DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ALEX RIDER

Chapter 5

"People aren't supposed to look back. I'm certainly not going to do it anymore."

Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

Life at the Navy SEAL base never had a dull moment. For one thing, the soldiers were a lot more comfortable with their Sergeant than SAS soldiers were, though Alex didn't know if he was qualified to make that judgement. He hadn't exactly spent that long observing the typical SAS lifestyle since he was busy trying to ward of K-Unit's attempts to kick him out.

Alex quickly learned how Theta Unit functioned. Jared Harrison was the leader. Although he still acted quite cold towards Alex, Harrison cared for his unit like a momma bear would for her cubs. He wasn't much older than the other three members of Theta Unit, but that didn't seem to deter him. He clashed with the Upsilon Unit members almost daily, ranging from hidden glares to angry spats, which were kept quiet before the Sergeant could punish them.

Alex tried to develop a somewhat civil friendship with the soldier, but Harrison insisted on staying a distance away from Alex. He tried not to take it personally. Harrison seemed like the kind of guy that liked his given authority and didn't want anyone coming along and taking it from him (AKA Matthew Dawson, SAS, who served five years—four extra years longer than Harrison himself).

Joe Myers was somewhat of a comic relief, though not in a good way. He liked to crack jokes that weren't really funny to anyone who passed by, but they were apparently outrageously hilarious to everyone else in Theta Unit. When the other four weren't looking, Alex had caught the other units openly laughing at them.

Alex couldn't figure out what Myers specialized in or even remotely what area he excelled in. With the mission slowly creeping up on them, Alex wanted to make sure he had his unit all figured out before randomly throwing his life into the hands of these rookies. For now, it seemed like Myers was just mediocre at everything, though he had a strange fascination with languages and enjoyed sniping cardboard cutouts of men with guns.

Andrew Evans, the third member of Theta Unit, was an interesting person. Without the aide of Myers, he would get quiet fast and stay that way until the other came back with a wide grin plastered to his monkey-like face. He was incredibly determined, Alex noted the first day during physical training. Evans' face was bright red as the drill Sergeant pushed the soldiers harder than normal, but he kept going without complaint. He had an affinity for hand-to-hand combat, and during spars, he took each hit without a bat of an eye.

The scar the Alex had seen on the first day of his arrival continued to spark his curiosity, though Alex kept his mouth shut about it. He had his suspicions, but he didn't exactly want to ask about Evans' personal history.

The boy wasn't friendly either, though he did manage a smile or two. Alex didn't blame him. It looked like they both had trust issues.

The last member, Kyle Lloyd, didn't like to talk unless it was needed. He was the rational brain of Theta Unit. He kept them on time to every lesson or training exercise. He ended arguments as quickly as they had been started. He was quick, blunt, and sharp. Alex liked him a lot despite his cold exterior.

He wasn't childhood friends with Evans and Myers like Alex had thought. In fact, he was quite the enigma about his past. Alex didn't care about that as long as he wasn't a traitor.

Lloyd was a complete genius when it came to technology. His job at the base—besides training on the range and running through obstacle courses—included something in military intelligence. Classified, of course. Myers pestered Lloyd daily about his work, but the man only scowled and shook his head in response.

Alex was the outsider. He tried to fit in with the others—after all, trust had to go both ways—but it was a struggle. He wasn't sure if it was because he had been out of the game for so long or if Americans were naturally defensive.

Alex's first full day made him rethink his whole decision many years ago about pretending to be killed, then living his dream life somewhere secluded. Theta Unit, being one of the newer Navy SEAL units, was friends with the other newer recruits. Alex had to constantly bite his tongue in case his temper got the better of him, and he decided to shout at their eagerness to die in a firestorm of bullets.

It seemed that Harrison wasn't the only soldier with a thirst to prove his superiority. Alex spent his first breakfast listening to the soldiers recount their basic training which went something along the lines of:

"Have you ever been to the Rockies just for training? We had to hike up one of the mountains. Gosh, it was freezing. And then we had to..." blah blah blah. Alex didn't listen after another guy began a long tirade of accomplishments.

That was where the game began. Alex didn't know if it was really an established game per se, but it was happening too frequently for him to ignore. During meals, random soldiers would bound to his table and strike up a conversation. Well, a one-sided conversation. It was annoying. Alex didn't want to spend his meals trying to block out a unit of soldiers' tales about their training. He spent his time staring mournfully at the more experienced units who mostly kept to themselves and talked about trivial things like guns.

After that, the challenges starting up. First it was the Upsilon Unit challenging him to see how many bullseyes he could get with a round of bullets, then it was challenging him to break the record time on the obstacle course.

Alex was absolutely fed up with it. All he wanted to do was take down the I.A. and go back to his life.

It was quiet on base, save for a few piercing snores. The sun was still hidden somewhere below the horizon, and the birds were (thankfully) sleeping.

Alex wasn't going to pretend that it wasn't absolutely freezing outside. Even though he was swaddled in a black SAS hoodie and the sweatpants that the Navy SEALs did morning PT in, Alex was shivering, his breaths making small, nearly invisible clouds in the air before him. He balanced his laptop on his lap, staring at the screen.

He did this most mornings before anyone else was awake. It wasn't exactly hard for him to hack into MI6 (Alex suspected that Smithers was the one to give him access; Alex was good, but not that good). He wanted to keep tabs on the air strikes against the I.A. From what Alex could tell, the strikes were spotty at best. The missions to infiltrate their bases weren't going well either. Russia's troops had unexpectedly been ambushed. Twenty soldiers—all dead.

Alex watched wearily as a blinking dot moved slowly somewhere along the south of Iran. He shook his head, exiting the screen and back onto the mission files. He wouldn't learn anything by watching the strikes.

Maneuvering the cursor back onto the file that read "A.R." which he could only assume was him, Alex let out a breath. He opened the file, reading the contents once more. There was nothing new it in—just the same basic information he had memorized on the plane.

He frowned, exiting out of that too. Alex itched to be able to get his hands on the other countries' files. He wanted to know what was going on in the rest of the world, and he only had a limited amount of access.

The first bird began to titter in the trees, followed by another, then another. Alex gritted his teeth as he refreshed the page again and again, hoping for another update to come in.

He wasn't disappointed.

After the seventh refresh, a new file appeared labeled "I.A. Re:". Alex could only assume that it was follow-up message sent to either the members of MI6 or to the rest of the intelligence agencies.

He eagerly clicked on it, coming face to face with a list of letters. Upon closer inspection, Alex realized it was the names of agencies. CIA, MI5, DGSI etc. Scrolling down, he began to attempt to decipher the obviously coded message.

Alex barely held back the groan that seemed to originate from years of pent up frustration of missing math class for missions. It, of course, wasn't that bad. He wasn't the type to get hopelessly lost in class, even if he had missed two weeks of material. It just brought back bad memories.

He glared at the row of numbers that seemed—to the untrained eye—meaningless, but to his eyes, it was plainly a matrix encoded message. Alex worked quickly, glancing over his shoulder once or twice to make sure no one was watching.

Gritting his teeth, Alex stared down at the message he had just decoded, his blood running cold.

IA RECRUITING CHILDREN.

There was nothing more, and Alex let a growl of frustration rumble through him.

"What do you think you're doing, Dawson?"

Too late Alex realized that the door behind him had opened and a groggy Harrison was peering at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes. Alex turned so that Harrison couldn't see the numbers on his screen (not that that mattered—Harrison couldn't decode the page with one look) and closed the top with one hand.

"I'm emailing my family," Alex put on an exasperated look, even though he was mentally scrambling. He was losing his touch. "Not that it's any of your business."

Harrison's eyes sharpened, and he stood taller, trying to appear larger than he actually was. Alex applauded his effort mentally.

"Don't you have a phone?" he asked, stepping out almost threateningly.

Alex glared, "Don't you know the prices of international calls?"

Harrison apparently couldn't find any fault with that. He stepped back into the hut, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm watching you," he warned.

The door banged shut, startling the nearby birds into silence.

Alex let out a long breath, standing to follow the unit leader in.

IA RECRUITING CHILDREN.

Two more weeks, he told himself, opening the laptop again to delete any trace he had ever been in the MI6 system. He would end it in two more weeks.

Alex glanced doubtfully at Theta Unit, who were all awake now and messing around, throwing dirty laundry at each other and whatever their morning routine was. He shook his head, wondering if there was even the slightest chance of them working together as a real unit.

As he entered the room and a stray sock slapped the door behind him, Alex sighed, getting his answer.

IA RECRUITING CHILDREN.

A/N: Um... HI. I'm still alive! I honestly have no good excuse for this really long wait, and I hope that you guys didn't give up on me. AHH I FEEL SO BAD. I WILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU. On another note, this chapter wasn't great, and I think my writing has changed to "English literature" style. Probably because I've been reading a ton, but oh well. Also, I recently created a Wattpad account. I don't know why I didn't do it sooner. There are some really good books out there. I'm thinking about posting TCC on there or maybe AWOL (once I edit it). I'm also working up to post an original novel there... Once I write it... and edit it. Awkward.

ANYWAY, PLEASE FORGIVE ME. YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING. I LOVE YOU.

Special thanks to: nrynmrth,Whisperponyx, JadedKrystal, Peek-a-bloody-boo, Guest (1), Guest (2), Eulalia (guest), I Advise Advice (guest), M-chanchen, MYDAY123, FA (guest), and Batfan3 ! You guys keep me going!

Oh, and before I forget. To I Advise Advice (guest): I took in consideration what you said and did a little research, and I don't think there is a difference between using "defense" and "defence". I believe it's only a dialectal difference. "Defense" is the preferred spelling in America. Correct me if I'm wrong:)

OKAY HUGS AND KISSES. I'm gonna work on the next chapter before someone sends assassins to my house xD

-Alice x