So… this is my first voyage into the world of Alex Rider fanfiction. I've been reading it for quite some time now, so I thought I'd give writing it a go. This has probably been done before, but I wanted to try it myself. I like to think of it as a character exploration, so that any future AR fics I may write in the future will have characters that are more… in-character…thanks to this… because it might have helped… Um. Yeah.

I don't have any of the Alex Rider books with me, so I apologize for any (minor) canon discrepancies. Feel free to correct any you spot. If there are any, that is. The rating might go up to T, 'cause there might be swearing (it's entirely possible; I use excessive foul language myself) in the future. Some violence, perhaps?

… And I'll shut up now. Sorry for the long author's note.


The vehicle sped along the road, picking up speed as it went. The driver maneuvered twists and turns in the lane seemingly without care, at ease, though his mind was not nearly as calm as he physically appeared to be. As he drove, his thoughts whirred.

Sayle… Stormbreakers… virus… MI6… Alex…

Herod Sayle was not the generous man he appeared to be. His Stormbreaker computers were infected with a virus… a strain of smallpox… he was planning to mass murder all of the innocent schoolchildren in the country. And for what? A petty revenge on the Prime Minister.

Ian knew he had to get back to MI6, and right away; they needed to be informed. If he made it back at all… (An alarm had gone out. Ian wasn't stupid; he could tell when he was being trailed, or when it was entirely possible that he was going to be.)

No, he chastised himself; he couldn't think like that. He had to give MI6 the intelligence he'd gathered. He had to get back home, to Jack, to Alex.

Alex. Before Ian could stop it, a mental image of the boy's face, brown-eyed and cheerful, flashed through his mind. Somehow, that single picture was a reminder of everything he'd done; training the boy: exposing him to different languages and cultures, giving him little tips on things like how to pickpocket and the like, signing him up for karate classes, going scuba-diving with him… everything he'd done, he'd been preparing the boy, and one day, it would all lead to—

No, Ian said to himself, turning a corner on the road. Focus.

Those were the last things he thought before a spray of bullets shattered the glass of his car's windshield and found their mark.


Uh, I hope this didn't /completely/ suck. Feel free to flame if it did. And it's supposed to be short, 'cause it's a drabble and all. Yeah. -cough- Reviews/constructive criticism are appreciated. :)