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Classified

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"That way," Snake hissed. Probably what Snake did best. Hissing. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. When he'd still been in the army, after a battle, Snake would line them up and hiss at them about being careful and injuries. He would then proceed to turn off "mother hen" mode, and the night proceeded with cards or something.

Not anymore, he thought to himself. I'm in '6 now. For a single, fleeting second, he wished he was back in BB, listening to a drill sergeant yell at him for not running fast enough. He shook himself. There were reasons he'd left that life in the past.

Eagle rolled his eyes. "Snake, mate, you realize we don't have to be sneaky about this? I mean, come on, chances are that Cub is watching us anyway." Wolf snorted, and Ben himself bit back a laugh and tried not to stare at the shadows. Of course, it wasn't working, but he liked to pretend he still preserved some self-control.

Snake didn't budge. He acted as if the entire bank was a war zone, though if he'd asked Ben, he would know that the lasers, extra elevator buttons, stray planks, tinted windows, that one refrigerator in the lounge, chandeliers, and all of that other stuff weren't all that dangerous to someone who knew the place well... So maybe he was just lying to himself. If triggered, the bathrooms could lead to the interrogation chambers. The chandeliers were outfitted with sharp knives. The extra elevator buttons would sound alarms, the lasers were very special lasers, and of course, the fridge contained a hidden compartment that contained kind-of illegal chemicals. But MI6 was practically law, so it didn't matter.

He tried hard not to guffaw as he followed them to, apparently, Alex's office. On the door hung a golden plaque, reading Ian Rider. It hadn't been changed. By the time he had gotten over there, the SAS soldiers had reduced to squabbling kids over either picking the lock or asking Mrs. Jones for a spare key.

"-let us, I bet. We have a right to know; Jones isn't that bad, surely."

"No, but if she doesn't-"

"Yeah, if we pick the lock, then no one will have-"

"How are we going to lock it again then, idiot?" Silence. He had to admit, Lynx had a point. They would have to re-lock the door without a key. He shook his head and stepped forwards.

"How about we try-" He turned the doorknob, and the door swung open. "-this first and actually make sure it's locked before we argue about picking it or asking Mrs. Jones." Another embarrassed silence.

"Yeah, let's try this next time." The room wasn't what he'd been expecting at all. It was quite small, covered in dust, and shrouded in dark shadow. They crept in. The way everything was placed... He felt as if he moved anything, touched anything, it would crumble into a thousand pieces. It just looked so old, most of the things unused for what he suspected was quite a while.

"Woah," Eagle breathed. He trailed a finger on the desk, leaving a clean streak. "Look at this." He showed them his finger, covered in a layer of grey. Snake couldn't contain his curiosity, diving for the cabinets. He pulled out stacks of files, piles of papers dated in the 1900's, and finally, the boon, a small, leather-bound notebook. Wolf, standing next to him frowned. Lynx was at the desk, looking at the mahogany. He picked up a picture and smiled, something he'd never seen on the man before. Ben pressed his lips together. The snooping made him feel uneasy, squeamish. Nonetheless, he did nothing to stop the men.

"Snake go first," Eagle commented. The man in question nodded. He flipped to a random page, his eyes growing wider with every passing second.

"What," Wolf barked, sounding like he was commanding someone and not asking a question.

Snake read it out loud. "-Alexander. A good name. My brother chose well, and when Helen called me in the middle of the night, I almost cheered with excitement. I didn't, though I did laugh, almost in disbelief. I guess I am an uncle to little Alex now. Uncle. I hope that won't change for a very long time, even with the dangers I face...," Snake trailed off here. He snapped the book shut, a guilty look suddenly present on his face. Slowly, Ben could feel himself connecting dots he didn't want to. Alex trusts you, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Almost guiltily, he put the puzzle pieces together. If Ian Rider, who had been the second best in MI6 until fourteen years ago, when John Rider was killed, who then was killed almost two years ago, was Alex's uncle... John Rider, Ian's brother, would have been the father of Alex.

Alex Rider. His real name was Alex Rider.

₪ ø lll ·o.

Everyone squirmed uncomfortably in the backseat of whoever's car they were sitting in. He'd lost track of who had which car, with the added revelation that Alex was a Rider. The Rider family was practically worshiped in the headquarters of MI6. John Rider was a legend. Ian Rider just added to it. Both had been the best agents, and supposedly, they had taken down SCORPIA, one of the largest and dangerous terrorist organizations. A year ago, he'd been shown the full horrors of the group. All those natural occurrences, the stuff he'd never really noticed... It was all stimulated. Staged. Timed perfectly. Important people were killed, and no one suspected a thing.

The world was a messed-up place, he mused. Sometimes, he felt he was at the core of it. Lives depended on his work. He was just another guy, another person, but he was the one to bear battle scars and army clothes.

The city passed in patches of color, the red of bricks jutting out in the muted landscape. In the front of the car, there was a heated argument going on, but he paid no heed to it. It was no concern of his. Not anymore, anyway. Maybe... his brain suggested. He let out a soft breath. Well, maybe. Once upon a time. Once, he would have listened. He would have chosen a side, would have been involved. He had left the army life in days behind, though. The unit had let him leave with bitter eyes, with foul accusations sitting on their lips. Their brotherhood was no more. All gone now.

"We're here!" someone announced, and everyone groaned as they crawled out of the car. He was pretty sure it had been Eagle arguing. No wonder they wanted to get rip-roaringly drunk.

"Drink time!" Eagle cried. He let his lips curl upwards in a small, small smile. Eagle had his childish moments. People judged him by his demeanor. They thought he was a hyper, overactive child, but the guy was pretty serious most of the time. Eagle just liked having fun, even though his definition and Eagle's definition of fun were very, very different. He'd learnt that a long time ago.

"More like drunk time," he heard Lynx mutter, scowling. He hid his grin as Eagle whipped around at the man's words.

"What?"

"Did you hear something? I didn't." Lynx chuckled at the confused look on Eagle's face. Wolf was in his grouchy state, stalking past them towards the dimly lit pub.

It was a small place, light spilling out of grimy, unwashed windows. Despite the sad state, the place was filled with people, laughing and dancing. He raised an eyebrow. They had gone through a ton of arguing to get here for a decent conversation? There was nothing to lose.

"Ben, you coming?" Snake asked, slowing down. He caught up to him, nodding, trying to find his voice.

"Yeah," he said, fixing his eyes on the doorway. A bell jingled as they walked in. Somehow, Eagle had managed to get himself a mug of beer and had joined the party as he walked in. Wolf and Lynx, he noticed, were already seated at a small table.

"Over there," he said, pointing to the table. Snake made a grunt of acknowledgment, pushing through the mass of pulsing bodies. Lively music played, but he resisted the urge to move with the crowd. It was good letting the beat pound and wash over you, letting you lose yourself in the music, but they had come here to talk. He slid into a chair.

"Where's Eagle?" Lynx hollered over the din. He waved his hand in the direction of the crowd.

"Over there," he yelled back. Wolf groaned and got up, no doubt looking for Eagle. The two men returned, though both were drenched in... what- sweat? Beer? Water?

"So," Wolf started. "I have his file." His. No question about who that was. Wolf pulled out a small manilla folder from the inside of his jacket. It wasn't very thick for starters-that was for sure. Ben tapped his fingers on the wood, his breath baited.

At the top of the first page, AGENT: ALEX RIDER had been stamped in clear, bold letters. Underneath, there were the basics of all files. Name. Age. Status. Missions. Success rate. Things like that.

"Spread it out," Snake suggested. "Split up the folder." Wolf nodded, passing papers. He received the first two pages. There wasn't much on it.

AGENT: ALEX RIDER

NAME: Alexander John Rider.

AGE: Classified.

STATUS: Alive.

MISSION COUNT: Classified.

SUCCESS RATE: 100%

GUARDIAN(S) [IF ANY]: None.

POSITION: Top.

OTHER:

LANGUAGES: English, Spanish, French, some Chinese, some Japanese.

INFORMATION:

Agent has been on [several] successful missions. Mission content is classified to the public file. No ID will be provided. Agent has had brief touchings with SAS training in the past. (See Kilo-Unit.) The agent has had some connections to SCORPIA in the past. (See SCORPIA.) No more information on past injuries and missions will be provided.

He finished reading, leaning back in his chair. His brain was going in overload. Several missions, all classified. All with a 100 percent success rate. No parents, no guardians. Top agent. Dealings with SCORPIA. No age. Classified injuries.

He wanted nothing more but to slam his hands down over and over. Shaking his head, he slid the papers back in and got up, losing himself in the music, trying to forget it. Forget it all.

But even as he danced, the enigma of a Rider hung heavy in the air.

Evening, you guys. It's November 16-perfect time to spill the beans.

I might not be updating until late December, or January, even. I am telling this to all of my readers, in all fandoms. Right now, all writing is focused on NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. I am desperate to finish a winner. It is getting harder and harder to find precious time between homework, projects, and things at home; I cannot afford to lose more time writing on FanFiction. I apologize profusely for this, but there is nothing else I can and will do.

Reviewing and PMing will still be open, and I will be responding on the forums I am part of (check my profile page) but there will be no more updating until I finish my novel[lla.] Thank you, guys, and please review and cheer me on. You have no idea how hard this is for me.

Achieving Elysium