Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Alex Rider now, and I definitely will not in the future. (This disclaimer applies to all future chapters of this story.)
Alex crouched behind a refuse container in a grungy alleyway, trying not to notice the unpleasant smells lingering in the air. The sky above him was dark and the clouds were ominous, threatening to spew rain at any moment. He tugged the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, wishing he that he was wearing something waterproof.
The weather had been terrible ever since they arrived in Boston, Massachusetts. It was cold, dank, and quite miserable. But he would still rather be here on holiday with the Pleasures than stuck in a classroom all day.
He checked his watch – it read 2:01 P.M. Why was he even sitting here in the first place? He could be out to lunch with Sabina and her mum right now, instead of shivering in some squalid back alley. But of course, his curiosity would not simply allow him to disregard the conversation he overheard this morning.
The spy in him compelled him to investigate.
Was there even any point to this? The two men could have simply been planning something as innocent as a surprise party. They could be completely harmless. Just two guys trying to do something kind for their mother, or sister, or brother…
Then again, if they were planning a party, why would they choose to meet here? There were plenty of other places they could find privacy. This was hardly a pleasant place to be. It was in a rather run-down section of the city, with antiquated shops and seedy-looking vendors.
Yes, something strange was definitely going on here. He glanced at his watch. Four minutes had passed. If he had heard correctly, they should be arriving any moment. This was probably a terrible idea. If they really were up to mischief, there wasn't much he could do to stop them alone. He'd have to get in touch with the CIA, and he was trying to keep as low a profile as possible. It was only a matter of time before someone from his old life tried to recruit him.
And he was just starting to enjoy the simplicity of a normal life.
The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. There was a tall man approaching from the right wearing a long overcoat and dark sunglasses. The coat was sensible on a day like today, but the sunglasses looked out-of-place.
As if on cue, a second man came in from the left, with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The two men met in the middle of the alleyway. Without so much as a handshake, they began speaking in hushed tones.
He stole a peek from behind the container, careful not to make any sudden movements. He strained to pick up something from their conversation, but they were speaking in a language that he did not understand or even recognize.
Slowly, he removed his cell phone from his pocket. Perhaps if he could record their conversation, he could transfer it to his laptop and enhance the audio quality. Then he could run it through a translation program. Something was definitely off about these men. They were planning something, and it wasn't going to be good.
His eyes widened in alarm when he glanced down at his phone. The icon on his screen indicated that he had no cell signal. That was strange, because he remembered having full service when he arrived here. Could the weather be interfering?
No, I don't think that's it.
Suddenly, it dawned on Alex. The men were using some sort of signal-blocker to prevent the few scattered security cameras in the area from transmitting anything until they were gone.
Whatever they were doing, they wanted to keep it a secret.
But that still didn't make any sense. The data would remain in the cameras. It would still be sitting there, waiting to be discovered. Someone, eventually, would find the footage.
Alex realized something that sent a chill down his spine. These men, whoever they were, weren't planning to be alive for much longer. They just needed to operate in secrecy until they completed the job. Most likely, it was a suicide mission.
Were these men terrorists? What were they planning?
Abruptly, all was quiet. He froze, startled by the sudden change.
His breath hitched when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. Slowly, he turned his head…and regretted it immediately. The man with the sunglasses backhanded him so hard that colorful dots danced before his eyes.
His opponent pulled him from behind the refuse container and threw him to the ground, pulling a gun from his waistband and pointing it at Alex. "Should we kill him?" he asked.
"Not yet," the other man growled.
Alex felt something hard and cold collide with his temple, and the last thing he saw was his own blood, splattered on the filthy ground before him. He collapsed and sunk into the darkness.
A/N: This follows my other story, "Never Alone", but there's no need to read that in order to understand this. Comments, suggestions, and criticism are welcome. Although I would appreciate if criticism were stated kindly. Thanks for reading! :-)