This was written for the November SpyFest prompt, as it hit me hard with an idea. The prompt was: "Gunpowder, treason, and plot."

Disclaimer: Unless Anthony Horowitz is a college student with $2.93 in his bank account, then no, I do not own Alex Rider.

Chapter One: Round in the Chamber, Target in the Sights—Pull the Trigger

Joanne Talbot shrugged off her scarf as she stepped inside the warm, little Italian bistro. It smelled heavenly, and she breathed in, shaking her hair loose from her cap. She smiled at the hostess, but continued past the reception towards the back of the room. There, in one of the booths, sat the man she had come to meet. His face was cast in shadow due to the dim lighting, but she saw his leg tapping on the floor in an inconsistent rhythm. She did not approach him, though.

Joanne stepped up to the small bar cloistered into the corner and slid into a seat, ordering a glass of wine. She swirled it and gazed at the mirror across the bar and the man reflected in it. He seemed nervous, she perceived. But not to a point of recklessness. He was tapping his foot and fingering his jacket pockets, but he was not glancing around surreptitiously or rubbing at an ear.

Joanne spent a few more minutes sipping her drink before she twisted the head of her watch thrice counter-clockwise until it clicked, and stood to her feet. That would take care of any listening devices. She made her way over to the booth, the sound of her heavy boots mostly drowned out by the opera music playing in the background. She placed her glass down with a clink, causing the man to jolt as he noticed her presence. His pale brows furrowed as she slid into the booth, heavy-lidded eyes watching her.

"Fancy seeing you here," Joanne spoke. "Tell me, how are the kids? Mary?"

Comprehension flickered across the man's face and he hunched forward. "Look, I don't want to draw this out. Let's just get this over with." He muttered.

Joanne's lips curled in a sharp smile. "Now, is that really any way to talk to an old friend, Randall?"

Randall slumped back, perhaps going for nonchalant, but gazed at her darkly. "I did my part of the bargain, now do yours. There's no more need for this cloak-and-dagger shite. You said nothing would get back to me. I'm holding you to that." He seemed as if he was trying to come across stern, but his throat bobbed.

Joanne let the smile drop, leaning forward and tilting the wineglass back and forth. She swept her gaze over the rest of the bistro before letting it fall on Randall once again. "As long as you took proper discretion, you have nothing to worry about. Now, I think I'm as eager as you for this association to end, so why don't you give what I came for and I'll take it off your hands?" Joanne placed her palm atop his clenched fist.

Randall's eye's flickered around the room before he reached into his pocket with his free hand and then brought it to rest atop the table. Joanne smiled as she nimbly maneuvered the flash drive out of his grasp and placed it in a small pocket sewn into the band of her glove.

She moved to retract her hand, but Randall darter forward, holding her wrist. He licked his lips, darted a glance at a passing waiter, "The boy—he won't come to harm? You never said."

Joanne jerked her hand out of his grasp. "I don't believe that is relevant to you. Thank you for your generous contribution, Randall, it will not go to waste." She gave him one last parting smile, cheeks dimpling, and stood from the booth. She pulled on her hat, wrapped herself in the thick scarf once again, and exited the bistro. Her stomach growled in hunger but she hardly felt it. She had what she needed.

Joanne walked down a side street in Greenwich, over-warm in her heavy clothes. It may be November but the sun was high in the sky and the weather unseasonably warm. The streets were lively, full of shoppers and vendors taking advantage of the day, and Joanne had to resist removing her scarf as it stuck to the sweat on her neck. It wasn't solely due to the heat, though. She was exhilarated. The last source of information she'd been waiting for was now in her possession. Finally, she was ready to move into the enactment stage. Everything was planned out, meticulously hashed and rehashed. She couldn't account for all the variables, but she could roll with any roadblocks thrown her way. She was prepared.

Joanne pulled a cell phone out of her jacket pocket and hit speed dial, calling the only number programmed into the phone.

"Hello?" it was picked up on the first ring.

"Mr. Walters. The last of the data has been acquired. I'll contact you tomorrow and set up an appointment." Joanne spoke quickly before hanging up, knowing how Walters could be when left an opening.

She paced down the street, taking in the sights and sounds and smells.

Soon.

Soon, it would all change.

On the other side of London, in Chelsea, a blond-haired boy sat in the kitchen of an apartment and sipped on a cup of earl gray as he gazed out at the sunny day.

This chapter tops out at about 800 words and is the shortest of the lot by far. Not super exciting, I know, it's really just for exposition purposes, and all the rest will be Alex's POV. There will be 5 chapters in total and I currently have all five written, I just need to edit them. The whole story got away from me a bit, and is currently at 18k words, and each chapter is longer than the previous (The last chapter actually comprises about half of the words, oops). I plan to upload at least the next two chapters today as well, and maybe the fourth. The fifth will definitely be waiting till tomorrow though.

Thanks for reading, and any reviews are appreciated, especially constructive criticism, as I'm always looking to improve.