Supreme Court Judge Michael Dean was conducting the review into Covert Operations after the publication of Edward Pleasure's damning piece on the use of a teenage operative by the CIA and MI6. The unnamed fifteen year old agent had disappear nine months ago used in a Honey Trap, which had gone spectacularly wrong. The journalists article had been a major embarrassment to British, American and Australian governments. The boy in question officially presumed dead. His enquiry was going to be damning, but Joe Byrne was an alias, the actual operative had retired, hidden from any repercussions. Not so his counterparts in London and Sydney, Blunt was facing jail for child endangerment of his legal ward and Australians suspension of black ops, was a ruse as their dirty tricks division morphed into another subsection still acting beyond the law.

...

Everything went wrong again on the 29th August, four days before Alex was due to start High School with Sabina. His promised new life was a nonstarter. There were a team of FBI agents in the Pleasures house in Rockridge, following a serious security alert. SCORPIA never forgave and never forgot.

"Are Edward, Liz and Sabina targets?" Alex knew only by association with him as Cray was long dead and Edward was back writing articles not any huge exposé.

"We are only instructed to take you into protective custody, Alex. The exact nature of the threat is on a need to know basis and I'm afraid I do not have high enough clearance for the full Department of Homeland Security briefing. You have been assessed as a high risk target as of midnight last night."

The fifteen year old sighed and stood up. "I'm going upstairs to pack. It won't take long, just one bag of stuff." They had planned a shopping trip on Saturday for school things and a new wardrobe, to disguise Alex as a relative of Liz's, his present alias as Alexander Rothbury was now burned.

The room was clean and tidy, unlike Sabina's bomb site. He stripped off the bedding and turned over the mattress. He pulled the few items of clothing in the closet into his small rucksack. He left the books as he'd read them and he no longer had any old photographs, items all left in storage in London. His spare trainers were downstairs. Toothbrush and a small bag of toiletries, a comb were picked up from the bathroom. He had no phone, nor a computer. The last few items were pulled from the laundry basket and put in a plastic bin bag, to be washed at the safe house. He pulled his coat out of the hall closet and said emotionlessly. "Right I'm ready to go." He was spared having to say goodbye to Sabina and Liz as they were out riding this morning. The agents busied themselves with code words and arranging a decoy vehicle. Looked like they were going out the back door with a car parked around by their neighbours house. "Bye Edward, Thanks for everything. I probably won't be able to keep in contact, as that's how witness protection works. Love to Liz and Sabina. Sorry about this." It was a mess, but Alex's life was. Better he left and the Pleasures lived long and happy lives. Better than Jack's fate. Alex wondered if he should change into a red shirt, as all he could imagine was the bullet hitting as he exited the house.

The FBI lead joked being the kid was tense, white as a sheet and visibly scared. "Its just protocol, kid. Nothing bad is going to happen."

Alex was tempted to laugh like a hyena, but just smiled darkly. "I was shot in the chest by a sniper ten months ago and two months ago my last guardian was incinerated by a car bomb. The worst has already happened and surviving is becoming a chore."

…..

LA was a huge urban sprawl of low houses in all directions. Perfect place for hiding a kid with two agents acting as mom and dad. Alex looked out from his attic room window, over the well lit neighbours and felt like running. Only ten or so miles from Bel Air and the mansion where Cassian James lived, only Alex would never put a friend in the firing line again, not since Tom got shot. He did not feel like sleeping, in fact he hated the knowledge that nightmares would be a certainty. His mind already worrying about the family he'd been forced to leave, the Pleasures who had offered to adopt him. Tears came but he wrapped his hands tightly over his mouth so no sounds emerged.

Alex laid on the bed and every forty minutes or so gazed at the illuminated radio alarm's clock. At 6AM he got up and went downstairs to start his new life, not really caring about another new name.

"Morning Agents."

"Its Kath and Mike, Xander."

"Not Xander, which is about as dorky as Alexander. I'd prefer Lex or Lexie."

"We were informed you knew the ropes concerning aliases." huffed Mike over the kids non-compliance with the house rules as stated last night.

Alex made no attempt to mimic an American accent, nor was he going to answer to Xander Carson. "Legends are old hat. Personally, I just want the bastards to find me and do the job properly. Nice bomb for a quick exit like the one that killed Jack or my parents. Got the one in Nice wrong, considering Edward is still breathing. Though Uncle Ian's two bullets in the head wasn't too shabby. Just a word of warning, don't get in the way." Alex then noted the box of Cheerios on the counter and went to find a bowl, spoon and milk.

As he trudged back upstairs to his room with his breakfast, the teenager was amusing to overhear Kath on her mobile spouting the words 'suicidal' and 'severely depressed'. Maybe he'd be sent to a loony bin, to spend the rest of his days in drugged out haze.

Alex got was that he was here on house arrest. No going outside, no interaction with anyone but his new 'parents'. He had no books, no interest in the tv, which was the only source of outside information in the house. His room sterile and was unlikely to ever feel like home. He pulled a pen out of his bag and on the bad green wallpaper inscribed a line for the first day of his exile from life. He quietly said to himself "They should have called me Edmond Dantes."

It was at lunch, tuna sandwiches, that Alex asked the all important question. "Are you ever going to tell me what the threat is or am I going to be kept in the dark?"

Mike put his sandwich down and took a long drink of his low alcohol beer. "As my boss Kath is not here, I can level with you, seeing as its your life on the line. The high security is temporary. MI6 fucked up and should have the situation under control within days. They had a prison break, from the place serious bad guys go, the ones that don't appear on any documentation. High up SCORPIA agent they've held for two years absconded."

Alex felt like vomiting and blurted out "Yassen Gregorovich. I was told he died on Air Force One."

"Right, the Cray business. Cray was SCORPIA? That I did not know."

"Not really only paid for their services. Just hired Yassen in for cleaning up, as we crossed paths in Nice and London." Alex could only hope Yassen did not hold him responsible for his imprisonment and the unfortunate incidents with Rothmans and Rahzim.

Alex then left his lunch untouched and went back upstairs.

….

At four he was woken up by the shout of "You told him!" from Kath, followed by the lead agent screaming upstairs "Lex, Downstairs now."

At least the Xander nickname had been binned. "You called, mom." He stated in a mock American accent.

"I take it from Mike that you know why it is imperative not to act rashly and that we need to keep a very low profile." The woman stated earnestly, her cover stated she worked as a minor clerk downtown. Mike was supposedly caring for their son with serious allergies. Alex reminded of the quote from some movie he'd watched with Tom in the good old days "Allergic to bullets!"

…..

Yassen Gregorovich never existed, Cossack, the infamous SCORPIA assassin was presumed dead and Yasha had died in a Dacha on the outskirts of Moscow twenty years ago. Who was he now? hunter had told him he could be whoever he wanted to be. He was luckier than Hunter, he was alive. SCORPIA now reduced to two surviving board members, after he had killed Duvall and Shackell. The Grimaldis and Chase liquidated by Agents working for Dr. Three. With an interpol alert on his escape, Cossack was a wanted man by friend and foe alike.

Albert 'Seamus' Doherty woke to feel the ropes binding his wrists and ankles.

The soft, accentless diction of his past associate broke the silence "Are you willing to help an old friend? You are wanted by Interpol, the Americans and your old friends in the IRA. I have a heavy bounty on my own head. Together, we can survive this storm."

A single pool of light from the hall illuminated the bedroom in this not so safe house, his assailant was hidden in the shadows, but the SCORPIA board member knew the voice of the assassin, formerly SCORPIA's most successful and ruthless killer. "You are delusional if you think Dr. Three will leave either of us alive, Cossack."

The Russian moved into light. "Not if we prove ourselves truly ruthless and rise from the ashes to become either reluctant allies or formidable foes to the good doctor. We do not have the luxury of retirement, it is either fight or die. I found my death most inconvenient and I must repay MI6 in kind for their less than stellar hospitality."