A.N: Well hello there! You're not mad are you? Sorry for the long wait. I intended to have this chapter out a month earlier but school kind of killed any goals I had set. So, to make up for that, this chapter is twice as long as my other ones. Ok fine, the length wasn't to make up for the wait. I wrote my normal length and realized I got no where so I kept writing. School's out so updates might be quicker. I said might.

Anyway, the previous chapters have been edited and I added a timeline-ish thing to help understand the pace of the story (and I was getting a bit confused too...).

Note: Parts of this chapter have been taken from Crocodile Tears by Anthony Horowitz. These portions have been separated by periods and are italicized. I do not claim these as my own, they are there to help the readers of this FANFICTION understand what I am referring to. All rights go to Anthony Horowitz. Please don't sue me, I'm broke.

Day 3, 0200 GMT, Brecon Beacons

Once again, Alex lied in his cot staring up at the ceiling. Sleep always seemed to elude him no matter how tired he was. He wasn't an insomniac but he was close. Sleep always caught up to him a few hours before dawn, when he was supposed to be up. Right now, his mind was contemplating the enigma that was his father.

The night he realized his father was alive, they had a conversation where he told John what his missions were but the truth was, he downplayed the ordeal, a lot. Not only that, he also didn't tell John about his time with the Pleasures of the missions after that. The truth was, even though Alex trusted his dad, he didn't know him like a normal teenager would know his dad. He didn't know how he would react. Would he laugh at him for not being able to deal with it properly? Would he be disappointed in him for giving in to the blackmail? Instead, he opted to introducing the news to him slowly.

Next was the issue of his unit. They had started acting a little different around him. It wasn't like the other soldier who preferred to ignore him in general. They paid attention to him, more so than usual. He noticed their stares and how they would make sure they knew where he was. It was kind of like they knew something about him - like they were suspicious of him. But why? They couldn't know about his past, could they?

And with that thought, he fell into a restless sleep leaving him four hours of sleep before he would be rudely awoken by the shuffling of his already dresses unit-mates.

Day 3, 0700 GMT, Mazel Corporations Headquarters, London

Anatoli Malikov leaned back in his leather chair and smiled. He took a sip of his coffee while reading the headlines of the London Times newspaper he held in his other hand.

Russian Tycoon Hosts Auction for Orphaned Children of London

By Raquel Martins

Russian billionaire and owner of Mazel Corps, Anatoli Malikov has announced his decision to become more involved in the lives of needy children. At Mazel press release, Malikov said, "I believe it is important to recognize that the future of Britain rests in the hands of our children. Children who may not be living in suitable conditions and may be orphaned. We must do something about this which is why my business partners and I have decided to allot a portion of our sizable profits towards donating money to the Childrens Home for the Needy. But, in addition to that, I will be hosting a party come Auction at my residence where all of the proceeds will go to the Childrens Home." Malikov declined to answer questions but it is rumored to be that many social elites, government officials, and business moguls have been invited to the function. Is there a specific reason for this sudden interest in the lives of the needy? It is said that Anatoli Malikov is not a citizen of Britain, has applied for citizenship and been denied numerous times. One of the guests at the function is said to be Edwin Mosely, a known proponent of the recently proposed and passed immigration and naturalization bill (coincidentally proposed my Mosely) of the House of Lords. Could this be a ploy for Malikov to become a citizen of Britain? Is the parliament really this corrupt?

The plan of the rather corrupt businessman was coming together quite nicely except for the small part about him not being a British citizen - that was not appreciated. He picked up his desk phone and dialed his friend.

"Da, this is Markov," The voice on the other end stated.

"Markov, you have read the newspaper, I presume?" Anatoli asked.

"Da," Came the affirmative response.

"I want the author of the article about me, one Raquel Martins to be given a severe warning about what she reports about. Can you do that?" Anatoli commanded rather than asked.

"Da," Said the man once again.

"Great, spasibo," He thanked the man of four words and disconnected the call. Ms. Martins must learn to mind her own business.

Day 3, 1100 GMT, Royal and General Bank

Mrs. Jones looked at the newspaper in her hands in shock. How had this Raquel Martins had managed to come up with a theory that had sent MI5 scrambling was beyond her. It also showed the sheer lack of competence of the entire department run by Colin Whittle was a waste of valuable resources.

She pressed the button on her intercom and spoke to her secretary, "Send in Ms. Martins please."

A few seconds later, the door to her office opened and in walked in a rather tall women. Her brown hair fell slightly below her shoulders and contrasted with her blonde eyebrows suggesting she dyed her hair.

"Ms. Martins, please, take a seat," Mrs. Jones said, gesturing to the fancy chair in front of her desk. Raquel stiffly to the chair and took a seat at the very edge. Her nervousness was clear to Mrs. Jones which made her wonder if Ms. Martins was guilty of something other than what she was called here for.

"Do you know why you are here Ms. Martins," Mrs. Jones asked pleasantly while unwrapping a peppermint.

"I assume is has something to do with my article?" The unsure woman asked biting her lip.

"Yes. But before we go any further, I must require you to sign the Official Secrets Act." Mrs. Jones stated and pushed over the form.

The reporter looked at the form and signed it without any complaint. Mrs. Jones found this a little odd but brushed it off as Ms. Martins looked at her expectantly.

"Ok, as you might have noticed, this is not just a bank. It is also the headquarters to MISO, the Special Operations division of the British Government." Mrs. Jones carefully watched the reaction of the reporter as it went from shock to understanding and finally settling on fear.

She continued, "Your article, while there is nothing wrong with what you wrote, has been enlightening to both MI6 and MI5."

"I'm Tulip Jones, the Head of Military Intelligence sector 6," Mrs. Jones just said out of the blue. She knew her introduction was a little choppy but something wasn't right.

"Ms. Martins, do you have something you would like to share?" Mrs. Jones asked scrutinizing the woman. Suddenly the woman started shaking and babbling incoherently.

"Th-This m-morning after I w-went to th-the London Times Of-Offices b-before I c-could walk in, th-there was this man." She stopped momentarily and sniffled rather loudly. Mrs. Jones offered her a tissue from the box she had on her desk for situations like this. Instead of taking a few tissues, the distraught woman took the whole box. The woman started taking a few deep breaths and it seemed like she was practicing lamaze breathing.

She calmed down and continued, "He grabbed me by my upper arm and pulled me into his car. This was after I got your message to meet you so I was only stopping by the office cafe to get a latte. Then, he pulled out his gun and threatened my not to give Anatoli Malikov bad press. Then he knocked me out, i assume because i don't remember what happened, then he dropped me off a few blocks from here."

She looked at Mrs. Jones expectantly as if this was her fault. Mrs. Jones took this as her cur to speak.

"Ms. Martins, I am deeply sorry for your horrific ordeal. The reason I called you here today was because of your security. Mr. Malikov is the type of person who would consider articles such as the one you wrote a threat. We would like to offer you a deal," She paused, catching her breath.

"We will provide you with protection in exchange for your help in investigating into the matters of Anatoli Malikov." There was a moment of dead silence.

"Does that mean I will be employed by you?" Ms. Martins asked.

"Yes and No. We will take you on as a consultant on our case meaning if you are able to provide us with sufficient information, we will pay you accordingly." Mrs. Jones replied.

"Well, when are you going to send over my protection, like we agreed?" She asked cheekily, agreeing to the terms.

"Lovely," And for once, Mrs. Jones smiled. There was still hope in this world after all.

Day 3, 0630 GMT, Brecon Beacons

Alex walked into the mess hall early and found that the chefs were less grumpier. He got his food and took a seat near the door so he could leave quickly. There weren't many soldiers here yet even though breakfast ended in a half-an-hour, the soldiers tended to arrive ten minutes before breakfast ended and scarfed down their food. Just as he was about to start eating, he felt a presence standing behind him.

Alex turned around and found himself face to face with Bat.

"Hey, Cub," Bat said to him. "Mind if I sit here next to you?"

"Not at all, go ahead." Alex replied cautiously. Bat was usually one of the last soldiers to arrive but not today apparently. It looks like the only reason he was here early today was because of him.

"So, you know that I worked for MI6, right?" Bat asked with a mouthful of food.

"Yeah ... you kinda announced it to everyone yesterday ..." Cub replied looking wary. It was clear. Bat knew him from somewhere. He knew what he did and he knew that Cub lied about the torture.

Suddenly Bat stopped and locked eyes with him. He mouthed two words never breaking eye contact - "I know."

Abruptly, the older soldier got up and walked away leaving the underage spy confused and a little disoriented. What just happened?

A few moments later, Alex got up, dumped his clean tray, and walked out of the mess hall. He still had close to twenty minutes before he needed to be at Covert Ops Training. Making a split second decision, he turned and took off at a sprint towards the obstacle course. It was perfect to relieve stress and maybe a little bit of frustration.

Arriving at the starting line, he started the timer on his watch and went through the motions of the course.

Weave

Dive

Drop and roll

Sprint, grab and brace for impact

Crawl

He felt so at ease doing the course it was unnatural. Yes, it was wearing him out and making him work quite a bit but he didn't mind it. He finished the course and checked his time.

11:45

It was a little better than last time but not too much. That was to be expected though because he was still recovering from his last mission. He walked around to prevent his muscled from seizing up. He felt so free. A mind clear of all thoughts was a mind at peace. For once, Alex was at peace and he deserved it.

He shook his hair to get all the sweat out and walked at a slow pace to the lake where class was supposed to be. It was a little awkward walking though because everyone at Brecon seemed to be in a perpetual state of urgency. It was almost like walking leisurely was banned unofficially.

He arrived with a few minutes to spare only to find that everyone was already there. 'Looks like they want to impress dad', Alex thought. He stood near his unit and waited for John to arrive.

"Scared Cub?" Eagle leaned down and whispered into his ear. He tensed as his mind flashed back to the last time Eagle said this to him. It was when his life was basically blown open and he found out that his dad was alive. Would something dramatic happen this time?

"Soldiers! Line up!" Came a shout from his Dad who was jogging towards them smiling.

They immediately lined up with their units and awaited further instructions.

"Ok men, do you see that bar hanging across the lake?" John said pointing towards something that looked a lot like playground monkey bars. One end was planted firmly in the ground and the other end stretched out into the middle of the lake. The bars kids would normally swing across were spaced out quite a bit.

"Today, we are going to test your endurance and upper body strength. When I say go, you need to run over to the bar, climb up, and hang on for as long as you can. Do you understand?" He asked the group after his long spiel.

"Yes Sir," The response was as diligent as always.

"Please Sir, what's the point to this exercise?" One particularly brave soldier asked. Judging from the direction the voice came from, it was someone from N unit.

"Assuming you have listened to my last explanation, you want to know the hidden purpose. Am I right?" John asked. There was always a hidden purpose to things and because John trained at Scorpia, he had learned his lesson the hard way. His question was met with nods from the soldiers and spy.

"This is a technique used by many terrorist organization for torture. They will leave you hanging from a bar over a pit of a deadly animal or off of a cliff and promise to let you off if you let loose some government secrets." John looked more serious than anyone had ever seen him so far.

"It was used in the past, it was used on me, and it will be used again in the future." The last statement was met with very intense scrutinizing by Alex and solemn expressions from the soldiers.

"Ok, let's get started then."

.

.

.

"GO!" Came the call, and off they went.

Almost in unison all os then jumped into the water without even bothering to remove their clothes. It would waste time and it would defeat the purpose to keep this at real as possible. It was a far swim to the monkey bars and Alex, even though he was a strong swimmer, was the last to arrive. He started climbing the bars as fast as he could realizing that he had to make up for lost time. He had no other choice.

The soldiers were already hanging off the bar sending small smirks at Cub. At this moment, they no longer feared the wrath of John if anything happened to his son. At this moment, they were equals.

Cub drew in steady breaths to try to keep his heart rate even as he got ready to let the support from his feet go.

3 (Would he flash back?)

.

2 (Could his body handle this?)

.

1 (There was only one way to find out...)

He let go.

The first minute wasn't that bad, the only problem was keeping his mind occupied. Otherwise, he would end up focusing on the strain on his arms and let go.

The other soldiers seemed to have no problem at all once they reached the two minute mark but they were a lot more fit then Alex was. Alex started to breathe a little harder and his head drooped and rested on his collarbone. He drew in a deep breath.

They passed the three minute mark. By now his arms were burning and it was all he could focus on. The burn from his muscle rad from his wrist to his shoulders putting more stress on his half healed wounds. What was keeping his from hanging on? What was the consequence? By now, John realized he never told them was the repercussions were for letting go.

"Listen up!" John's voice cut through the haze in Cubs mind, giving his something to focus on. "Now the unit that has the first person to let go will be on Toilet duty and Kitchen Duty for the next three months. And, they will be the ones to do double the endurance workouts for the next training session and onwards. The unit that has the last person hanging, will be rewarded with REAL food from a REAL restaurant as well as a day off from camp."

The competition was going to be very high.

Alex felt the tension between all the men as well as the pressure. No one wanted to be the one to let his unit down, but they all wanted to let go. By now, four minutes had passed. The burn in their arms was more prevalent. Their vision went a bit blurry as the blood rushed behind their eyes and into their head. They had to win but there could only be one winner. Who would it be?

Alex's mind wandered. They had reached the five minute mark as John had cheerfully pointed out to them. How long could they stay up here?

. . .

"The longest anyone has ever remained where you are is eighteen minutes," McCain said. He spoke slowly and evenly. He didn't have to raise his voice to make himself heard. "The man in question had lost his sanity before the end. He was giggling as he fell.

. . .

Alex started shaking. It wore him out faster but he couldn't help it. These were the flashbacks that haunted him the worst. Not because he suffered the most from them, but because he was so naïve then; he was just a little boy. He didn't have all the skills he had acquired now. It scared him that he was so innocent then and survived. What if he died — all it would take was a small mistake on his part.

Ok, so he had eighteen minutes to hang on. But how long had he hung on last time? It seemed like an eternity ago but his hazy brain was still able to recall useless memories.

. . .

Seven minutes. Maybe eight minutes. Alex wasn't sure why he was hanging on anymore. The sooner he dropped the sooner it would all be over.

. . .

He was at six minutes. He had a minute left before he would beat his old record — not that it mattered. He was already too tired. He lifted up his head and let it fall back.

The sun was out, which was a rare occurrence in the Brecons, and it warmed his face. He was soaking in sweat and water from the lake below. The humidity outside didn't help either. He gazed up at the endless blue skies. For a moment he felt like he was hanging upside down with the skies being the lake. It was a wondrous feeling but it only lasted for a few seconds before he was jerked back to reality with the sound of splashing water. Someone had let go and it wasn't him.

He lifted up his head and tried to find the source of the splash. It was Jackel of N-Unit. It wasn't Alex. He wasn't going to get harassed by an enraged Eagle. At this point, the rest of N unit: Raccoon, Minx, and Leopard, all let go as well to join their team mate. There really was no pin for them to stay. They had already lost.

But, Alex still had to hang on. He would let go as soon as someone from K Unit let go. He didn't want to get belittled by the unit. At this point, his mind was in overdrive. He kept forgetting where he was and the point of what he was doing. Why was he still hanging on?

. . .

The crocodile that had just emerged was almost twice his own size, from the ugly snout to the writhing tip of its tail. Its great mouth was open, with two lines of ferocious white teeth waiting to snap shut on his arm or leg. That was how they operated, of course, clamping down on their victim and then dragging them back into the water. And only when the bones were loose and the flesh had begun to decompose would they begin their feast. But worst of all were the eyes, midnight black, snake-like, and swollen on the side of its head, surely too small for its body and filled with hatred. They really were the eyes of death. Alex had heard it said that crocodiles wept as they attacked their prey, but there would be no pity in those eyes. They were part of a machine that existed only to kill.

. . .

Oh, right. It was because of the crocodiles that were waiting to eat him in the lake below.

Wait ... What?

Crocodiles?

He was hanging over the lake at Brecon Beacons not River Simba somewhere in Africa. Where did that thought come from? Was he losing his mind like McCain said he would? No that wasn't possible. He knew exactly where he was and why.

His name was Alex Rider, codenamed Cub. He was at Brecon Beacons because he had no where to go ... until now. Now, he had his Dad who had somehow came back to life. Weird.

"Eight minutes!" He heard his dad shout from the bank of the lake. How had he missed the seven minute mark? The sweat poured down from his back like rain. All of a sudden, the pain in his arms hit him like a lorry. While he was distressing about his state of mind, he had stopped focusing on the task at hand.

There was another splash. Alex didn't even try to find out who it was. He just listened until he heard N unit shout, "Lion, nice of you to join us mate!"

L unit was out. It was just K Unit and D Unit. Cub against Bat. Spy vs Spy.

It had been nine minutes. His arms felt detached from the rest of his body. he had beat his old record but it came at a cost. His arms were getting slippery from all of the sweat. Even if he wanted to he couldn't hold on for too long.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he lost his grip but was able to dig his fingertips into the metal bar and hold on long enough to hear a splash. It wasn't him. It was Monkey from D Unit. The rest of D Unit let go. They had lost. K Unit were the victors. K Unit let go soon after.

The first thing Cub felt when he let go was relief. Then the jarring impact of his body into the ice cold water of the lake brought him back to reality. There were no crocodiles ... were there?

No. He needed to stop thinking like this. It would get him no where. He somehow found the strength to move his arms and swan to the bank of the river where the other soldiers helped pull K Unit in. Alex felt arms grab his shoulders and pull him onto the grass. He did it. He made it.

He smiled and laid down on his back facing the sky. The world felt upside down and confusing but he knew that was how it was supposed to be. Closing his eyes, he succumbed to the blackness that creeped in. Alex passed out on the banks of the River still smiling.

Unknown to him, the stitches on his back had ripped during the exercise. His shirt was soaked in blood which John had seen when he pulled him in. The loss of blood had caused him to go light headed and faint. But he would be fine - the consequences of fainting, however, would not be.

A.N: If you're confused, please review or PM me. I'm happy to answer any questions or concerns.