Becoming Agent Rider

Staged Dangers

"See you tomorrow, mate!" Tom called out, nearly crashing into a wall as he walked backwards.

Alex waved a goodbye without looking back as he rode his bike home to pick up some stuff for that night's tutoring and training sessions at the Bank, already thinking about other things. It was the third day since Yassen had informed him about the promotion. The man had dropped off an envelope in the middle of that night, filled with SCORPIA's current intel on suspected, current operations from three different organizations. Even though they had been communicating with each other to plan out the staged assassination attempt, Yassen hadn't said a word about the intel. Nothing about why it was there or what the man wanted him to do with it. The package was gone by the next night. Of course, Alex had searched news articles and MI6's own intelligence reports to see if the intel held any merit. Two of them seemed to check out. But Alex had no idea how he was supposed to proceed. He suspected that the assassin wouldn't answer even if he asked. It seemed like something the man would do as a training exercise. The question was whether the intel had been given to him as a sign of goodwill or if it was somehow related to the mock assassination he was going to be carrying out. Or maybe it was something else completely unrela - .

Stopped at a traffic light, Alex put a hand to the sudden, pinching sting that had cut off his musings and found a dart protruding from his neck. Oh fucking bloody hell, he thought as he felt himself losing consciousness and falling off his bike. The world went black.

Low, murmuring voices. That was the first thing that Alex was aware of when he came to. Good to know he was still alive. He didn't know how much time had passed though. His head hurt in that stuffy way that came with being drugged up. Keeping his eyes closed and breathing even, he listened to his surroundings to get an idea of where he was, gradually becoming aware of the fact that he was tightly strapped down to a table in nothing but his boxers with a mat underneath him. The voices were right outside the door and there was a steady dripping sound somewhere near his head. A sterile scent permeated the room but there was still a hint of sweat and blood. Just bloody fantastic. Who had captured him this time? To his knowledge, there shouldn't be anyone out for his blood right now. Unless Jones had been keeping something from him about what was happening in criminal land. Guess he was just going to have to open his eyes and find out. He hoped the fact that he hadn't shown up for the tutoring session with Redwing would tip MI6 off and lead to a fairly quick rescue.

Opening his eyes, Alex examined the room. Everything was a blinding white. The wall, the ceiling, the floor. Even the hose near his head. It was enough to hurt his eyes. The only exceptions were the metal table he was strapped to, the camera in the top right corner, and the cart of tools that he assumed were for torturing people. He tested the restraints. They wouldn't budge. He wriggled around, trying to adjust his position for his hands to fiddle with the restraints.

"Look who's woken up," a woman said as the door opened.

Alex looked up to see a smiling woman, wearing a lab coat, and a man in a black guard uniform with a gun holstered at his waist. Being almost naked with his scars exposed, Alex didn't see much of a point in pretending to be an innocent schoolboy. He glared at them. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"