-time. "

Baffled, Alex raised an eyebrow, blinking as he decided how to respond. Ignoring the comments on usefulness and full-time work, he slowly said in a neutral voice, "I looked through that account's transactions for fifteen minutes."

"How did you recognize the pattern?" Morris asked curiously. "The Fibonacci sequence is not exactly common knowledge."

"The stars told me," Alex answered with a straight face. They stared at him, facial muscles barely twitching, but he could still somehow tell that they were incredibly confused. Jones gave him a pointed look, silently ordering an explanation before she sent him to a mental asylum. Smirking, he elaborated, "Stargazing. Within an hour, Ian went from teaching me about stars and constellations to talking about galaxies which led to a lesson on spirals, where he lectured me on the Fibonacci sequence."

Silence. The adults exchanged glances. "Right," Crawley coughed. "I suppose that does sound like Ian. The recruits never could keep up with his lectures."

"Ian taught recruits?" Alex asked interestedly, eager for any information about his uncle. He may have lived with the guy for thirteen years but, considering he never knew his uncle was a spy until after his death, it felt like he had never known the man at all.

"Rarely," Jones said dryly. "It seems that he does not have the temperament for training anyone except you. We only had him do it a few times as a last resort."

"If Ian wasn't a good choice for training recruits, what makes you think I'll be any better?" Alex questioned, referencing the one time Jones suggested he teach new agents.

"You are not your uncle. Or your father," Jones answered gently. "You are your own person."

Great. Mrs. Jones was telling him the same thing that Yassen had back in Brecon Beacons. Was he hallucinating? Discreetly, he pinched himself to check. Nope, not hallucinating.

Failing to get a reaction from him, Jones briskly continued on. "In fact, I think we are still underestimating your abilities and would quite like to see how much you can actually do. I hear your Japanese language and culture skills are near native levels. Since you are already aware of the situation in Japan and have contributed to our efforts in the investigation, I am putting you on standby. We may need to pull you in for fieldwork at any time. Of course, as agreed, we will have to get approval from the necessary people if we put you in the field. However, in the meantime, you will have access to any files pertaining to the situation so you are fully informed of the developments and I expect you to let us know of any insights you may have. Do you understand?"

Alex sharpened his gaze at the question, sensing that she wasn't just looking for a blind "yes, ma'am" as an answer, and turned the situation over in his mind. A test of his abilities, he mused. Yet, it was a show of trust as well. And a promise of a mission in the works. One that he would have complete information on instead of the half-baked mission briefs in the past. Demonstrating that they are turning over a new leaf in their dealings with him. Which was the whole point of this work experience week from Jones' perspective, if this morning's activity was any indication, now that he thought about it. Letting him know what a normally recruited agent would go through and giving him an idea of options outside of being a field agent while making full use of his current availability to serve. However, if he did end up being assigned the mission, it would mean going up against the Yakuza. Possibly against Mikato himself. He would need to demand extra precautions before agreeing to that potential mission. Alex nodded slowly. "Yes, I understand completely."

"Good. I'll have Smithers adjust your access as soon as this meeting is over," Jones stated.

"How did you find analytical work?" Crawley asked.

Taken aback at the interest over his preferences, it took Alex a bit to respond. They ended up talking about his opinions on analytical work for another ten minutes before the meeting was wrapped up and Crawley led him to the third floor, where the accounting and finance department was located.

Here, he was handed all the financial information on his own missions and given three hours to read through everything. Looking at the reports, he saw that Crawley had filed all the costs for his past missions, along with his debriefs. He knew that he was expected to write his own reports in the future so started to make notes on how to do it as he read through the files. Every so often, Alex winced at the numbers, realizing exactly how much damage he had caused on his missions. For starters, rebuilding the dock that Mr. Grin and the cargo plane had crashed into and burned when he set off the smoke bomb had cost nine thousand pounds. That didn't even include the clean up costs to drag the remains out of the River Thames yet. Repairing the roof of the Science Museum from when he had crashed feet first into it, as well as the bullet-ridden interiors from when he had shot at the mouse used for launching the Stormbreaker computers, had cost another thirty thousand pounds. The rest of his missions had damages on a similar scale. Even his off-duty costs had been submitted. Like the fifty thousand pounds to rebuild the conference center that Skoda's barge had been dropped onto. Not all of these expenses were paid by MI6 but the costs were still someone's responsibility to pay. Whoever the responsibility had fallen to, they probably weren't too happy with him. Alex grimaced. While necessary for survival at the time, he still felt a brief tendril of guilt in the pit of his stomach as he saw the numbers. That guilt was quickly squashed when he thought about the consequences of failing the missions though. He would just have to calculate these costs into his decisions in the future. To reduce the amount of paperwork for himself and the strain on taxpayers, if nothing else. It would have to be good enough.

Three hours later, Crawley came to collect him again, leading him to the communications department on the seventh floor. The loud chaos hit them as soon as they stepped into the open plan office. Rows of technicians, older in comparison to the rest of the people in the room, sat with headsets in front of two computer screens each, looking like a customer service call center. Many of them were talking calmly but urgently into their headsets, sharp eyes tracking whatever their screens were showing them at any given moment as their fingers flew across their keyboards. From the snippets of conversations that he could catch, others were busy sending emails, coordinating tasks to sort out logistics, arranging things like transportation, or passing messages along to the appropriate people. In a corner, there were a group of techs monitoring the CCTV and other security measures of the Bank, as well as those within half a mile radius from the building. To the sides, there were closed doors so Alex couldn't tell what was going on in those offices or if there were even people in them. At the front of the room, there were several more screens, each showing something different. A webpage, security footage, surveillance photos, a mugshot with the person's basic information on the side. Buzzing with activity, the room reminded Alex of a beehive. Organized chaos. Always on the move, each person had their role and carried out their tasks efficiently without getting in each other's way. This was essentially the control room of Special Operations.

"Is it always this busy in here?" Alex asked.

Crawley glanced at him. "Yes and no. There are always more things that need to be done than people available to do them. Logistics to plan and arrange, messages to pass on. However, the technicians on the headsets are not always this busy. Their workload depends on how many field agents are requesting support at any given time. Mostly for junior and intermediate assignments. All of the technicians tasked with field support have been in the field themselves at one point or another so they're fully qualified to be giving instructions. They're briefed every morning on current operations that are likely to have agents calling in for help. However, the technicians only have the same clearance as intermediate agents. For the more sensitive assignments, the senior and elite agents have other communication arrangements, depending on what the mission requires or safely allows. Since the technicians seem to be in one of their busier times, what do you say to taking a station and helping out?"

Alex shrugged. "What do I do?"

"You know our standard communication procedures?"

"You did cover that in our lessons."

Crawley ignored his dry tone. "And how to pull up our maps, satellite feeds, and the country's CCTV? How to trace a signal?"

"What do you think happens in Smithers' lessons?"

Smiling slightly with a shrug, Crawley said, "Just checking. When you answer the distress call, follow procedure and do what you can to guide the agent out of trouble."

Alex arched an eyebrow. "You're putting an agent's life in my hands?"

"The world's fate has been in your hands more than once," Crawley retorted good-naturedly. "You'll do fine. And I will be right here."

"Fine."

That settled, the two of them headed to an empty workstation, the other people giving respectful nods to Crawley while casting curious glances at the senior officer's companion as they passed. A distress call came in just as Alex sat down at workstation 36 and he hurried to put on the headset.

"This is Alpha Command three-six. What's the situation? Over," Alex said. It was a phone call but it was standard procedure to use the rules of radio communications in an emergency to ensure the delivery and receipt of clear messages.

"Romeo of Uniform-Kilo team reporting in," the man panted after cursing. Yelling and multiple sets of heavy footsteps could be heard in the background. "I have... Lima... with me. We have... four on our tail... that we can't shake. We are unarmed. Requesting extraction. Over."

Alex noted that the correct format of call sign, followed by an indication of which country the agents were currently located in, was used in the agent's reply. It helped save time by narrowing down where to search from the beginning without compromising the agent's identity. And gave the higher ups an idea of which possible operations the call could belong to. "Copy loud and clear. What is your location? Over," he responded, already working on tracing the call with the adjusted search parameters, just in case the agent didn't know.

"Elm Street," came the shouted reply as Alex finished tracing the call, real time CCTV footage popping up on the screen to show him the current situation on the streets. In the first few seconds of assessing the footage, what he saw confirmed that the agent's answer was true. It also showed him the faces of the agents, running side by side, and the four black teenagers chasing them with knives. To his surprise, he recognized the two agents. One was a plump man with short, fair hair. He was quite out of breath. The other was on the phone and looked like he could be a Brazilian footballer. They had been the guards on the ground floor of Mrs. Jones' apartment in his first attempted assassination.

"Copy." Alex grimaced, shaking his head to focus back on the task as his eyes darted around in search of a viable escape route. While they were still in London and could easily dispatch someone to help out if needed, the chase was happening in the Clerkenwell area, which had several universities, businesses, and offices for large corporations nearby. Even worse, Alex could see the outline of guns on the four teenagers. Even if the agents were armed, they couldn't afford a shootout so guns as a defense was out of the question. The agents did need to spread themselves out though. "Does Lima have his phone? Over."

"Affirmative."

"Have Lima call so I can patch him into our line. And split up once you cross the street at the T-intersection. Over."

"Split up?!"

"Do it!" Alex commanded.

Grumbling under his breath, Romeo passed on the instructions to his partner and Lima was on the line by the time they were crossing the street. Romeo went right, Lima went left. As expected, the teenagers followed suit, splitting up into pairs.

Scanning the streets, Alex quickly traced a few paths, using the map and his own memories of when he had explored the city before each training session with Yassen. "Lima, take a right now. Then, a left at the second intersection to get on King's Mews. Romeo, take a left and keep going."

Tracking their progress, he made a mental note of their surroundings, looking out for potential trouble. Alex continued giving them instructions, having Lima cut through a business school as Romeo took a longer route. He noticed Crawley giving him a strange look but ignored it in favor of the task at hand. At one point, he had Romeo duck into a corner shop to narrowly avoid a bullet. That got the agent out of the pursuers' line of sight for a few precious seconds but the chase continued.

Soon, Lima was ready to collapse from exhaustion but safe, having gotten to the Holborn police station a few streets away for the backup that Alex had been directing the two agents towards. The two teenagers pursuing him were quickly arrested. Romeo, on the other hand, still had some ways to go. However, as he instructed the agent to cut across an empty primary school field in a zigzag pattern, Alex became aware of another problem. Throughout the chase, there were a pair of mixed race teenagers that had followed Romeo's route from afar, casually enough that they wouldn't draw suspicion. It could have been coincidence that they were going in the same direction. In fact, if it weren't for their balanced movements tipping him off that these were highly trained teenagers and CCTV cameras giving him an overview of what was happening on the ground, Alex might have never noticed them either. As he continued instructing Romeo on what to do, he tapped Crawley's arm and gestured at the screen, pointing at the two suspicious teenagers in a silent request to track them and give a second opinion.

Crawley observed the two that he had pointed out for a few minutes. Frowning, the man summoned another tech and gave the order to follow the targets through the cameras until they had a home address or some other permanent location. Just as the tech got settled in next to him, Alex caught an unusual movement from one of the mixed race teenagers that put him on edge.

"Duck!" Alex barked harshly.

Romeo complied out of pure instinct from the urgency and authority in his voice, a dagger missing his head by millimetres and burying itself into a nearby parked vehicle. A sharp right turn on Alex's orders saw the agent evade death again, dodging a bullet from one of the black teenagers pursuing him. Things continued in this way until Alex finally succeeded in leading the relatively unharmed agent directly into the path of Holborn station's police officers that Lima had had the sense to send his partner's way. From there, the remaining black teenagers were quickly subdued and arrested but the mixed race teenagers were far enough away to escape the police officers' notice. In fact, they had already started breaking away from the chase just before the authorities came into their view.

Satisfied that the agents were safe, Alex instructed them to return to base and clicked off at their affirmative reply by saying, "Alpha Command three-six, out."

It was quiet in their corner. The tech continued tracking the mixed race teenagers while Alex exhaled a sigh of relief. Crawley had walked a few meters away, talking into his phone. When he was finished, the man came back and said quietly, "You did well. Leading them towards the police station was unexpected but a nice touch. And these other two teenagers were a good catch. Had it been anyone else taking this call, those two would likely have slipped through our fingers."

Alex nodded and murmured, "Nobody suspects a child. I nearly missed them."

"What tipped you off?" Crawley asked.

Shaking his head, Alex looked up at the man and answered, "Their movements. Unlike the four that were just arrested, these two were too graceful and balanced. Too... alert. I think they're more highly trained than I am." He paused, flicking his eyes over to the tech and giving Crawley a meaningful look. "They remind me of certain assassins. Not as skilled but a few more years of training would get them there."

Crawley got his message instantly. Issuing an order to the tech to keep quiet about the whole affair and report any findings directly to him as soon as possible, the man gestured for Alex to follow him. It wasn't until they were sat in Crawley's office that the man spoke again.

"Do you think they were trained by SCORPIA?"

Alex considered the question, going through his memories. He shook his head. "No, it's a different style. I don't know how to explain it but something about them is just not the same as those who are SCORPIA trained."

Crawley nodded. "That's what I guessed too. Someone else is training child assassins then."

Alex grimaced at the thought. Slowly, he voiced another concern. "Something else about their movements struck me as odd. They seem to have known where Romeo was headed before he even got there. They knew the cops were there before they could have even gotten a glimpse of them. And they broke away from the chase too quickly. Like someone was giving them orders."

"Yes, I noticed that too," Crawley nodded again, more thoughtfully this time. "What do you make of this?"

"Either someone hacked into our communication channels or the teenage assassins have a backup team that somehow gained access to the city's cameras as well."

This time, it was Crawley's turn to grimace. "Unfortunately, I think you're right. I've already got forensics retrieving that dagger for analysis. Hopefully, we'll learn something there, as well as whatever the tech can track down through the cameras. But until then, we won't know what we're dealing with."

"Once we know what direction to take, am I going to be sent in for whatever we need next on this?"

"Quite possibly. I'll talk it over with Mrs. Jones. Child operatives are definitely your area. It would be ideal if you were sent in. But, with the Japan situation, we'll have to see which one takes priority if the timelines conflict. We'll keep you informed."

Suddenly, two sharp raps on the door sounded just as Alex nodded in understanding and Crawley gave the go ahead to come in. To Alex's surprise, Romeo and Lima shuffled in nervously, the former saying, "You wanted to see us, sir?"

"Agent Ramirez, Agent Lloyd," Crawley greeted. "Sit down."

The agents did as they were told, eyeing the room's youngest occupant. In his peripheral vision, Alex examined the two men just like they were doing in sizing him up. When those two were assigned guard duty at Mrs. Jones' apartment, he could already tell that they were inexperienced, with average training. Not too different from civilian security guards. Nearly a year and a half later, it seemed that they hadn't improved much. Still, Alex could see the agents dismissing him as unimportant. Not a threat. He pursed his lips at that. It did not escape his notice that Crawley was watching their silent exchange in mild amusement.

Crawley cleared his throat, making the two agents startle and instantly forget about Alex in their anxiousness over being called in to see someone so high in the chain of command. "Agents. Today's assignment was to patrol the streets as normal civilians going about their day so you could gather information on the current gang war, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why did you end up being chased by armed teenagers?"

The agents cast an uncertain glance towards the only person in the room that they didn't know. Seeing this, Crawley blandly informed them that Alex had been the one to lead them to safety so they were free to speak about what happened.

Staring at Alex in disbelief, the two agents tried to reconcile the physical appearance of the person in front of them with the authoritative voice that had guided them.

"You're the tech?!" Lloyd exclaimed. "You're barely out of college!"

"Why the hell did you lead us to the police?!" Ramirez added outrageously.

Raising an eyebrow at them, Alex said calmly, "The police were the closest backup to your location. Or did you want to be dodging attacks all the way back here?"

"We're MI6!" Ramirez spluttered. "We shouldn't need the regular police force!"

Alex pursed his lips, saying coldly, "So you would rather that backup took longer to arrive because the regular police force aren't good enough for you? That arrogance is exactly what's going to get you killed in the field."

Crawley cleared his throat once more and looked pointedly at the two inexperienced agents. "Gentlemen, you are still alive thanks to Alex, who has considerably more field experience than the two of you combined. If I were you, I'd take his advice to accept help wherever you can find it. Now, I would like to get your debriefing done as soon as possible so please show some professionalism."

"Yes, sir," the two agents chorused with twin blushes coloring their cheeks, suitably chastened, while Alex mentally raised an eyebrow at the unusually aggressive tone of the senior agent.

"Good," Crawley said. "Now, please give me a rundown of what happened from the moment you left the Bank to your return here."

Dutifully, the two agents recounted the events, with Crawley asking questions at times, while trying to ignore Alex's presence. They told Crawley that everything had gone smoothly until the end of their shift. As they were preparing to return to headquarters, they heard a strangled cry and ran to see what had happened. All they saw was a dead body on the ground. The victim's throat was slit. There was no sign of the killer. Just as they were about to check the body, the four black teenagers had appeared. At first, the rowdy teens were just joking around with each other and talking big. Generally acting like jerks but, ultimately, just passersby. However, once the group had caught sight of the agents, they exchanged glances and gleefully rushed them with knives as one, ignoring the dead body. Since the assignment had been deemed very safe, they were going out as civilians, and no other pairs had run into any trouble, the agents had no weapons to defend themselves with. They did the only thing they could and ran. That was when they had called the Communications team. Once Alex had led them to safety, they heard the police officers talking about the arrested black teenagers being Mali Boys. A team of police officers sent out to the dead body's location revealed the victim to be one of the Clerkenwell Syndicate's key players. There was still no sign of the killer. With that information, the agents had returned to the Bank, where the receptionist had passed on the message to see Crawley immediately.

"I see," Crawley said blandly when they had finished recounting everything. "I want a written report from each of you on my desk by tomorrow morning. Dismissed."

The two agents shuffled out of the office awkwardly, still wondering why someone so high up was interested in this. They had forgotten that Alex was in the room and when the door closed, Crawley only addressed him by asking, "Thoughts?"

"Agent Lloyd needs better fitness and both of them need better training in general," Alex immediately answered.

"About the gang activity, Alex," Crawley sighed. "However, your feedback on their training will be taken into consideration."

Alex smirked. "Should've been more specific."

Crawley gave him an unimpressed glare and Alex launched into an analysis of the gang activity before he could annoy the man too much.

"The killer wasn't found but the two mixed race teenagers are the most likely suspects, especially because they were tracking Ramirez. The Mali Boys though... They're a bit far from their Walthamstow territory but, with the gang war, that could mean nothing. Or it could mean that they're getting bolder and challenging the more powerful gangs. The fact that it's the Clerkenwell's territory..." Alex trailed off, frowning. "Gangs like the Mali Boys, ACG, and NPK are sadistic and too volatile which isn't a good combination for anyone. The Mali Boys in particular could turn out like the defunct Richardson gang, but much less controlled in their activities since they are younger and its members grew up in war torn countries. So, the intelligence agencies are leaning towards the Clerkenwell Syndicate as their preference for which London gang takes control, right? They're a known factor in that position, careful with their decisions, and have proven to be a powerful organization with the numbers to back it up."

Crawley nodded. "Yes, we would prefer to deal with an organization that has members possessing mental and emotional maturity. It decreases the civilian casualties and means that they can actually be reasoned with."

Alex hummed. "That's what I thought. Mrs. Jones implied as much in our debates. So, someone kills off a key player in the Clerkenwell Syndicate and the Mali Boys happen to show up shortly afterwards but know nothing about the murder. Judging by the skill level of those mixed race teenagers, they don't belong to any of London's gangs. I think an outside force is trying to meddle with the gang war."

Grimacing, Crawley agreed with his assessment. "Hopefully, we'll learn something from the dagger, autopsy, and the two teenagers soon. Otherwise, we won't have any information to help counter whatever goal this third party is trying to reach. You've done good work today though. You'll be updated as necessary but you're about to be late to your tutoring session with Smithers and Redwing so I'll let you go for now. I'll see you for our usual training session at 2300 hours."

Nodding, Alex left the office. From there, he fell into the comfortable routine of tutoring and training sessions until the driver dropped him off at home at midnight. By this time, he was completely exhausted and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. It had been a very busy day of fifteen hours at the Bank. And he still had four more days of this to go.

Tuesday was no less eventful. He was given mini assignments in the field for the morning. Ones that were usually given to the junior agents, or even as a field test for those close to completing IONEC.

Doing a dead drop was his first task of the day. All he knew was that there was a package that needed to be dropped off at Victoria Park. He was to return to the Bank immediately after leaving the package on a specific bench. No lingering or exploring. There was no information for him on what was in the package, who was picking it up, or why it was being delivered. He could make some guesses though. Victoria Park was on the East End, right in the centre of the surrounding gang territories. His theory was that Jones had someone undercover with the gangs and this package was for that agent. Whether he was right though, either he'd never find out or only time would tell.

As much as it irked him to not know these things, Alex recognized that, for security purposes, agents often weren't given all the information. Especially junior agents, which was the level of work that this little assignment was classified as. The reasons for not being informed could range from simply an additional measure of protection for other agents' identities to part of a larger operation so it was safer if no one had all the pieces of the puzzle to suspecting a mole. The point was that everything in the military and intelligence community was on a need to know basis. After all, there was a reason for clearance levels. So, even though he hated not knowing, Alex refrained from asking and went to carry out the assignment to the letter. He could also appreciate the subtle point that Jones was making without telling him outright, he mused as he made his way to the park. All the usual experiences of being inducted into the service had been bypassed in his case. The bad was what he had noticed because he kept having near death experiences as a result of them. Now, she was letting him know that one of the good things in his specific case was being more thoroughly informed and trusted from the very beginning of becoming official.

The drop itself went smoothly. No one followed him or even cast a glance his way. With the half term break, he had changed out of his suit and into his usual clothes so he blended right in with all the other kids visiting the park on a weekday. He couldn't see anyone suspicious so there was no clue as to who the receiver of the package was. Then again, he'd be disappointed in Jones if she was working with people who were that incompetent for something like this. Because the receiver was definitely the one in a lot more danger in this scenario and should have certain skills to even be considered for the job. But that didn't matter right now. His part was done. It was time to return to headquarters.

However, as he was exiting one of the East End neighborhoods on his way back to the Bank, Alex heard a scuffle. Someone was struggling against a much larger person. Curious, he walked silently towards the source of the noise. Turning the corner into an alleyway, he saw two burly men holding rags to the faces of a young woman and a toddler. The two victims slumped in the men's arms, unconscious from inhaling the chloroform. He knew there were only seconds to act. The two men were very likely to have a driver on their way to pick them up.

Thinking fast, Alex shot two tranquilizer darts from his phone into the men's necks. Once they were down, he had two options: lay down and pretend to be unconscious as well so he could launch a surprise attack up close or scale the wall and wait for any accomplices to show up. The first option meant risking someone recognizing his face and identifying him later on so he chose the second one. A van showed up at the same time that he had just gotten onto the roof. At the sight of the unconscious men, the driver slowly got out of the van, gun at the ready. Alex texted Crawley as he waited until the driver was crouched by one of the unconscious men before releasing another dart. The driver slumped on top of his accomplice, making Alex mentally wince at the dart being pushed further into the man's thick neck under the weight of the driver. Still, Alex stayed in position. Although the likelihood of another accomplice showing up was low, it couldn't be ruled out.

Twenty minutes later, Crawley showed up with a forensics team, as well as a few agents to help detain the three unconscious men. Alex slipped away to the other side of the roof and dropped down onto the street, strolling up to Crawley from the side. The agents nearly tried to direct him somewhere else, probably with a severe warning that they usually issued to civilians as a scare tactic, but stopped when they saw Crawley acknowledge his presence with a silent nod. Baffled at how a schoolboy was being allowed near a crime scene, the agents were professional enough to stay silent but kept shooting him furtive glances. It annoyed him but he kept quiet as well, content to let them stare as they did their jobs. That is, until they tried to move the unconscious kidnapping victims for transport to the hospital while Crawley was busy looking at something the forensics team had found.

"Stop!" Alex shouted, treating the agents to a withering glare as he rushed forward, catching Crawley's attention too. They were visibly annoyed at being told what to do by a teenager but that only incensed him further, considering they were supposed to know better. He shouldn't have had to step in at all. Eyes flashing coldly, Alex gently took the small body into his own arms, scathingly scolding, "It's a child, not a sack of potatoes! Who taught you how to carry people?! Do you want to give her a concussion?!"

Carrying the child towards the van that had been prepared for hospital transport, where the woman was already settled in a bed, Alex left gaping agents behind in his wake. "Mr. Crawley, I'm going with the woman and child to make sure none of the idiots you call employees kill them off by accident," he called out harshly.

"Approved," Crawley answered, unbothered by the attitude. Although he hadn't seen what his agents had done, he knew the teen would have a good reason for interfering like this. Someone was getting a refresher course after he got to the bottom of what exactly went wrong. "I'll meet you at the hospital when things are wrapped up here."

With that, Alex closed the van's door and left Crawley to it. The agents going with them to the hospital got the implicit message that Alex wasn't one that they could mess with. But they didn't understand what he had to do with MI6 so they just did their best to ignore him. That was fine with Alex. Less questions, less staring.

Soon, they were at St. Dominic's, which came as a bit of a surprise to Alex because it was on the north side of the city and, therefore, not the closest. It was also an expensive private hospital so he hoped MI6 was paying the bill. He doubted that the woman could afford it. Entering the hospital, Alex crinkled his nose at the all too familiar smell of antiseptic as a doctor quickly took over from the agents to examine the patients. It was determined that the child was fine. They just had to wait for her to wake up. However, the woman would need some treatment for the heavy bruising around her arms and neck. It was unclear how long she was choked for so brain damage from lack of oxygen was a possibility.

Settling in a chair between the two patients, Alex waited for them to wake. It didn't take long. As soon as the child was conscious, she began reaching out for the young woman and crying out "Sky". Grimacing at her distress, Alex picked her up to keep the child calm and entertained, managing to find out that the child was three years old, named Olivia, and the young woman was her older sister. From the babbling, he somehow worked out that their parents were rarely home, either working to bring money in or passed out drunk somewhere.

At this point, the young woman woke up too. Alex called for the doctor while trying to keep Olivia from pouncing on her sister. Within minutes, the doctor came bustling in and performed some tests. Through the standard questions that were asked, they learned that the young woman's name was Skylar, she was twenty-two years old, and a lot of people had disappeared off the streets in the last two weeks but those who noticed were too scared to talk about it. She choked back tears as the events caught up with her and thanked him for saving them from the same fate as the others. Alex patted her hand awkwardly, assuring her that they were safe.

Satisfied that she was coherent enough to rule out brain damage, the doctor issued instructions to rest and talk as little as possible while they waited for results and left to go check on another patient. Finally, Alex gently deposited the disgruntled child by the young woman's side. Olivia instantly snuggled up to her sister, talking at a mile a minute, and Alex smiled at the scene. That was how Crawley found them a quarter of an hour later, where he introduced himself as a police officer and apologized for interrupting but asked a few more questions for the investigation. When he had all the answers he could get from Skylar, he instructed a couple of agents to stay for guard duty and gestured for Alex to leave with him. Unexpectedly, the child clung to Alex and wouldn't let go until he pinky promised that he would come back to visit.

Forty minutes later, they were back at headquarters. Once the door to his office was closed, Crawley said slowly, "How... never mind. I don't want to know how you managed to find trouble on such a low level assignment. The kidnappers all have a sword tattoo on them, with what seems to be a quite decorative letter "G" as the hilt."

"Gladius."

"Yes," Crawley nodded approvingly. They had gone over definitive markings and other unique characteristics of a myriad of criminal organizations in their lessons together. "They are sitting in interrogation right now but we haven't gotten any information out of them yet. From what we've gathered so far, these kidnappings are recent but not isolated incidences. What's your analysis?"

A pop quiz that had become quite routine the longer his training went on. Alex considered how to answer this. From the moment that Skylar had said there were a string of disappearances in the last two weeks, he had already suspected it had something to do with Gladius. He never expected to have it confirmed so quickly. And while he was relieved that MI6 was finally informed on the matter, he knew he would have to answer carefully so that Crawley would be guided to the right conclusions without revealing that he had a source of information on this already. Deciding to simply treat this as the analytical exercise it was, Alex answered, "Essentially, Gladius is a second SCORPIA but with only two founding members at the helm and less... unforgiving and ruthless when things don't go their way, as long as it is the more practical approach."

Alex paused. Now that he was thinking about things this way, using Gladius as a scapegoat when he knew that it would result in a stronger SCORPIA didn't seem like the best move. Then again, an internally unstable SCORPIA that had their sights on him wasn't appealing either. The only certain positive was that looking over your shoulder for one organization was better than doing so for two. He groaned inwardly at the mess. Only time would tell if he made the right choice. Yassen had said his choice was fine but the man was also a cold-blooded killer with different goals and an interest in only looking out for himself. Caring for Alex as well, to some extent.

Shaking his head to focus back on the problem at hand, he continued the analysis. "They don't take things as personally which means their organization is largely run the same way. While SCORPIA takes a lot of contracts, they also have their own personal side projects that are funded by individual board members. That isn't the case with Gladius which means it's almost certain that someone paid them to kidnap people. From what Skylar says, it's been going on for two weeks but none of the authorities have flagged the issue so we were unaware that it was even happening. Considering that the disappearances are mostly concentrated on the East End, which the poorest neighborhoods are located, the vulnerability of the victims and likelihood of alarms being raised was probably factored into Gladius' decision on who to kidnap. And with so much gang activity in that area, the few alarms that could have been raised would easily have been attributed to the gang war. So that leaves the question of who gave Gladius the contract and what this client wants with the kidnapped people."

"You're missing the fact that it does Gladius no good to kidnap people off the streets without being paid to do so," Crawley pointed out. "But otherwise, a good analysis so far. You have a point about the vulnerability of the victims though. Good catch. I'll set some people on that. Your recommendation on next steps?"

"Search the CCTV footage for anything that could point towards a kidnapping and see if we can follow their path to figure out where they take the victims," Alex replied. More reluctantly, he said, "Continue interrogation in the meantime but don't expect to get answers. Even if they give us information, there's no guarantee that these aren't just grunts who only know enough to carry out the kidnappings and not the overall plan. Also, have people patrolling the neighborhoods so there's a greater chance of preventing another kidnapping. If nothing comes of these, then I suppose someone will have to go undercover to bait Gladius into taking them."

"Not bad for a preliminary plan. However, patrolling the neighborhoods depends on whether the higher ups think it's worth spending resources on it rather than something else that may be more useful or pressing. And I would add questioning people in the neighborhoods to see if they've noticed anything unusual or if the victims have anything in common. That might give us a rough number of kidnappings that have happened so far or a clue as to how they decide who to kidnap at what time. The more we can find commonalities, the better our chances of figuring out the goal of Gladius' client."

"Interviewing the neighborhoods is good but they shouldn't have to fend for themselves," Alex objected.

Crawley held up a hand to signal him to stop. "Yes, I know you have a problem with us not stepping in when we can do something to help. But consider this, Alex: if assigning people to patrol the area takes our resources away from a more efficient way of taking down Gladius' operation, what would choose? If you'd still choose to assign patrols in that case, then what about if it takes resources away from preventing a nuclear disaster? What would be your choice then?"

Alex kept silent, which was answer enough. Crawley sighed and explained gently, "I know that the higher ups may not have such extreme circumstances facing that decision but the principle of weighing the benefits and risks is still the same. You're also used to dealing with one case at a time, not juggling multiple at once, so seeing the big picture isn't your strength right now."

"Fine," Alex grimaced. He understood but that didn't mean he liked it any better. "What about the scale of their operation?"

Crawley frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Are they kidnapping vulnerable people from all over the world or is it just confined to Britain? Or even just confined to London?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Crawley nodded and said, "Good point. The scale of the search through CCTV footage is going to have to expand. We don't have the resources to do all of it ourselves so I'll have to talk to Mrs. Jones about getting GCHQ and MI5 on board too."

"Do the three agencies cooperate often?"

"GCHQ constantly exchanges intelligence with each agency separately but MI5 and MI6 only cooperate with each other when both domestic and foreign intelligence are needed on a case." Glancing at the clock, Crawley added, "I think another lunch meeting is in order. Just the two of us this time. What would you like to eat, Alex? I'll phone the cafeteria to put in our orders and have the food delivered here."

Alex shrugged. "A sandwich is fine. Am I going to be in lunch meetings all week?"

"I would hope not," Crawley said dryly. "There are just some updates on yesterday's murder case and the child assassins that you should be aware of."

Three folders were pushed across the desk towards him. While Crawley put in their lunch order, Alex took the cue and flipped open the first one. It was an autopsy.

"Really?" Alex groaned. "Aren't you afraid I'll get sick in your office, reading this right before eating?"

Crawley raised an eyebrow. "I get a recording of your debriefs and file your reports. You don't have a history of nausea after seeing something gruesome so I think you'll be fine."

"You're still a bastard," Alex mumbled, which the man pretended not to hear.

Continuing to read, the autopsy told him that the Clerkenwell gang member had been killed by a slit to his throat. Analysis of the wound's length, width, and depth showed that the most likely murder weapon was a wire thin garrote. There were no other wounds.

Moving on to the second folder, there was a lab report on the dagger that had been retrieved from where it had embedded itself in a vehicle during yesterday's chase. Apparently, there was nothing special about the dagger's design but it had been coated with poison. Belladonna, to be more exact. Otherwise known as nightshade. Alex paled, recalling Jet's lessons on the poisonous plant. It was one of the most toxic in the world. Being a base, it could be countered with vinegar or something else that was high in acidity to dilute it. However, even if something acidic had been on hand for treatment, it still might not be enough for a direct injection into the bloodstream that the dagger would have delivered if it had hit its mark. It was possible to develop a tolerance for the poison but Alex highly doubted most people would do so, even if they were in this line of work. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn't been able to guide the agents to safety. The symptoms of nightshade poisoning ranged from dilated pupils and blurred vision to tachycardia, hallucinations, and convulsions. If the poison didn't manage to kill them, they'd still make for easy pickings for any hostiles in the area.

Opening the last folder, Alex saw a detailed report on every location that the two mixed race teenagers had been tracked to. They had ended up at a decommissioned army base in Kavos Bay, on the Greek island of Crete, where a charity called Kids Crisis Relief raised war orphans. GCHQ and technicians at MI6 were already working together to monitor and track anyone going in or out of the area. A couple of agents were dispatched to do ground surveillance. It was a waiting game now.

A knock sounded on the door, just as Alex finished reading the last of the files, and a cafeteria worker entered at Crawley's permission to deliver their lunches. They ate in silence for a few minutes, which Alex suspected was deliberate so he could have some time to digest the information. Eventually, he asked, "It's all linked, isn't it?"

"Go on," Crawley encouraged, looking up in interest.

So, Alex ran through his explanation, thinking out loud. "The autopsy concluded that a garrote was used to kill the Clerkenwell gang member. It's an easy enough weapon to hide so the killer had the element of surprise. The victim was no slouch in a fight though. So, a close range attack would leave defensive wounds. Except there were none, which was where the analysts got stuck because that indicates long range, ruling out the garrote. If they're right about the garrote though, then I think something else must've been used as well to facilitate the attack. Maybe a disguise. Or a device. And then, the chase by two groups of teenagers happened right afterwards which automatically makes them suspects just by close proximity to the crime scene. The Mali Boys can be ruled out. They don't have the finesse for this. If they did it, we'd be likely to find a dozen extra cuts and holes in the body, just for the hell of it." Alex paused, taking a sip of water from his lunch. "That leaves the mixed race teenagers, who are becoming more likely. They're younger than the Mali Boys which means a better chance of someone underestimating them. They were in possession of a poisoned weapon, are highly trained from what I can tell in their movements, seemed to be following someone else's orders, and immediately left the country for an orphanage. I'd be surprised if that charity is actually what they say they are too."

"How would they accomplish the long range attack with a garrote then?"

"They're kids," Alex said bluntly. "As long as they're acting like children, no one is going to look twice at them. Even when they aren't acting their age, no one's going to suspect them of anything more sinister than a prank. With a garrote, I suppose a disguise as a skipping rope would work. The victim's guard would drop at the sight of two kids jumping rope and they could get close enough to kill before the attack has even registered in the gangster's mind." He frowned and shook his head. "No, it's the wrong season for skipping ropes. Maybe a drone? I'm not sure but you get the idea."

Crawley stared at the teen for a moment. The junior agents - no, even most of the intermediate agents wouldn't have been able to make all those connections so fast with only those three files. This was pure, innate talent. And the method of how a garrote would work long range, that wasn't just an agent talking. No, that was the child that was still buried deep inside the teen, despite everything he'd been through. No wonder the analysts couldn't figure it out yet. This required the mentality of an intelligence agent and a child. Smithers was probably the only other person in their employ that could have possibly come to the same conclusion in so little time. Coughing lightly, he said, "Yes, I get the picture. I'll have the analysts run the possibilities in that direction. What do you make of the poison?"

Alex shrugged, finishing up his lunch. "Nightshade has been used for centuries. It's a classic assassination method."

"It has," Crawley nodded. "But the percentage of murders that actually use nightshade are very low."

"... you think it's a message?"

"We don't know. It's a possibility. Or it could just be, as you said, a classic method with no meaning at all."

"Okay... If it is a message, what does it mean?"

Crawley pushed another file towards him and kept talking while Alex flipped through it. "There is a mercenary group called Nightshade. We haven't covered this organization in our lessons yet, but they are the third most dangerous in the world after SCORPIA and Gladius. Nightshade is a much newer organization than the other two so we don't know much about them. They only came up on the intelligence community's radar about five years ago. What we do know is that all of their personnel are highly trained and they have taken major contracts that have resulted in acts of terror in six different countries so far."

As Alex listened and scanned through this file, he saw that the majority of the terrorist attacks committed by Nightshade had been concentrated in Europe. Brussels, Munich, Paris, and Madrid. One of the two that hadn't been in Europe was the collapse of the banking system in Singapore that had taken two hundred lives along with the destruction of the infrastructure. Washington was the other one that wasn't in Europe. Other than that, the only information they had was that Nightshade's sole interest was money, much like Gladius. There was no information on their leaders or size. Looking up from the file, he pointed out, "There's nothing here to indicate that they have child operatives. Why do you think the poison and teenagers are linked to Nightshade?"

"You're right," Crawley acknowledged. "But it's because we don't have much information on them that the possibility of those teenagers being associated with them is greater. With that kind of training, there has to be an organization backing them. If you don't count yourself or child soldiers in countries ravaged by war, there are no currently operational organizations who employ children."

"So... process of elimination says that this possibility is worth looking into?"

Crawley shrugged. "It's better to look into something and turn up with nothing than to dismiss the matter and end up facing the consequences."

"Fair enough," Alex muttered.

That concluded their lunch meeting and Alex was sent out on a surveillance assignment to monitor the activity of a modern flat in Finchley, owned by an entrepreneur in her mid-twenties. Considering that no one was home, it was a boring assignment and he just took note of all the possible entry and exit points, any security installed, and the few blind spots that he could find without entering the residence. After that, he paid a short visit to Skylar and Olivia at St. Dominic's since it was on the way back, bringing little treats for them. Satisfied that they were still safe, he returned to the Bank, where he spent the rest of the workday helping the R&D and forensics departments on the ninth and tenth floors with their lab work. This was much more interesting. Whatever knowledge he lacked, someone was always around and willing to explain things to him so he learned quite a bit on the job. When the workday finished, he went straight for tutoring and training on the eleventh floor, firing off more questions for Redwing and Smithers to answer about the lab work he just completed. By the end of the therapy session with Flint, he was even more exhausted than the night before.

Wednesday was much calmer, compared to the previous two days. That did not mean it was less busy. Just a lot more boring. He spent the morning in Crawley's office, writing reports and filling out paperwork for the assignments he did yesterday. Since the dead drop assignment had been complicated by the subsequent kidnapping attempt, Alex decided to tackle that first. It took him three hours to cover the paperwork for both of those events. The kidnapping even needed some PR work, which Crawley gave him an impromptu crash course on, to make sure a journalist didn't raise the alarm and cause a city-wide panic. Then, he spent another hour on writing the report for the little surveillance assignment. Once those were finished, he pulled out the work experience forms that Mr. Bray had given him and filled out the section that required him to describe what he did each day. Obviously, he couldn't write down the truth and break the OSA. So, he spent half an hour tweaking the narrative to make it sound more normal. Like saying that he helped analyze stock market trends to maximize returns on investments for the bank instead of examining bank accounts for criminal activity and finding potential Yakuza transactions that indicated a large operation in the works. He read through it a few times to make sure he knew his lies, just in case a teacher ever asked him about it. Only then did he take a break. With lunch meetings the previous two days, Alex was looking forward to just eating a meal for once. But... perhaps a little company wouldn't be too bad. Especially since he was unfamiliar with almost everyone at the Bank who weren't his bosses or training officers. Not sure if it was allowed, he turned to the man and asked hesitantly, "Could you tell me where Ben Daniels' office is?"

"1308," Crawley replied without looking up from the file he was reading.

"Thanks."

Quietly leaving the office, Alex took two flights of stairs, down to the thirteenth floor that intermediate agents worked out of, and located the office. The door was closed and there was nothing to indicate whether his former unit mate was in. He knocked.

"Come in!" Ben's muffled voice called out. "It's unlocked."

Opening the door, Alex was greeted by the sight of Ben's posterior sticking up over the edge of the desk. "Umm... I could come back later?"

The man straightened up and span around so fast that he almost pulled a muscle. Eyes wide, Ben exclaimed, "Cub?! What are you doing here? How did you find my office? Why are you in my office?"

Before Alex could answer, the man had devolved into curses as he continued to fumble with the papers that he'd been retrieving from the ground. Once the file was finally in order and the curses stopped, Alex replied amusedly, "Completing my school's work experience program during our half term break. I wanted to see if you were free for lunch and Mr. Crawley told me where to find you."

Ben perked up at the mention of lunch. "Yes, let's get something to eat! I'm starving. And I could really use a break from this paperwork. Did you bring something to eat or are you buying from the cafeteria?"

"Buying," Alex answered as they headed down to the eighth floor.

"Same," Ben said conversationally. He made a jerking motion to correct the path he had been taking to the elevator so he could follow the teen. "You know, most people try to avoid the stairs, Cub."

Alex shrugged. "I've been sitting in Mr. Crawley's office all morning to do paperwork."

"... Do you do paperwork often?"

Shaking his head, Alex said, "No. This week is the first time I've done it. Usually, it's Mr. Crawley who files everything for me. But I'm becoming more official now so I'm learning how to do it. Plus, I have to actually work to get work experience credits, you know."

"Lucky bastard," Ben commented playfully with a grin. "That's a lot of paperwork that Mr. Crawley has done for you. Have you been at the Bank the whole week?"

"Yeah," Alex hummed as they entered the cafeteria.

Letting out a gasp of mock hurt as they waited in line, the man exclaimed, "And it took you two days to remember me?"

"Well, you're forgettable," Alex shot back.

Chuckling, Ben said, "Ouch, that's mean, Cub."

Alex just rolled his eyes, putting in his order. Once Ben had finished putting his in, he retorted, "Like you and K-unit haven't said worse to each other."

"True," Ben admitted. "You need to have thick skin in the army. Anyone who can't take the verbal abuse doesn't last. It's practically a bonding experience."

"Welcome to the military, where it's a requirement to be a bastard," Alex said sarcastically as they got their food and found a table to sit at.

"Amen to that," Ben laughed. "What've you been doing this week so far?"

Alex shrugged, biting into his sandwich. "Other than paperwork? Some analytical work, learning how to submit the financial stuff for missions, and a couple of small assignments here and there. I did an hour on the Communications floor too. What have you been up to?"

Ben whistled. "Wow, Mrs. Jones is keeping you busy. I'm still stuck at my desk doing paperwork and research. It got boring ages ago. Anything interesting you can share to liven things up for me?"

Pretending to think about it, Alex tapped his chin for effect. "Hmm... nope."

"Oh come on," Ben said in disbelief. "Everything interesting always happens around you, trouble magnet!"

Alex laughed. "Unfortunately, yes. But it's usually above your clearance level. I'll give you a hint though, only because everyone already knows the general idea of the current state of things out there."

"Yes?" Ben asked eagerly.

"I've been running into things related to the gang war." Alex paused. "The next part I'm going to tell you is something you should keep to yourself." He waited for the man to agree before continuing. "I was basically the catalyst for the gang war."

"WHAT?!"

Alex glared at the man, who looked around them to see quite a few people staring at them for his outburst. Ben turned back towards the teen sheepishly and leaned forward after making sure no one was within earshot, hissing, "What do you mean you were the catalyst? You're the agent who single-handedly brought down the Hunt Syndicate?!"

"Classified," Alex smirked.

Ben groaned. "What am I talking about? Of course, you were. Because who else would it be? How do you manage to always get into so much trouble? You're having lunch with me for the rest of the week too so that I can be sure you aren't about to die for that hour of each day at the very least. I'm surprised you didn't manage to find trouble during lunch for the last two days you spent here."

"I was in lunch meetings."

"... Both days?!"

"Yes."

"With who?"

"Jones, Morris, and Crawley for the first day. Just Crawley for the second."

Ben stared at the teen. Opened his mouth. Didn't know what to say. And closed it. That repeated a few times before he finally managed to get something out. "The only people who have that many meetings with those three are themselves. Or possibly the senior and elite agents but those aren't over lunch. I've barely even caught a glimpse of them in the past month. How did you manage to have two lunch meetings with them in two days?!"

"Because they're always the ones who deal with me?"

"Right..."

The conversation came to a lull as Ben tried to process what that meant. He still wasn't sure where Alex stood in the ranks and couldn't figure out if the top bosses dealt with the teen because of rank or secrecy over the teen's age. During this lull, Alex pulled out his phone and explored his newfound access to the Japan files that Jones had promised him as he started on his soup. He'd already begun looking at these files during dinner in the last two days but an hour each day wasn't enough time to go through everything and meals were the only time available to him for this, unless he wanted to pull an all-nighter. Coming to a file on Hitachi, the company that he found the Fibonacci sequence in, he frowned.

"Fox, you're in on the Japanese situation too?"

Ben startled, looking between Alex and the phone in the teen's hand. He decided he was better off not asking questions. "Yeah, I got added on Monday to the team of people doing research on it."

Alex narrowed his eyes. Monday was when he found the sequence and Ben just so happened to be assigned research on the same company that day? That couldn't be a coincidence. But it was unlikely that the man knew it. Better prepare his former unitmate for what might be coming then. He knew he'd have wanted to know beforehand if it was him in the man's place. "Do you train or workout after sitting at your desk all day?"

"Sometimes... why?" Ben was at a loss for where the teen was going with this.

"I think you should start doing it seriously everyday," Alex answered slowly.

"What do you know that I don't?" Ben asked warily.

"Straightforward and easy assignments are likely to change for you if you stick around me long enough," Alex reminded him. Then, he recounted his part in the Hitachi files, finishing up by saying, "Now, tell me it's just a coincidence."

"It could be," Ben protested weakly. "Besides, how do you know it isn't just research instead of a mission?"

"I was put on standby that day," Alex simply answered.

"They're sending you out against the Yakuza?!" Ben hissed.

"And there's a good chance you're joining me, if I know Mrs. Jones," Alex retorted in a low voice, conscious of the public setting they were in. "So, I'd suggest learning Japanese on your own if you haven't already. Anyways, the Yakuza isn't my main worry. One of SCORPIA's board members has links to the Yakuza and this operation looks like it's right up their alley. That's more worrying. And probably a part of why I'm being pulled in, besides my contribution to the file. As for my safety, all the signs point towards Mrs. Jones having a plan for me. While it's probably not something I'll like, I'm reasonably certain it doesn't include permanent damage or my death. The other people she's putting in place around me though..."

Alex trailed off with a pointed look. Ben paled as he got the message. That he was marked as a pawn for something bigger. That it was unclear whether he was meant to live or die. Or whether the bosses even cared either way. It was a frightening thought.

Having given the man plenty to think about, they continued eating in silence. Ben was busy analyzing the situation in his head and planning out what he could do to prepare for a dangerous mission that may or may not be happening. Alex returned to reading the intelligence reports. When both of them finished their lunch, they headed back to work.

"Remember what I said," Alex told him, just before they parted ways. "And maybe reconsider sticking around me. That tends to shorten people's lifespans."

Alex walked away, leaving Ben to stare after him with a lot of conflicted feelings. On one hand, he had signed up for a dangerous career and was excited at the prospect of another mission so he wouldn't have to sit behind a desk anymore. However, he never expected to have to worry about his bosses not caring about his survival. Or even actively wanting him dead, for whatever reason in the worst case scenario, he thought with dread settling on top of the food in his stomach. He was starting to feel like it had been a mistake to leave the SAS. On the other hand, he was thrilled that he might have the chance of working with Alex again, even if he hated the implications of what it meant for the teen. Touched, that Alex cared enough to warn him, even if the teen was probably breaking the OSA. Angry, that the teenager was the only one who cared about his survival in this agency and took it as a duty to inform him of what the bosses should have, on top of all the other responsibilities that Ben didn't know about but knew the teen had. And absolutely heartbroken, that Alex's first reaction to danger was to protect everyone by pushing them away. Proud, that Alex could and would protect people. But furious that one of the ways was to isolate himself. That the teen had been taught that he was a danger to everyone around him and just accepted it as an everyday fact that he should go it alone. Come to think of it, his previous guardian's death - if he had guessed correctly - was most likely someone's twisted way of teaching that concept to Alex. Teenagers should be able to rely on the adults around them, not vice versa. He took a deep breath and determinedly nodded to himself. The teen's previous guardian may not have had the means to survive their world but he did. And he would damn well do his best to show Alex that he wasn't going anywhere, come fire or rain, hell or high water.

While Ben stood in the hallway and fought to clear his mind, Alex returned to Crawley's office, where he was given some files on a small, but up and rising, pharmaceutical company. His task was to plan out an assignment for a junior agent to investigate this company for anything suspicious. He had until the end of Friday to complete it. All the logistics, including cover identities, was his responsibility. Once he was done and he had chosen an agent for the mission, which he would be given personnel files for, he would have to submit it to mission control for approval. It was like planning for the mock assassination all over again. But this time, he had plenty of resources and it wouldn't be himself going into the field. Still, there were a lot of things to sort out so he planned to spend as much of the workdays as possible working on this.

Two hours later though, this plan had been interrupted. Crawley picked up his ringing office phone and spoke a few words. Then, turning towards Alex, he said, "We're needed in Mrs. Jones' office."

Alex sighed and followed the man back up to the sixteenth floor. He wondered what it would be like to work here without seeing the top bosses every single day. Probably a longer life expectancy, he thought as they entered the office to see that Mr. Morris was there too.

Once they had taken their seats, Mrs. Jones got straight to the point. "We've just received news that Gladius' headquarters has suffered a chemical attack. Nerve gas was used so everyone in the building is dead. The French were alerted anonymously within minutes of the attack. They are working on containment and disposal to prevent it from leaking out into the public."

"These are the important members of the organization who were killed in the attack," Mr. Morris took over, handing each of them a file.

Alex flipped it open and saw a man with a very familiar haircut amongst them. An Anubis silhouette on one half of the head. Suddenly, he knew exactly what this meeting was about.

"Half of their top players are dead," Crawley muttered.

"That's not what worries me," Mrs. Jones said. "Both of their leaders and the other half of their top players have disappeared. The DGSE have found a scorpion and the shape of Belgium burned into Gladius' front door."

"The French have checked in with the VSSE and the ADIV," Mr. Morris informed them. Belgium's civilian and military intelligence agencies, Alex's mind supplied from his lessons. "After a preliminary investigation, the only clue they can find to explain this is that there was a possible sighting of Yassen Gregorovich, the Gladius assassin, and a 14K leader in Brussels this past weekend."

"So the theory is that Gregorovich was Gladius' target but the assassin failed and SCORPIA is retaliating?" Crawley asked.

"It would seem that way," Jones agreed quietly.

"The analysts think that the disappearances are likely because SCORPIA has taken them for interrogation," Morris added.

"SCORPIA is planning to take over Gladius," Crawley realized in faint horror.

"What does this mean for us?" Alex asked. Inside, he was reeling from the scope of Yassen's retaliation. Sure, he knew it would be bad but he had thought more along the lines of a bomb or a gruesome killing of one or two important members. Not... this. Then again, he supposed a bomb was too loud for Yassen's personality. A chemical attack was more subtle, but no less powerful. Actually, it might have sent a more threatening message than his own ideas. But the ambition... expanding SCORPIA didn't seem to support Yassen's goal of retirement. Did it? He made a mental note to ask the man.

"In short, SCORPIA's increase in power will surpass the analysts' expectations," Jones answered. "While their takeover of Gladius will limit the number of casualties that a war between the two organizations would have caused, it still means there will be a struggle between the lower level members and SCORPIA as they try to resist. There will be a cull so I think we can expect quite a their few bodies to turn up in the coming months. However, that also means that our own people who were placed inside Gladius are going to be in much greater danger."

"Are you pulling them out then?" Alex questioned doubtfully.

Surprisingly, Jones stated, "Some of them, yes. But you know SCORPIA best. We need you to work with Mr. Crawley to determine who needs to be pulled out and who would likely have what it takes to keep their cover."

Alex stared at her. That was a lot of agents' lives counting on him to make the right decision. But she was right. He had unique insights into the organization that they didn't. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Okay, I'll do it."

"Thank you," Jones said softly. "Since other agencies are in the same position, they may be requesting your help in this too. It's not certain though. After all, you are still a foreign agent to them and letting you in on the decisions would compromise their own agents' identities. But if they do request your service, would you be willing to help?"

"... Yeah, okay, I'll help them too," Alex replied heavily. It was a huge responsibility but it really wasn't a choice. He'd hate himself if he didn't do it and someone died. Especially because he had helped to bring this situation about in the first place.

Jones nodded briskly. "That's settled then. But you're about to be late for your tutoring session so I'll let you go for now."

Recognizing the dismissal, Alex left the office to go find Redwing and Smithers, unaware of the disagreement about to take place in the room he had just walked out of. A few moments after the door closed, Morris rounded on Jones, having just figured out what her long term plan for the teen was.

"I don't agree with this," he said bluntly. "You're not actually leaving him any choice for his future."

"I have showed him other options," Jones replied blandly while Crawley looked between them, not sure what was happening.

"Yes, all the administrative and scientific career options within the intelligence services," Morris emphasized.

"Those are transferable to other lines of work," Jones countered.

"And the training? He doesn't need to have such an in-depth political education or know how to plan an op for other people," Morris retorted. "Not for the kind of work he usually does for us."

"Extra education gives him more options," Jones replied dismissively.

"Options within our business, more like," Crawley said under his breath. He was beginning to see the direction of the deputy head's thoughts. Usually, he made it a point to know what was going on in any situation. But, in Alex's case, he had decided long ago that he was really better off not knowing. So he didn't ask questions and he didn't think too deeply. John and Ian couldn't blame him from their graves if he hadn't known enough to do anything about Alex's situation, right? Even in his mind, it was a weak excuse and he knew it. But it provided him some comfort for serving his country over protecting a child. Some days, he absolutely despised the person that he'd become.

Both of the heads ignored him. Instead, Morris asked, "What about getting him further involved with SCORPIA and the other intelligence agencies? That only pushes him further into this business, trapping him."

"Inevitable with his decision to continue working for us," Jones said evenly.

"Not the way you're doing it," Morris snapped. "None of this is a typical agent's career! You could honor his decision to continue working for us without making him a rare, high demand agent! The way things are going, you're not just trapping him into a lifetime of service. You're grooming him."

Jones was silent, finally letting her interest in her deputy head's rationalization show. Eventually, she commented quietly, "I was wondering when someone would figure it out."

"He's not suited to what you have in mind for him!" Morris argued.

"It's the only way I'm able to protect him and pave a future for him."

"Physically protect him, maybe. But what about from his own mind? He's nowhere near ready and I doubt his psychological profile will ever be ready to take on this task."

"I know," Jones said forcefully, a hint of desperation in her voice. "But what am I supposed to do? He insists on continuing in this line of work. I'd rather he continue where I can ensure he has what he needs to become a well-adjusted adult than to have him work for some agency with unknown intentions towards him! With the amount of trouble he attracts, it's impossible for him to have a normal espionage career. He already has powerful enemies and will only keep making more, no matter which path he takes, even if he withdraws from our world completely! The only way I can think of to protect him is by putting him in an untouchable position."

"Untouch - " Morris cut himself off, eyes widening. He ran through everything in his head once more while Crawley looked between them like he was watching a tennis match. The two heads had lost him again, somewhere around the time grooming was mentioned.

"Oh god," Morris breathed, shaking his head. "I underestimated how big your plan for him is. He's not ready for either of the things you've got in mind. And that's not even counting the fact that this breaks all the laws into pieces!"

"I know," Jones replied, swallowing hard. "Believe me, I know. But Alan set him on a path that can't be backtracked from so the only way is forward. That's why I'm letting him continue going to school, making him official in the SAS and our agency, and having him do therapy sessions with Dr. Flint. He needs the support, now and in the future. I've left room for his path to change if he's better off not following my plan. The decision is in his hands. I'm just laying the foundation as another option for him to choose. But he needs time to develop into his role, whatever it might be. He needs time to show us what his full capabilities are before it can be decided what kind of role he can take on. Time that I'm depending on the two of you to give him."

Morris stared at her, trying to figure out what she meant. When he did, all he could do was curse for a good couple of minutes. "You didn't leave me an option! I'm going to have to extend my term as deputy head and push my retirement later to accommodate your plans, aren't I?!"

"Unfortunately, yes," Jones grimaced, giving him an apologetic look.

Crawley, having finally figured out what the plan was from the retirement comment, made an exception to keeping his composure and let out a string of curses too. Maybe he really should have looked into Alex's situation more deeply.