Prologue
Disturbia n. (dĭ-stûrb'ē-ə)
The feeling of dread or shock that comes with the realization that something that is usually considered normal and safe is, in fact, horribly dangerous or wrong.
I can't say I was exactly surprised at the situation I found myself in. That is, on top of a tall building with a gun in my mouth. The location – Royal and General Bank – was ironic, to say the least. Ironic, yet fitting. It was in so many ways the place where I was born; created at least, and it seemed that it would be the place I would die as well. This prospect didn't exactly bother me. It's not that I welcomed the thought of death; no, I wasn't that morbid - but it was more of a weary resignation to it. Whichever way the dice rolled, I would accept its outcome and go with it. That is how I survived the last four years of my existence after all. It was a bit off putting that the one who was currently shoving the gun in my mouth was no other than my closestfriend Tom Harris.
Aah, poor Tom. He was never meant to be mixed up in all this. But then, was I? It seemed that Lady Fate took no discretion when it came to meddling in the lives of innocent children. True, it was all the fault of that damn uncle of mine. But then, he would have never had to take me in if Ash didn't have to go and blow up my parents. Of course, Scorpia were the people behind that one. So, truly, my whole existence was because of them. Hmm, that was an interesting prospect. I had never really thought of it like that before.
I suppose I can't really blame Ian. My life had been good with him. Sure, he was gone half the time, but that really wasn't his fault. And he did love me. We had been close. Then Yassen had to come into the picture and screw everything up.
My Life and My Existence. Yes, they are two completely different things. I like to landmark them as 'before the 'crash' and 'after the 'crash.' Not that there was any actual crash of course. Well, I suppose that there might have been one after the volley bullets ripped through the car's metal frame and through the flesh and bone of my uncle. So yes; the 'crash.' My Life had been fairly normal; at least as normal as it could have been with my upbringing. It was simplistic and I was content. I died when my Existence started. Well, I didn'tdie. I was born. Alex was the one who died. It took me awhile to realize it, but when I did, everything became so much easier. I no longer had to think about my morality. I just did what I was told like a good, little spy. Alex was the one who worried about killing, about differentiating wrong from right. That didn't matter to me; I did what I had to, to finish the job just as quickly as I could. Sure, I didn't go around blasting innocents left and right- I wasn't that corrupt – but a random guard here or there who got in my way, someone who knew too much and endangered the mission. Well, it was to be expected. It was my job to finish whatever I started and that's what I did. Of course, I still went by the name Alex. Alex Rider. But that wasn't me. I'm not really sure who I am now.
I moved my thoughts back to the more immediate concerns. Tilting my head slightly, I looked at my friend. Dear Tom. I felt bad for him. He looked so tired, so worn. His face was hardened and cold, but now I could see that he just wanted it to be over. So similar to me, yet still so different. We had been through so many things, it didn't seem quite fair. I could see the hope still in his eyes. It was there, burning bright as ever, thinking that maybe, maybe something would happen. Maybe it would be all right. I admired that about him. Even after all this, he still believed there was something better. Something reachable. He didn't want to die. I could see that, but he was desperate; desperate and tired. He just couldn't find any other way out. And to be truthful, neither could I. So, he decided to end it all himself. But he was scared. He didn't want to go alone, so he was taking me with him. Not that I blame him, he was certain he was doing me a favor as well. Besides, I am so sick of blaming people. And I was tired too. I wouldn't mind going to sleep…finally.
My mind wandered again. I somehow found it comforting - in a morbid, grotesque kind of way- that I would die the same death as my father. Sure, the circumstances were different but we both will have died in the same way; by the hand of our best friend. I suddenly found myself forgiving Ash. After all, who knows what he was thinking when he planted that bomb. Perhaps he thought he had good reasons as well. Maybe in a few minutes I could ask him myself.
But what did that matter anymore? They were all dead anyway. My Parents, Ian, Ash, Jack. Everyone. Hell, even Blunt was dead. Funny that. The head of MI6, the mastermind of the whole organization, the person who had destroyed my Life (and my Existence), that damned lying bastard, was killed by a trucker. A stinking, drunken trucker, on the way home. Aah well, good riddance. He deserved to die in such a humiliating fashion. It was only fitting. I only wish I had been there to see it…or maybe been the one to run him down…
"Sorry, Alex." Tom's quiet voice broke though my reverie. I looked over at him from the corner of my eye and shrugged, trying to move my tongue in a more comfortable position around the gun. My ears were ringing as I suddenly registered the nark of sirens from below. I could see the red and blue lights flashing across the wall of the building opposite. Tom would have to hurry up and get it over with. I suppose that anyone else would find the noise of the sirens welcome, a hope that perhaps they might be saved. Me; I just found them annoying. Hell, maybe I would pull the trigger myself just to get the ringing out of my brain. I saw a news van coming down the street. Wow, they were making a big deal about this. For all they knew, we were just a couple of teenagers who couldn't hack it anymore. Well, Tom was. I was his only friend and he decided to bring me with him. That's how they would portray him. That's how the world would remember him. Tom Harris – the murderer. In that moment, I wanted to reverse our roles. Me be the one holding a gun in his mouth. Tom wasn't a murderer. He was a good person. He was just that goofy kid who had always been by my side no matter what, after everyone had turned their backs on me, after they had turned their backs on him just for being my friend. I didn't want him to be remembered badly. I brought my gaze back over to my friend and saw him staring at me. He looked like he was about to cry, but desperately holding back, trying to appear brave. He was brave. Tom was the bravest person I knew. I wished I could tell him that but the gun in my mouth made that impossible.
Something changed in his eyes then, and I knew he wouldn't do it. He had thought that he could pull the trigger, kill me. But he couldn't. I knew that. He knew that. And he pulled the gun out of my mouth.
We stared at each other in silence for a moment, and then he turned away. He knelt and placed the gun very carefully on the ground and stood back up. I knew what he was saying with that gesture. He was inviting me to come with him. He would jump; and then I could blow my brains out myself.
I watched as Tom took a few steps forward, his toes hanging over the edge of the building. By now someone was shouting through a megaphone at us. I didn't hear what they were saying though. I didn't listen. Whatever it was, it didn't matter.
"Do you think…" Tom spoke softly to me, his eyes downcast towards the little people below. "Do you think there's something after this, Alex? Something more…something better?"
I was silent, watching my childhood friend as he was about to kill himself. I was suddenly very aware of how precariously he was balanced over the street below. Tom looked back at me over his shoulder. His eyes were glassy and I could hear the desperation bordering on hysteria layering his voice. "Do you?"
I thought about it seriously for a few moments, bringing my gaze to the stars above. Did I believe that there was something waiting for us after all this?
"I don't know, Tom." I replied, shaking my head very slowly back and forth. I glanced down, unable to hold his stare. My eyes rested on the pistol at my feet. I knelt down and took the gun in my hand, the metal cold in my palm. I stood up slowly, staring at the black object held loosely in my grip. The cold spread from my hand and moved across my body. I suddenly realized how very cold I actually was. It was a freezing night and all I wore was jeans and a t-shirt.
It was funny; how everything was snapping into place, one piece at a time. Each part making up the whole, bringing it all into focus. I felt like I had been in shock, and slowly, slowly I was coming out of it; realizing exactly what was happening here on this cold, dark night. Realizing exactly why we were standing here atop a building, looking down.
I pulled my eyes away from the gun and looked back up to Tom. The events that led to this moment all flooded back to me like a tidal wave.
"Do you really want to find out just yet?"