Alex was sixteen when he made the ultimatum, "I'll do it, but on my terms."

MI6 didn't give much thought to what those terms meant until nearly eight years later, when Alex Rider slammed the door to Operations Control open.

"Everyone out."

The operatives filed out perhaps a little more quickly than was polite. Senior Operative Alex Rider was known for his patience, his empathy, his loyalty. But also for his unfailingly perfect scores on the shooting range, and his tendency to drop into agency hand-to-hand combat to teach their trainers some new dirty tricks he'd picked at an ever-frustratingly vague "somewhere else".

The room was empty, apart from Tulip Jones, her personal assistant, and Derek Smithers. "Agent Rider. It's good to see you."

"Did you know?"

Tulip blinked. Twice. "Did I know what?"

The manila folder was carelessly thrown onto the main operations desk at the centre of the large room that oversaw covert operations under the direction of Tulip Jones. Photographs spilled out. Alan Blunt meeting with a teenager. A still frame from a CCTV camera showing them cracking open a safe. The same teenager a few weeks later, in a hospital bed. "This is Lawrence. He broke three bones, was shot twice and one of his kidneys had to be removed."

"Oh." Alex looked positively murderous, so it was perhaps understandable that Tulip didn't really have much to say, other than to helplessly offer a few more details, "Alan left us about three months ago. They gave him a new department, top secret. We don't know where he is." She glanced down at the damning images, "Nor what he was doing. You know me better than that Alex."

"He broke the rules. No children. No teenagers. Not a single one anywhere in the intelligence community." Alex jabbed his finger down on the photo of Blunt. There was an awkward silence, punctuated only by the very angry breathing of a very angry operative. "I'll give you two weeks to find him and shut him down. If you can't, or won't, I'll deal with it myself."

Tulip flinched as the door slammed behind Hurricane Rider on his way out to blow some steam off before collapsing into her nearby chair. "Any chance we can find Alan before Alex does?"

Smithers grimaced, and shook his head, "The best we could do would be put out a bulletin."

"And what would that say?" Tulip shook her head ruefully, "Wanted for Crimes Against Common Decency? Come on Derek, you know better than that."

Picking up the folder, Smithers opened it and looked inside for a minute before showing her another photo. Lawrence, tied down to a chair, three masked figures around him. 'Interrogation,' her brain filled in.

"Well," he said, "At least it wouldn't be inaccurate. Interpol hates it when we send them bullshit."

Alan Blunt was found dead in a safehouse in Edinburgh two weeks and a day later. Suicide, said the autopsy. Murder, said the internal report. No one had ever accused Rider of being subtle, and the "CHILDREN DON'T BELONG" scrawled in paint next to the body was nothing if not blatant.

The second time was more civilized. Let it never be said that MI6 didn't learn lessons quickly when pragmatism suggested that they should.

"Agent Rider, we need you to come in. We've got a situation that requires your… personal attention."

No one knew quite how it had slipped through the net. An entire compound, an entire school even, of MI5 operatives, all under the age of 18. They went through basic training, they learnt languages, they learnt self-defence. But, more importantly to Alex, they went on operations. Often being used as part of an elaborate cover story, always on the fringe of danger. Just close enough for it to be potentially lethal, just far enough for them to have lucked out on losing too many operatives. Six deaths in eighty years.

Senior Operative Alex Rider was in their head office that afternoon, ceramic gun in a concealed holster beneath his jacket slipping through the metal detectors.

"We don't understand the concerns of MI6," Meryl Spencer said bluntly, "No one suspects a child."

"SCORPIA disagrees." Alex sighed, "We had to extract four of your "agents" from a situation in Berlin last night. Two of them are in hospital, and we only expect one of them to make it."

"We've only ever had six deaths!"

"And now it's going to be seven. And that's seven too many."

"The work we do is essential." Meryl's hand slammed onto the table, "You have no right to shut us down."

"At 14, I was hired by MI6 to prevent a crazy man from killing every child in the country. At 15, I was recruited by SCORPIA to assassinate the Deputy Head of Operations at MI6. I escaped their clutches and agreed to work for MI6 on the condition that no children would again be used in intelligence work anywhere." Alex gestured out of the window towards the compound, "I don't disagree that what you're doing here is more ethical than anything else I've found so far, but let me put it like this: what would the prime minister say if this was leaked to the press?"

"We have nearly two hundred agents!" Meryl pushed themselves up out of their chair and paced the room, "We can't just shut down overnight. What about the operations they're on?"

"You don't have two hundred agents, you have two hundred children." Alex adjusted the cold weight of his gun into a more comfortable position, "I suggest you pass over all operations to MI5 Operations immediately and then finish their education."

Meryl collapsed, rubbing their forehead. "It's going to be problematic."

Alex paused on his way out, "If you feel any of the operations are too sensitive to be disturbed, feel free to pass them along to MI6. I'll deal with them immediately and personally. As a favour."

It went without saying that he meant a favour to the children in the operations, not to MI5.

Two weeks and a day later, the entire executive board of the Hello Earth foundation was found hogtied to a lamp-post outside MI5 headquarters with an envelope containing enough evidence to condemn them to a long and difficult time in jail. Courtesy of Agent Rider, a few of the braver ones suggested, before being told to shut up and get on with their jobs.

The next few years were quieter. A few attempts from a few agencies rapidly shut down by an interpol bulletin, a manhunt, and the deadly grace of Orion stalking the shadows enough of a threat to discourage anyone that might even think about bringing teenagers or children into the back alley of espionage.

It was rather surprising, then, that the third situation that Senior Operative Alex Rider found himself tangled into started with an interpol bulletin from an unknown source.

"They got hacked, and all they did was put up this bulletin." Smithers passed it over the table. "Urusov Yanovich: Wanted for Crimes Against Common Decency."

Alex picked up the file and flicked through it, "He looks fairly clean. Drugs, guns, the usual. Are we sure there's anything in this - who were the hackers?"

"That's where it gets interesting." Smithers pulled a second folder out from his desk and passed it over. "He's known as Dendroaspis. Common associates are.."

"He's SCORPIA." Alex cut him off. "I met him once. Nice fellow, but a bit off. Liked poisons a bit too much."

"They could be trying to get you to target him for them." Smithers shrugged, "We certainly have found anything on it."

"Tell Tulip I'm taking vacation." Alex scooped up both folders. "I'll have a look into it. I haven't been to Moscow since that business with Sarov."

The headlines two weeks and a day later said it all: "Respected businessman found dead at home - police seeking no witnesses."

It was in the same basement room that Tulip, Smithers and Alex met again.

"SCORPIA?"

"He left. Or was fired." Alex frowned, "He was using children to run drugs, even some hits. I finished what he started, left the kids in the care of their government."

"In Russia?" Smithers pulled a face, "I'm not sure you did them any favours."

"Kidnapping them across international borders isn't exactly a great idea." Alex paced the room, "But that isn't the point. I couldn't find any source for the information. It just came out of nowhere. Someone used me to clean up their mess."

"You could have said no." Tulip was leaning against the desk, "Left them to it and watched to see who came next."

"It's likely this was a test," Smithers agreed, "They wanted to know what you'd do."

"And now they know." Alex nodded. "I'll clean it up and get the kids out."

Smithers phone buzzed. He frowned as his eyes scanned down the message. "And now they're going to ask you to do it again, whoever they were. I hope you know what you're doing Agent Rider."

"Who is it?"

"Joe Byrne, CIA." Tulip flinched as Smithers continued, "They've sent supporting evidence direct to the servers we use for your Orion identity. Whoever they are, they're very well informed. We've kept the server beyond top secret."

Alex took the phone from him and flicked through the first few files. "I'll need to look into this. Maybe give Joe a ring too." He tossed the phone back. "At least they've been polite enough to do the groundwork."

Tulip raised her hand to stop him as he turned for the door, "Alex, I'm afraid I've got to ask what you're going to do."

"I'm going to do what you should have been doing all along." Alex glared over his shoulder, freezing something inside her. "No children. Not then, not now, not ever."

The door slammed behind him.

"Derek, he can't just… Think of the implications. He'd be hunted by every intelligence agency in the world for the rest of his life."

"I'm not sure anyone's told him." Smithers rubbed his brow. "And I'm not sure he'd care if anyone did."

"Is he going to…" Tulip collapsed into her chair, "Joe's the director of the fucking CIA. He can't just stroll into Washington DC with a rifle and snipe him through a window."

"Why not?"

"Shit."

Alex Rider didn't leave the country the following day, but Alex Gardiner did. A registered US citizen, it was much easier for this alias to enter the destination country. The intel drop had been kind enough to identify a skyscraper with a suitable view down a long road into the office of one Joe Byrne, Director of the CIA, and suggested a time when he might just be available for a talk.

Mr Byrne had been served up on a silver platter, and looking down his scope, Alex knew that the man didn't even know it yet.

He pulled out a phone and dialled a number that had been burned into his mind many years ago.

"Hey Joe."

"Who is this?"

"You knew me as Alex, but I'm going by Orion in the field now. You've probably heard of me." He could see Joe stiffen in the chair. "Oh no, don't move Joe. Keep those feet planted on the floor and your hands above the desk, else I might get nervous. That wouldn't be good. My finger might slip."

"You're bluffing."

"Do you want me to shoot your secretary to prove it to you?" Alex had scoped the building thoroughly. "He's getting your coffee at the moment, but I did enjoy his t-shirt. Casual Fridays on a Thursday? Brave choices."

"What do you want?" Joe had frozen completely still in his chair. "Why are you here?"

"A little bird tells me that you've been a bad boy." Alex took a breath and slowly let it out. "I've heard all about Troy."

"Fuck." Joe leaned back in his chair, a look of resigned defeat covering his face.

"So you tell me Joe." Alex took another controlled breath. "Why am I here?"

"We had our reasons. You showed us it works."

"And I've made it clear that it isn't allowed." He let his finger slide towards the trigger. "How many missions has he been on?"

"Six. All successes."

"And how serious injuries has he suffered? How many missions caused permanent damage?"

The silence was answer enough.

"And then you sent him to Syria. To join the terrorists that you're supposed to be stopping. Because you think a white kid from Chicago with a limp, one eye and some serious psychological issues is going to blend in." Alex snorted, "Don't even try to tell me that was your best option."

"There was no one else, Alex. No one! What were we sup-"

Joe's last phone call was traced to an apartment block nearly a mile away from his office.. Pinned to the wall above the sniper rifle on the floor was an airport schedule with an arrival in Washington circled in red. Troy vanished the moment he stepped off the plane from Syria, with a bemused yet grateful smile.

Alex Gardiner never left the country, but Alex Friend did. Via Singapore, crossroad of the skies, one of the top five busiest international airports in the world.

Tulip was less than pleased. "Where the fuck is Rider?" She paced the operations room, glancing from screen to screen as her support team furiously searched through everything. "He's one man in the middle of a thousand cameras. He can't just vanish. He's supposed to be on our side."

Smithers entered the room, folder in hand, and glanced around. "You've heard then?"

"That Rider has assassinated the head of an allied intelligence service?"

"That he's defected." He offered the folder to her grimly.

Tulip froze, mid-step, before slowly turning to face him. "He did what?" The folder was snatched out of Smither's hands and the contents spread across the table. "Is that..?"

"That's Dr Three. Of SCORPIA. Meeting Orion in Washington, hours before he vanished off our radar."

"Why the hell is he with them?" She collapsed into her chair again, watching as dozens of technicians searched the world. "They killed his guardian, nearly killed him. Twice. I can't imagine what they offered him."

"You said it best. Every intelligence agency in the world is hunting him down." He looked at the snapshot of the footage again, "I guess he found his way out."

The sun beat down on the island compound of Seconda. Alex jumped out of the helicopter, looking around in interest. He could hear gunshots, regular and measured, and the light gleamed off the nearby greenhouses. SCORPIA invested in their operatives, and it showed.

Behind him, Dr Three stepped out of the aircraft also. "I'm glad you came Alex, it pleases me that you're willing to hear us out."

"Safe passage and a conversation." Alex shrugged, elegantly, "We both know that killing me would displease some of your clients."

"You are a graduate of Malagosto. By all accounts, one who has been successful in their career. We have been watching. Rome, Khartoum, Jerusalem. And our favourite, Berlin. That was a masterpiece." He reached out, almost like a fond father, and clapped Alex on the shoulder, "One of our best was there, and was in the process of explaining to the board his reasoning for abandoning what he viewed as an impossible mission when our client contacted us to congratulate us on your success."

"You're actually proud aren't you." Alex snorted, "I haven't worked for you. Ever."

"Alex." Dr Three released him, "You trained with us. Everyone knows it. Better still, you have done credit to our training. Of course we are proud. Even though you ended up on the wrong side of the fence, you have shown the world what a SCORPIA agent is capable of."

They reached a small meeting room in the centre of the campus, and looking around, Alex knew that this was going to be a serious talk. He didn't recognise all of the individuals around the table, but he knew enough to know that he had been privileged with an invitation to one of the few meetings at which every member of the executive board must attend.

"Alex Rider." The current chair, a nondescript gray man whose face Alex had never seen before, had a voice that sounded like someone was pouring ice down your neck. "Thank you for meeting with us."

"We understand you took care of Director Joe Byrne for us."

"Not for you." Alex sat down in the chair on the far side of the table, at the centre of what was essentially a semi-circle. "For Troy."

"The child agent." The Chairman's head tilted, "You have an odd proclivity. We weren't sure about Alan Blunt, but after Moscow we thought we'd found a trend."

"It was the rule." Alex leaned onto the table, letting his eyes meet each and every one of the board members'. "I would work with MI6. I would serve my country. And in return they would make every effort to ensure that no children were used by any intelligence agency, anywhere in the world. Ever."

"They failed." There wasn't a condemnation, just a statement of cold, harsh fact. "We do admire your goal however."

Alex's voice was dry. "I'm sure. Child agents have caused SCORPIA a great deal of problems in the past."

"No, only you. The rest were no issue at all." The chair handed a folder to his assistant, who promptly walked around the room to place it carefully in front of Alex. "We do, however, have a list. SCORPIA has discovered current child operatives from no less than twelve countries. Principally, they seem to be countries you have been loaned to in the past who believe that they will create the next Alex Rider. The next Orion, if you prefer."

Alex flipped through the folder quickly and efficiently, noting names, faces, places, times. The information seemed solid. "Why give me this information? Is there a price?"

"No price for this. We have shared goals here." The Chairman's eyes tightened slightly, the first sign of any emotion. "One of our erstwhile colleagues believed, as you do, that children had no place in this world. We would seek to support his legacy."

"Cossack." His chin tilted defiantly. "Yassen."

"Precisely." Dr Three spoke up for the first time, the arch of his fingers reaching elegantly up to his chin as he reclined in his chair. "And so we will provide this information for free, and make you an offer."

"An offer?"

The Chairman spoke up again. "We will adopt this unspoken rule as an official policy of the SCORPIA organisation. It will be enforced across all of our subsidiaries. We will refuse to work with those who utilise children, and take aggressive action against those who continue to do so after an initial grace period." His gaze settled on the MI6 agent. "In return, we will extend to you an honorary place on this board, support for your... crusade... and a role as an instructor at our training facilities worldwide."

"That seems to be rather generous."

"Allow me to be frank. The world is moving on, it is changing. Our role as consultants and technicians for the morally challenged of the world is moving slowly and inexorably towards extinction. We must change. SCORPIA must change." One of the other board members shifted, but didn't comment. "We are already taking steps to legitimise many of our more palatable dealings, and have begun to gather support from client countries to enjoy the protection of the law for our dealings with them."

"And you want me to be at the forefront of that? Your poster boy?"

"You just assassinated the Director of the CIA. Eventually some news report will pick up on this." The Chairman smiled slightly, "I do not think that telling the wider world you are working with us would be particularly sensible, though perhaps desirable in some circumstances. More important is that amongst those that know and respect you, your presence would affirm that we are serious about moving away from some of our past extreme positions."

"What if were to say no?"

"Then we would offer you a new identity, sufficient money to disappear, and a list of contacts that would continue to feed you any information we find on child operatives. Our unofficial policy would not become a rule, and you would lose the opportunity to truly change the world. SCORPIA can change without Orion, but we would much rather have Alex Rider by our side than lost to the shadows."

"I will need time to consider this." Alex shifted slightly in his chair. "I presume you have prepared a suite for me?"

"You may stay for three days. Seven if you agree to teach a masterclass on instinctive shooting tomorrow."

He stood up. "You understand that I will expect only the best?"

"Yes, we do." The chair stood as well, traversing the oddly quiet room to shake Alex's hand. "We would expect nothing less from someone as capable as Orion."

The sun rose on the island compound to the sound of gunshots. Meditation for the certifiably murderous, Smithers used to say. Orion had been shooting for nearly thirty minutes before his first student arrived. A woman, mid thirties, left-handed. Likely poor at close combat. A thinker, but a dangerous one. Likely poisons or counter-intelligence, possibly a shooter.

"Wait or compete. Your choice."

The student glanced at the scoreboard and winced before quietly settling in at the back of the room. No shooter then. Or just a poor shooter. He reloaded instinctively, and continued shooting down the range.

It was everything SCORPIA advertised to lure candidates. Automated targets, holographic projection, customised speed settings, hardware integrated into a software interface. It had taken some time, but he'd figured it out enough to put together a program of his own imagining. Every twenty targets, they came a little faster. It started slow, but it was beginning to get challenging.

The next three students to come in had taken to staring with something between shock and awe as their as-yet unknown instructor stepped up his pace. It was only when all five of his students had arrived hat he stopped, hitting the pause button.

"Fifty-seven minutes. One-hundred-and-twelve shots on-target. Zero off-target." He ran his eyes along the line. "Do any of you believe you can do better?"

The silence was deafening.

"You are not expected to reach this level as SCORPIA agents." His smile was cold, but sure. "However, a degree of competence is required to ensure your safety in the field. I am here to assess your competence and provide you with… guidance… on how to improve."

He indicated towards the range behind him. "Take your places. We have three hours."

The Chairman glanced over at Dr Three in the meeting room and paused the video recording. "Did you tell him to take on this persona?"

"All him." Dr Three blinked slowly. "It was certainly effective, if not what we expected from him."

"You have no concerns about his suitability?"

"If I had concerns, I would have left him in Washington."`

"I hope you're right." The Chairman tapped his pen against the page for a second. "It is, after all, your sponsorship supporting his appointment."

"Only if he agrees." Dr Three hesitated slightly. Only someone who knew him would know notice. "I'm surprised the board agreed to the conditions. It will set us directly against several of our competitors. Several of the Russian Bratva utilise children runners at almost every level of their organisation. The Chinese also."

"And yet you still suggested it." The Chairman lay the pen down carefully, "Perhaps you should explain why."

"We change or we die."

"Then why are you confused that the board voted in favour?" He pulled a folder of paperwork out of a drawer and passed over a single sheet. "It was even unanimous. SCORPIA changes. "

"With Alex Rider as part of it?"

"He still has two days to dec-"

There was a knock at the door.

"Dr Three. Chairman." Alex stood easily in front of them, relaxed, confident, assured. "I'm going to need that list."