Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider. I do not own the 'Alex-goes-to-the-SAS-camp' plot line. All I own is the writing.
The heat pounded onto the pavement, warming the tar to an almost unbearable temperature. The woman's sandals made a slapping noise as she walked hurriedly across the tarmac, a stack of papers balanced precariously in her hands.
A shrill whistle cut through the silence like lightning, startling the woman and causing her to drop her papers. Swearing, she reached into a pocket for her mobile, flipping it open angrily.
"Sara Jackson speaking," she said, annoyed.
The sound of heavy breathing came through the other end. "Turn around." The voice was gruff, speaking slowly and deliberately.
Sara was bewildered. "Excuse me?"
"Turn around." This time there was an edge of menace to the words.
"Of all the stupid things…" Muttering under her breath, Sara turned around, gasping in fear when she saw the man.
He was average in height, average in looks -- average in just about everything, really. There was nothing about him that you would remember; he could blend in effortlessly with any crowd. Perhaps that was necessary, because he was carrying a gun. An automatic pistol, one that could be hidden quite easily. And he was pointing it at her.
Her training kicked in. She immediately ducked and rolled to the side, pulling out her gun as she did so. There were rules, of course – no shooting in public places, no damaging public property, avoid killing at all costs. But this was a life or death situation, and she would be damned before she let herself be killed without a fight.
She fired three shots in quick succession. Two of them missed, but one hit the mark, slamming into his chest with chilling accuracy. His face tightened in pain, and he crumpled to the ground. Sara smiled, and turned to leave.
But the man was not to be defeated so easily. Blood was gushing from the wound on his abdomen, and yet the hand that raised the gun was steady. He aimed, and fired.
His aim was perfect. Sara was left reeling in disbelief even as she fell to the floor, the bullet having lodged itself in her stomach. She was aware of people screaming, and cars swerving off the road, before all was dark.
Alex was doing his homework when the doorbell rang. He heard someone opening the latch on the door. Good. Jack was getting it, then.
"Alex! It's for you!" The yell carried through the house, reaching Alex and causing him to wince. Jack was always so loud, and ever since he had begun working for MI6 his senses had gotten sharper.
He wondered who it could be. All his friends, if they could be called such, were strictly school-only. Except for Tom, of course, but he was sick. No, it was probably someone from the Royal & General. Alex sighed. MI6 was always harassing him about accepting missions. But he had to admit that he had gotten used to it – maybe even started to enjoy it. Thinking about what the rest of the world did for fun – playing football or videogames – never failed to annoy Alex. He wanted, so much, to have a normal life. To have friends, to go to school, maybe even have a girlfriend. To have the only worries in his life be about passing the next exam. But it would be so boring. He hated to admit it, but the missions – the constant threat of danger – made life exciting. Maybe he was crazy. But when he thought about his uncle, father, and every other spy in the world, he was filled with a sense of pride. A sort of, I'm like them. I'm worth something. And the world did need spies. Governments relied on the information they brought; without which there'd probably be chaos.
He headed down the stairs. Sure enough, there was a man standing near Jack. A man that had the presence and immediate power of a fellow agent. It was not noticeable to others; it was not noticeable to Jack, but having inside knowledge, Alex could sense the capability in this man, the skill and authority he held. Though they were strangers, he felt that, on some level, he could identify with him. Alex had to stifle a groan. He really was different, wasn't he? If he felt a connection with a thirty-something year old stranger, and not with other children his own age, then he was right about not being a teenager. No. He was much older than that.
"Hello." He nodded in the agent's direction. "Should I visit the bank?"
The man looked faintly surprised. "Yes. We have a business deal to make with you."
"When should I come?"
"Tomorrow. At the earliest possible moment. It's very urgent."
"Of course. Now, if you don't mind, I have some homework to finish."
The man looked at Alex. "Right then. I hope to see you at the bank." He let himself out.
Jack was staring incredulously at Alex. "What was that, exactly?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing. It's just that MI6 have ordered me to take on another mission in which I will probably die, or, barring that, lose a limb or two." Alex paused for a second. "And you know, the weird thing is, I'm actually happy about it."
Leaving Jack to stare up after him, he left the room and went to finish his homework, humming happily all the while.
Alex entered the bank at precisely 3.04 p.m. Walking straight up to the reception desk, he asked for Mr Blunt. The receptionist looked at him for a moment, measuring him up. Alex felt as though he was being dissected; every organ and bone being measured and then noted down. Only, she was using her eyes instead of a scalpel.
Finally she nodded. "He's in his office. Number 1602."
Thanking her, Alex walked to the lifts. Inside the grey metallic interior, he tried to gather his thoughts. He was being sent on a mission. That much was clear. But what kind of mission? And would it be dangerous? Alex snorted. Of course it would be dangerous.
He reached the sixteenth floor. The doors of the lift opened and he walked out, his eyes already searching for office no. 1602. Finding it, he pulled the door open, not bothering to knock.
Alan Blunt was sitting in his chair, looking intently at a piece of paper in front of him. Mrs Jones was unwrapping a peppermint and placing it in her mouth. Alex couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated. These people had proved themselves to be master manipulators. What would they ask of him next?
"Alex," Mrs Jones said. "Please, sit down."
Alex complied.
"You must be wondering why you're here."
"Not really." He glanced at the paper Mr Blunt was studying. "It's another mission, I guess."
"That's where you're wrong," Blunt spoke for the first time. "Well, actually, only partially wrong. You see, there's been a bit of a problem."
Blunt pressed a button and a screen slid down from the ceiling. A map of London was displayed on the screen. Another click and the map zoomed in, focusing on the Chelsea district. A school was highlighted in bright red.
"That's my school," Alex observed.
"Yes."
Mrs Jones spoke slowly, "A number of people have been getting murdered lately. These people are almost all school teachers, and school children."
Faces flashed by on the screen, men and women of all ages. They were all dead.
"A few weeks ago we received news of numerous killings across Britain. Naturally, we looked into it. One of our own agents, Sara Jackson, was killed as well. It seems that Scorpia has made yet another plan, trying to wreak havoc and cause civil unrest. We don't know the details yet," Mrs Jones paused.
"You want me to find out these details?" Alex asked.
"No. That's for another, older, more experienced agent to deal with."
"Then why am I here?"
Blunt joined in again. "We believe that your school will be targeted next. We can't afford to lose you, Alex. So we have decided to train you."
"I've already been trained." Alex raised an eyebrow. "But if you want me to take the course again—"
"You don't understand. We have decided to train your entire school." Seeing Alex's disbelieving face, he hastened to add, "There will be a trial period. If the program is not satisfactory, then it will be abandoned."
"Let me guess. I'm going to be the guinea pig."
"You and your class. You see, Alex, this way we can keep you and the children safe. Kill two birds with one stone."
"Kill, indeed." Alex muttered under his breath. "Look, where are we going to train?"
"The SAS training grounds."
Alex felt like a weight had been dropped on his shoulders. He would have gladly taken the mission, but this – being sent back to that hellish place – it was almost funny. He would rather deal with psychotic evil master-minds than face Wolf and the rest of K Unit again.
"I don't suppose I have a choice?"
"No."
"Well. I suppose I'll have to agree. But I have a few requests to make."
Blunt raised his eyebrows. It made him look almost human. "What kind of requests?"
Alex pointed at the sheet in front of Blunt. "That."
Mrs Jones looked slightly confused. Mr Blunt, however, did not. His gaze sharpened, and he looked at Alex with calculating eyes.
"But that's just a salary sheet. We keep one for all our agents. It tells us how much we're going to pay them." Mrs Jones's voice petered out as she realised no one was paying much attention to her.
"Exactly." Alex's voice was soft.
Blunt spoke. "You want a salary?"
"Of course. I do just as much work as the rest of your agents, and I get nothing."
"You realise that the money will be put into a trust fund. You won't be able to access it until you're twenty-one."
Alex shrugged. "I'd like to know I have something when I'm an adult. That way I can decide what to do with my life and not need to get a job straight away."
Mrs Jones looked at Alex. "We'd love for you to continue working with us."
"That discussion is for another time. What we must discuss now, of course, is how much to pay Alex."
Mrs Jones spoke slowly. "Well, our other agents are paid according to their rank, skill, and how many missions they undertake."
Alex was interested. "So, if a high-ranking agent did just one mission, they would get paid more than a low-ranking agent who did two missions?"
"Yes. But, you must understand, Alex, that you don't have a rank – technically, you don't exist."
"We'll get him a rank. I think the time has come for Alex to become a full-fledged member of MI6."
Mrs Jones looked incredulously at Blunt. "What…?"
"Yes. You will have a badge, a salary, and an office. Maybe even, occasionally, a partner. I don't think you'd work as well with a partner, but sometimes it is necessary. Also, you will have tutors. We don't want you falling behind in class. If you want to continue working with us, you'll need excellent grades."
Now it was Alex's turn to be taken aback. An office? A badge? Perhaps Alan Blunt was human after all.
"So, how much money do I get?" Alex asked.
"We'll negotiate that later. Right now, you have to go home and prepare."
"Okay. So no one is allowed to know I've been to the SAS training grounds before, right?"
"Correct. Alex, it really is getting late."
"Yes. But I have one more request."
Mr Blunt looked at Alex warily. "What is it?"
"If I'm a member of MI6 now, does that mean I get a gun?"
Mrs Jones immediately began to say no, but Blunt interrupted her. "We'll see."
That was all Alex had been expecting. Nodding his head at both of them, he made his way out.
Going to school had always been fun for Alex. Learning new things, playing with friends… But now, it was a chore. He had no friends, and the rest of the students ostracised him. Except for Tom. But Tom wasn't here right now, was he?
"Hey, look guys," Matthew Parker laughed. "It's Alexis. He's come back from another stay in the hospital."
Alex sighed. It was a running joke of Matt's to call him Alexis. Apparently, it was supposed to highlight how 'fragile' and 'breakable' and 'girly' he was. Not very witty, but who would tell him that?
"Hello, Matt." Alex said warily, trying to make his way to the science labs.
"Where are you trying to go, huh? You gonna leave me here all alone? I don't think so."
Alex stood calmly where he was. He knew that he could beat Matt in a fight with his eyes closed. And Matt knew it too.
"You're so fucking queer, you know that?"
Alex did know that. The boys only told him so every other day. They were always poking jibes at him for being queer. It didn't help that they were right.
"What's going on here, boys?" Mr Donavon appeared out of nowhere.
"Nothing, sir."
"Hmmm. Get to class. Oh, and Alex, you have to go the principal's office."
"Yes, sir."
Alex had to stop himself from running out of the ugly school. What could the principal possibly want him for?
He made his way through the halls and into the secretary's office. The secretary, Miss Jane Bedfordshire, waved at him and pointed to the principal's door. She knew he was supposed to be there.
David Browning was the principal of Brookland. He had once taught at higher, more prestigious schools, but the education board had transferred him. He had been used to posh, well-mannered children, and was now confronted with rude, annoying brats who didn't know what pi was. Needless to say, he had had a bit of a culture shock.
"Ah. Alex. Come in, come in."
Alex walked into the office.
"Please, sit down."
It was hard to choose which chair to sit down in. One had a suspicious red stain on it; the other was mouldy and looked ready to break any second. He eventually chose the red-stained chair.
"So, Alex. You must be wondering why you're here."
Alex couldn't help but notice the similarities between this meeting and the one he had had with MI6.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, the fact of the matter is, you're in a bit of trouble."
"What kind of trouble, sir?"
"You see, Alex, I've been looking at the class register here, and it says you've been away quite a lot this year. In fact, you've been away more than anyone else in the school."
Alex was silent. How was he going to explain this? He could hardly tell him the real reason.
"Now, although your grades haven't slipped, I cannot allow this to go on. It will have to be dealt with. So, Alex, can you promise me that it won't happen again?"
Alex though for a second. Could he promise that? Not really. He was a member of MI6 now. There was no telling when he might be required to go on a mission.
"No, sir."
"Alex," Mr Browning sighed. "This might be easier if you told me why you've been away."
"I've been sick."
"No, you haven't. Maybe everyone else will believe that, but I don't. Where have you been?" This time his voice was stronger, more forceful.
"I just told you, sir."
"Is it drugs? Are you addicted? We can't help you if you won't take the initiative, Alex."
"What? I'm not taking drugs!"
"The thing is, I think you might be. Some of your schoolmates have been complaining, and some are even scared of you."
Scared of him? Alex was dumbfounded. How could anyone be scared of him?
"I'm not taking drugs. I've been sick. You can check in with St Dominics. I stayed there for a while."
Mr Browning shook his head sadly. "Now I know you're lying. St Dominics is only for members of the government or military personnel." He sounded angry, and disappointed. "Why are you lying, Alex? Why are you being so difficult?"
Alex was feeling more and more boxed in. How was he going to get out of this mess?
"I'm not lying! I stayed at St Dominics—"
"And we also have witnesses who say you're violent."
"What?" Alex's voice was faint.
"We have recorded cases of you attacking other students. There are two boys who have confided in me that you harassed them, bullied them, and physically assaulted them behind the bike shed. They also said that this was not an isolated incident."
"I never did that!"
"Really? Did you meet them behind the bike shed?"
"Well, yes, but—"
"And did you harm any of them?"
"Yes! But they did it first—"
"There you have it." Mr Browning leaned back in his chair. "You have now proved, in your own words, that you assaulted another student. You realise you could be taken to court for this?"
Alex was lost for words. "I-I can't believe you!" He finally exploded. "Why the hell would I do any of those things?"
"I don't know, Alex. You tell me."
When Alex didn't answer, Mr Browning sighed. "I'm afraid I have no choice. You will have to be expelled."
"You have got to be kidding me."
"No. I'm not joking, Alex."
Alex struggled to keep his voice low. "Can I- can I have a second chance?"
"I don't know about that."
"Please?" Alex was grasping at straws.
"Well, there is a class trip coming up. Your class has been chosen for the test run of a new program designed to teach kids to protect themselves. Maybe I could let you go…" Alex waited anxiously for his decision. "Okay," he finally said. "But only because you used to be such a good student, Alex."
"Yes, sir."
"But remember – one toe out of line and you are gone, okay?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now get back to class."
Alex left the office, his heart thudding in his chest and close to tears.
Assembly was a horrible affair. It was hard for Alex to sit down for the half-hour before school was over, when all he wanted to do was run home. The conversation with Mr Browning was still running through his mind. Violent. People are scared of you. Was that really true?
"…and now for a surprise announcement." The voice of the principal rang through the auditorium. "A new program has been designed to teach students self-defence. The students will take part in authentic SAS exercises, and learn alongside professional soldiers."
A general buzz of anticipation ran through the rows of students. "Our school has been chosen to test this new program. Unfortunately, only one class is allowed to go at a time. The first class will be 9B."
The noise got louder as the pupils of 9B gossiped excitedly with each other. Alex groaned. If only they knew. That place was hell on earth.
"Hey, Alex," A boy in his class was talking to him. "Are you gonna go?"
"I don't think we have a choice."
"That's too bad. Now you'll ruin it for the rest of us." The boy – John – and his friends laughed scornfully. "Don't worry, though, I'm sure they'll let you take coke with you. Get it? Coke?"
Alex closed his eyes.
Author's Notes:
As I'm sure many of you have noticed, this story is about Alex and the rest of his class returning to the SAS camp. I know this isn't an original idea, but hopefully my version will have a few twists in it. You see, the focus of the story keeps shifting from Alex to K Unit. Also, K Unit find a book – Stormbreaker – and begin to read it. This idea has been done to death in the Harry Potter fandom (where I usually read) but as far as I know, no one has used it in Alex Rider fanfiction.
The style of writing may change a bit (when I shift focus) so please forgive me on that. And the updates for this story will be infrequent; I have other things to do (like study for my exams, which, by the way, I will totally fail). So sorry in advance.
Reviewing is good. Reviewing is appreciated. Reviewing is needed!
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