A/N: This was originally a story about when Mr. Blunt had worked at the 'Bank' for 6 years so far… and it was sort of mean't to be a one-shot about Mrs. Jones… But obviously that swirled out of that line… and into this! I've had so much fun writing it, because the whole point is to show how Alan Blunt might've changed to be the way he is presented in the Alex Rider Series. He would seem a little out of character in the first few chapters because of the personality I wanted to write him with before he changes and eventually forms into the Alan Blunt we all know.

In the Alex Rider Series he only studied for maths, so I added the studies for law in! He's 29 years old here... He was just another normal man before the M.I.6 business.

WARNINGS! LOT of swearing, violence is going to pop up as well. Also, some things in this fanfiction I really wasn't sure about, like training in the police, or the rules. I tried to do some research on it... but then I just gave up. Or even about if Piranha's eat Jaguars or if Jaguars eat Piranhas, so don't take everything to heart.

Disclaimer: Anthony Horowitz owns everything. Oh! Expect Marty... I made him up :)

The Occupation Jeopardy:

Chapter One: Personal Agendas (re-edited— 24th of December, 2012... Yes. Yeah. Yeah, like more than a year since it was uploaded... Sorry!)

He worked there for 6 years so far, and nothing ever really changed. Of course, there were the expected changes, or the occasional unpredicted situations. Every now and again, people would be fired or sometimes retired. He watched people from being employed 'til the day their job ended, change in themselves; personality, emotional and mental attitudes. Sometimes, employers wouldn't be apart of the government any more.

They all had something in common- determination and the mind set, so it was very rare for the employer to just 'give up' being a spy.

The brown haired male had first came into the 'Royal and General Bank' when he was 29 years old. When he first came into the interview, he had his hair length just a bit above his shoulders, to which had been ordered to be cut short. It was slightly straight, and the same natural hair colour he had since he was little. Truth was, none of his family or friends had anything to do with this choice of career at the so-called-bank, but 2 years ago, he almost lost a close friend and it was the week just after he broke up with his former ex-girlfriend. He had just hadn't had much of a break after getting his first degree in maths and at the same time, law.

He wasn't prepared for the situations and his family had kept onto different career choices they pried him to do since year nine. Not wanting to feel vulnerable and ignorant again, he went to become a police officer. However, his former ex-girlfriend, Charlotte, failed to mention that her uncle was one of the top officers in the business. The stale grey eyed man didn't know this until he had almost finished training and was starting his life as a police trainee. His trainer was her uncle.

Irony.

So... Things didn't properly; fights began, phone calls were made, coffees were spilled, jobs were excused, meetings with the manager arose and one time, his final 'mission' had failed. Half of those things didn't necessarily actually happen to him- the issues were like a battle towards the uncle and the uncle's niece's former ex. Alas, before his last mission as a police started, one of the higher officers, warned the brown haired man about his behaviour because Nate, the uncle, was joining.

Nate had literally received a call from Charlotte in tears within the assignment. Another fight commenced. Frustrated, Alan grabbed the phone and told Charlotte not to listen to Nate... That he missed her, that he didn't cheat.

They hadn't caught the burglar.

They heard the alarms too late, however, were lucky enough able to identify who the man was via. CCTV cameras. Whoever the man was, had escaped, though, and that was a point made clear in lectures. Blunt accepted the possibility that he was going to be fired.

'Never do a phone call unless it's to order back-up.'

To the shock of Nate and the stun of the younger male, it was actually Nate who got most of the blame- the yelling. He joined the police to the fact that he couldn't stand people getting hurt or harmed. He wanted to make a difference.

"Blunt!" The higher officer called just before the male could walk away. Nate was walking towards the locker room and Blunt just assumed that he was going to call back Charlotte and explain what happened- comfort her if she still needed it. "I expect better from you next time."

Alan Blunt exhaled, and fidgeted with his hand. "Sir, I get it... I'm… I quit."

The officer's head snapped up to meet Blunts eyes. Blunt was a pretty charismatic and a smart male... Suffice to say, the officer didn't mind him. It came as a shock to hear the words come out of Blunts mouth. One thing he had thought was certain, was that Blunt wasn't easy to give up. "You… quit? You're quitting?"

Blunt nodded, "I don't want to be a police officer. I learnt a lot here, but… I want to be a teacher." Blunt gave a small smile, "You know I went to university for mathematics." He was lucky he went along with it, but back when he agreed, he thought he'd use it to become a lawyer instead. That's what his cousin suggested- 'you're like a calculator,' his cousin had said, 'you're good at observations and knowing what to do. That'd make you a good lawyer.'

The officer looked at Blunt for a moment before sighing, "It's a pity, you're like some fucking spy; we'll miss having you around. You're good."

Blunt laughed, "Why would you say that?"

The officer shrugged, shifting his weight on his feet and laughed, "you're just… I can't explain it. You're good, that's all I'm saying, mate!"

Blunt nodded in head in acknowledgement, the amusement still visible in his eyes. He motioned to move for the main office, to talk to the manager and explain why he quit. He thought over the conversation he just had with the officer in front of him, and realised, with a bit of surprise, that he didn't ask why Blunt was quitting. He figured that the officer just decided to let things be. Sometimes it was okay to not know.

Blunt knew that much.

"Hang on," the officer called again. "Honestly, were you the one who discovered him?"

The younger male looked the officer in the eyes, and nodded, "of course." He swiftly moved away, almost anxious to quit. He's not a police officer, or a spy. Being a teacher, in a classroom with teenagers, seemed like a good idea. It seemed like a great idea.

The officer, Mark Doug, smiled and shook his head. Blunt always tells the truth, but somehow, he has this mischief about him- like he knows something you don't. Maybe, Doug thought, that's just his personality. Eventually, later that day, sometime late at night, he read over the official report, and chuckled to himself when he was informed that Blunt indeed did discover who the burglar was. Not only that but Blunt had known what had happened the second it happened and knew exactly what to do before they were even out of the vehicle. But it wouldn't have been that hard, considering the loud alarm.

"Give me my phone, Blunt! You've no permission to use it!" Nate had screamed, basically near hysterical desperate.

But Blunt didn't say anything. Not to Charlotte. He cut off, and didn't need to listen again- he knew what happened. He was about to say some form of a goodbye to Charlotte, when Nate took advance of the situation and yanked his phone back.

"Darl-"

Blunt slapped the phone out of Nate's hand and jumped out of the vehicle. "Bank, Nate!" Blunt yelled through the open window and then ran off towards the bank. "Idiot..."

Nate exclaimed, hanging up the phone immediately and leaping out of the car once the abrupt alarm in the distance and Blunt's words caught up with him.

The entire assignment had been reported, including that scene. The officer read it all, not knowing whether in sigh to the stupidity of the move Nate had pulled- someone on his phone, in the middle of an assignment, or to laugh at the attitude in which Blunt had carried himself in. He knew that Blunt had part of the fault as well- he shouldn't have attempted to talk on the phone regardless. It wasn't a good situation.

The event of the bank robbery hadn't left Alan Blunt's life straight away. Just the next day, on the evening news, there Mark Doug was, giving an interview about what had happened. Blunt was mentioned. Nate was mentioned. It was also mentioned how Blunt had quit. He had put out various applications since the day after he quit his job. He wanted to be a teacher.

Mainly he just wanted to get back together with Charlotte. Her phone was off and whenever he got the nerve to ring her house, her brother was almost always there, and when he wasn't, the answering machine would just come up. He wandered if she had caller ID- was that why she wasn't answering?

"You need to look for every sign in every situation and use your common sense." Nobody doubted Blunt.


The phone rung.

As Blunt just woke up from sleep, he wasn't sure of the time. He had no job, no alarm to wake up to get ready for university, so therefore, he just figured that it was probably just midday. As he hurriedly ran into the kitchen and yanked the phone off the point, he suddenly realised that it might be Charlotte. He's been calling her for days- besides, who else would ring? Quickly, Blunt exclaimed, "hello?"

"Hello?" Blunt repeated, more agitated when he didn't get an answer.

There was a sudden shuffle at the end of the phone and a male's voice came through the phone. His voice was deep, but when he spoke it was almost in monotone. Blunt got the feeling that the male was young, and that he didn't like the job he had. Assumptions. "Good morning, sir, is this Mr. Blunt?"

Blunt shifted his weight on his feet and said, "I could be, but I'd like to know who you are first."

The man cleared his throat awkwardly, "I… I am at the Royal and General Bank, sir. I'm Simon… I hope you're not busy, at all?"

"I'm meeting a friend today," Blunt easily lied. "Is everything okay?"

Simon almost exhaled in relief- the question proved that Blunt was who he was. Blunt knew it- he was suddenly worried if something wrong had happened to his bank account. Simon, on the other hand, was worried about having more work to do. He's only been working at the bank as some receptionist for 2 months, but he's still getting used to it. If the person over the phone wasn't Blunt- what would he do then? There wasn't any other information that he could use to contact Alan Blunt...

"Sir, I'm afraid you're going to have to come to the bank as soon as you can. Something's happened to your account and we need some new details," he paused, waiting for it all to sink in. "Are you about to come now? We'll only need to talk to you about it quickly, should be no more than an hour."

"That's a long time," Blunt commented pointlessly. He didn't care about the time it took- he had nothing to do today.

Just as there was a pause, Blunt looked out the window and almost sighed. It's 7 o'clock in the morning.

"Oh, sorry, sir," he quickly said, "On a minimal it shouldn't take long… maybe half an hour."

"Sure," Blunt said, "Goodbye, Simon," Blunt said simply and then hung up just as Simon opened his mouth to reply, 'Thank you, sir. Have a good day.'

Alan hooked up the phone and for a moment stared out the window. He groaned and rubbed his face in an attempt to 'wake up'. He walked back into his bedroom and got changed. Soon, he grabbed his keys, his phone already in his pocket and locked the front door behind him. And not long after that, did another ringtone explode to life.

"Al?"

"What happened this time, Marty?"

Marty Liams. Blunt's best friend since Year Two. They were still able to keep in touch- as they went to different high schools; they lived in the same neighbourhood.

"Dude… I just have this weird feeling," Marty said, his voice hushed onto the voice piece.

Blunt got inside his car and slammed the door closed. He didn't like the tone Marty used, but with sleep still fogging his mind after waking up, he didn't want to start driving so soon. "What? What's wrong?"

"I woke up-" There was a rush of movement and then Marty continued, "about an hour ago. I'm okay, don't go all Chuck Norris on me, just… I can't help but feel like I forgot something," Marty's voice sounded more normal and he took the phone directly off his mouth, despite being frantic. "Shit! What if I forgot something important, Al? Like last time… when Brent said that his girlfriend was coming over, but I got drunk that night and she found me lying on the bench crying because…" He trailed off. "What if it's Lisa? Fuck, fuck!"

Brent is Marty's older brother as Lisa is Marty's girlfriend. Blunt smiled into the phone- he would bet twenty dollars that his dear friend over the phone drank too much beer last night because he always gets these sort of paranoid phone calls the next day. "What'd you do last night?"

"Oh fuck off!" Marty exclaimed, a bit too quickly- so after a quick pause, he started laughing. "Fine, fine, Mr. Bond, I had a few beers, but c'mon, bro! I rung because you'd be the more likely person to know since we talk like daily," He put the phone to his mouth again, "If someone didn't know us too well, they'd think I'm fucking gay or something."

"Year Twelve, Graduation- you looked like you were going to kiss-"

Marty groaned, "No! No, come on, I thought I explained that! It wasn't like that… I was... happy! Thinking of started new, cause high school was done… I mean, are you even sure I was looking at-? Because Lisa was walking over from behind-"

No one said anything, but Alan was not worried that he wasn't heading over to the bank. He was happy just mocking his friend over the phone... Besides Marty knows that he understands.

"So, I'll take it that I didn't forget anything today?"

Blunt sighed, "Marty, you didn't tell me anything important about today expect that you need to pick the clothing off the line-"

"-Did that-"

"-Liar... And you know what? It really is gay that I know that you had to pick up clothes and you didn't..." There was no comment. "So, no, you're fine. Everything's fine. And also, stop referring back to when Lisa caught you babbling that one morning- it was two year ago, you sound like a stubborn moron now."

"Fine. Whatever…" Marty inhaled, "Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Talk to you soon?"

"Knowing you, of course," Blunt hung up the phone before Marty could reply.


29 year old Alan Blunt drove into the parking lot of Royal and General Bank. Still six years in the future, he's unsure of why he never had any feeling before he walked through those doors. Marty had a feeling, and he wasn't even there to know what happened…

Simon was there, pointing Blunt to the elevator- 'level 20,' he said. Truth was; Blunt was worried. He never had walked into the bank because they rung him. He just practically got out of university. He's never been bankrupt before- what if he is? What would he do then? He just quit his job as a police officer! Well… he was just a trainee, really, but… he was good, he wouldn't be modest about that.

"Far out," He muttered when he saw that the elevator was in use. He crossed his arms and waited. Level 11… Level 8… 4… 3…

Soon enough the elevator made a 'ding' and opened. He immediately smelt peppermint, oppression you receive from the wall and the rush of air conditioning. And there was someone in there. Her hair reached a little below her shoulder, two columns of a bit of her hair was tucked behind her ears and positioned in front of her. She looked younger than the two other males but the way she stood her ground made her seem more superior. She looked up at Blunt.

For a second, neither moved and then, as Blunt stepped forward she walked forward until they were standing a foot away. The elevator doors closed then, but didn't go up. "Are you Alan Blunt?" She asked, the smell of peppermint hitting his face. The smell was almost unbearable as he honestly hadn't expected that huge aroma to come from someone's mouth- how could she handle that?

"Who are you?"

"I am Mrs. Jones," she smiled, "You're here for your bank aren't you?" She was wearing a silver necklace.

He refrained from sighing, "yes, I am. Are you the manager?"

Mrs. Jones' face brightened and she looked like she wanted to laughed, "I'm not. But if you'd follow me…" She paused, almost waiting for a decline and then started walking back towards the entrance doors.

They ended up walking towards a black car with darkly tinted windows. Blunt had a bad feeling… he didn't know this women, and he found it strange to go into the car. But he always thought that he could handle himself… Maybe he was thinking too self assertive, but… he felt better knowing he did have a taser in his pocket, for example. He can return it tomorrow.

But… he couldn't explain it, something still felt different. Something weird, but not bad. He questioned the lady and she basically gave him a very vague answer. 'To the other side of the bank, to see the manager'. He got into the car, unable to help the edginess he felt. Now, he really did feel like James Bond, and he was not happy about it.

It was a quick ride to the other side of the building. As they both got out of the car and repeated the journey of entering the doors, however, different side of the building, he couldn't help but be flooded with relief and gratefulness. He was always a very paranoid one. He'll probably call Marty after riding back to his house and maybe go over his house. It depends on what happened to his bank. Thinking about it he started feeling apprehensive again.

The appearance was exactly the same, just a different receptionist. This one was a female and she looked more content and natural behind the desk than Simon had. She looked up as Blunt and Mrs. Jones walked in and offered a small professional smile. Mrs. Jones smiled back. Blunt said a nonchalantly, "Hi." She looked back down and continued to file the folders on her desk.

"I'll take you to his office, okay?" Mrs. Jones said in a question; however Blunt followed her to the office wordlessly after they got out of the elevator. Once they had gotten into the office an eerie feeling washed over the dark eyed male, one mixed in with an odd sense of thrill. A man with grey hair and suit sat behind the desk. His brown eyes looked up.

"Thank you, Mrs. Jones," He said, giving a brief nod. Mrs. Jones nodded her head and the man chuckled a bit. "Please sit down," he said.

Blunt sat down.

"I'm Cameron Sebastian; I'm basically in charge of this bank."

"I thought so, what's wrong with my account?"

Sebastian sat back down into his chair, his expression was causal. "You're a police officer?"

"I was."

"You quit."

Blunt nodded, the side of his lip twitching… he didn't come him to small talk. He needed to know what was wrong with his account.

"Why?"

Blunt shrugged but just as he was going to open his mouth, Sebastian asked, "So, you're going to return the uniform after its cleaned?"

"By tomorrow," Blunt mumbled.

"Ah," Sebastian exhaled. "Well, you see, my job is going to be over with soon as well. I've worked for here for about 30 years, if you must know, I'm 50 years old. I've decided to retire- for personal reasoning."

"Oh," Blunt responded plainly. He didn't know what to say. He honestly didn't really care; that's not what he came here to talk about. He knew it was rude to interrupt the man. Blunt had a feeling that he was talking about this for a reason.

"And as long as I've been here, I've seen men like you. I basically know you," Sebastian continued, leaning across the desk now. "I… I know what you want; a good job, morally correct, something… good for you. Something with your skills, right?"

There was a pause. Blunt stared at the man blankly. He was slightly dumbfounded. Were they offering him a job? Why did they lie about his bank account to get him to come here and offer a job? And if that was their main purpose the entire time, why did this Sebastian guy not know that he employed now? It all didn't match up. Finally he said dead-panned, "there's nothing wrong with my bank account- is there?"

Sebastian cracked a humorous smile and said, "No, I'm afraid not. But I have something to offer to you... What do you really care about in this world?"

Charlotte, was the first thought that came to his mind.

When he thought about it, he didn't know what he cared about the most. The were drugs, abuse… a lot of things in the world he's against. He was a bit like Nate in that way- wanting a difference. unlike Nate, he's more content about the title "survival of the fittest." He always had.

Seconds after, he looked up at the man named Sebastian and knew that he cared a lot about his family and friends. He'd be prepared to take a bullet for them.

Blunt decided to just not answer his question. The grey haired male seemed to figure that out as he said, "You can help it, you know. I've heard a lot about you; I know how good you are. I am offering a job, a very important one. You have to be smart, though," Sebastian turned the tables, trying to challenge the dark eyed young adult in front of him.

Blunt was determined not to fall for it.

"It'll change your life forever though… so," Sebastian grabbed a card from inside of a drawer from his desk. He held it front of him, "Call me if you're interested… Your bank account, would be so fulfilling you don't have to worry about the mortgage."

Blunt's glance turned to the card positioned in front of him. Sebastian gave off that he was calm, patient. Blunt was willing to bet he wasn't- because he still hasn't said what the job offer was.

Glancing at Sebastian, Blunt felt as though he gave off a very anti-original and bad advertisement. "Change your life forever", "save the world" and "guarantee of lots of money." All he knew now was that he wanted to leave… and find out more about what he was told. He remembered what Sebastian just told him, as he reached for the card. "So fulfilling you don't have to worry about the mortgage." Was that a bribe? He didn't doubt it. But would a career at a bank really pay that much?

He grabbed the card and put it in one of the pockets of wallets. Once he put his wallet away, Sebastian was looking very passive but please with himself, his fingers intertwined on the desk. "What… What job are you offering?" Blunt finally asked.

"Government affairs."

Blunt stared at the man blankly again. He was beginning to wander if he was being pranked, but he doubted it very highly. Finally he stuttered, trying to figure out more, "So… like an overseas business man?'

"If that's what you'll call it. Sure."

Eventually Blunt stood up, just wanting to go home. Sebastian stood up as well, seemingly on second thought and they shook hands. "Thanks," Blunt muttered and then walked out the door.


Humans are humans, which means emotions will go to extreme highs and lows willingly or not. Blunt always tried to remain calm in situations, because he realised from experience that it equals control. Despite being unemployed on his own accord, everything from the past few days... And months, overwhelmed Blunt's fatigue and he wanted to throw something at a wall.

He thought about chucking the remote at the TV.

He was so frustrated.

He already knew he was going to take the job.

Well… he thought he was, but he was still going to think straight through it more properly and perhaps then, he'll change his mind. He wanted a simple life, a good paying job and a bank job seemed to be that. Whether or not he was going to be an overseas business man didn't matter.

He wouldn't mind it though, he always wanted to travel around the world.

He settled into the couch around 20 minutes later, with a beer in his hand and the phone in the other. It's only 8:30am in the morning. He doubted that Marty was still asleep, but it didn't matter anymore. He was started to feel nostalgia and wanted to escape it. All he could think of now was the 'what if's with Charlotte.

Marty picked up the phone after first five rings, which didn't surprise Blunt.

"Al?" Marty sounded confused.

"Yeah, it's me. What are you doing?"