Spy Guy: Hello. This is an Alex Rider AU fanfiction taking place during and after Skeleton Key. The premise is: Instead of giving up on Alex, he allows him one more chance and succeeds with his plan. I've had this posted for a while, and recently decided to go through and clean it up a bit. A lot has changed so old readers should start from the beginning (even though this chapter has remained mostly intact, the others are quite different.)

Thank you for reading. :D And, please review!

-Lor


Prologue: Failure

Alex had never thought that a plane ride could be so agonizing.

The feeling of failure sat heavily in his stomach like a stone, keeping him from drifting off into oblivion. He couldn't tear his mind away from the bomb sitting at the harbor. With every passing second, its timer counted down.

It wouldn't be long before it would reach zero.

The boy felt ashamed of himself, sitting in a plush leather seat, eating well-prepared food and breathing clean, circulated air. Soon, thousands would be dead, while the survivors...the survivors would rot from the inside out, poisoned by the tainted air and water.

Everything would be changed.

"You truly do have the spirit of a soldier, Alex Rider." Sarov murmured softly, fixing his captive with icy blue eyes. He seemed to be sizing him up, almost analyzing his reaction. Alex tried to make his face a blank slate, but knew that he was failing miserably. He couldn't hide the powerful feelings of pain and despair that showed clearly on his features. Especially not from Sarov. The old man could read him like an open book.

"Resourceful and quick. I will have to watch you." The General continued in a cold voice. Alex knew that the man was still angry about the stun grenade. After they had returned to the plane, Sarov's henchman, Conrad, had been ordered to check all of the boy's pockets. He quickly found the stick of Smither's gum, and soon it was in the trash bin, eliminating Alex's last chance for escape.

The boy pretended not to listen, turning instead to look out the window. All he could see were dense clouds, filled to the brim with precipitation. Soon, they would spill over, and shower the earth below them with either a cold rain, or a soft snow. He wished that he could be down there, among those people, oblivious to the tragedy that was about to befall them. He wished that he could warn them...

He wished that he could warn anybody.

"It will be a while until we reach Moscow." The General said, his voice too calm for the disaster that he had just set into motion. "You should sleep Alex. It has been an eventful day for you. You must be exhausted."

Alex refused to acknowledge the man's words, staring fixedly out the window.

"You can ignore me all you want, boy." Sarov continued, a menacing tone creeping into his words. "But once you have nothing to return to, you will cling to me. Russia will be your new pillar of strength. Soon, you will speak her language, and breathe her air. You will cheer her name as she emerges from the ashes of this old world. In time, you will love her. What do you say to that?"

"I say that I'm British." Alex hissed, reeling on the old man. "I don't like what MI6 has done, but to--"

"To kill people is wrong?" Sarov snapped, his eyes narrowing. "You are such a smart child, and yet you are so naïve."

"At least take me back home." The boy growled, meeting his captor's gaze for the first time since the bomb's activation. "I have friends there."

To Alex's despair, the old General shook his head, knitting his fingers together as he sat up in his own seat, suddenly very solemn.

"I cannot allow that, Alex." Sarov murmured. "I would be signing your death warrant. Perhaps, years in the future, you will be able to visit, but, for now, you must stay with me...where you are safe."

"I don't want to be safe!" The young spy shouted, letting out a frustrated scream. He closed his eyes, mentally berating himself for his failure. So many people would die, because he wasn't fast enough...because he wasn't smart enough, or good enough. And now...he couldn't go home. He would have to watch as the world fell around him, from the safety of a cushy prison cell.

The boy didn't want to be the rich son of a powerful man. He didn't want to be protected while his country died. He wanted to be suffering with them...beside them.

Why couldn't Sarov understand that?