This one-shot covers the same situation rumored to happen in Scorpia Rising which I've already spoofed in the 'Mary Sue to the rescue.' Chapter of my Fanfic, 'This is K-Unit and Other Silly Stories.', but obviously I've gone for a completely different and much more serious angle this time. And I also know that it certainly wont end the same as this does in the actual book!
Disclaimer: The Alex Rider series belongs to Anthony Horowitz, not me. Just thought you'd like to know that!
"So how do you think your going to escape this one, Rider?"
Alex glared up at the speaker as several Scorpia agents with machine guns aimed at him fanned out around the pit of sinking sand that Alex had just been thrown into, careful not to step into it themselves.
He didn't reply. What was there to say?
There was no way out this time. Scorpia finally had Alex pinned down with their pincers and he couldn't see how he could possibly escape the slowly descending venom filled sting that would be the end of him.
If he tried to escape from the quick sand, he would be shot to pieces in seconds. If he didn't escape, he faced being suffocated to death as he sunk.
The dirty sand was around his thighs now and his instincts were crying out for him to thrash round and try to escape. But he knew that would simply speed up the process, and it would give the Scorpia members pleasure to see his fruitless and undignified attempts to escape. No, he couldn't escape, the only thing he could do was to give them as little satisfaction with his death as he could. Though that still wouldn't count as much of a victory, as he would be dead what ever happened.
There was no way out. No one who could help him escape. No hope. A flame that had burned so brightly all this time, pushing him to live no matter what, had been slowly going out for a couple of weeks now. All that had happened to him recently had gone towards killing him a little more inside. And now that flame finally guttered and went out. With it went his will to live.
"You can't kill me, I'm already dead inside." He screamed out, but only in his mind. The thought gave him a tiny speck of confidence and relief. He was already dead. Nothing they could do to him mattered anymore. He was beyond life. Beyond caring.
Dully he looked down at the sand as it slowly consumed him, now starting eat up his stomach . The surface of the viscous material blurred out of focus as he seemed to gaze right through it. His arms fell limply to his sides, the sinking sand quickly claiming them.
The sound of mocking laughter made him look up. "The great Alex Rider given up already? Where's you bravado now? Where are your stupid jokes?"
He didn't reply. What was there to say?
"Oh come on." The man carefully considering him from the platform above purred, "Stop being so boring. It's not often that Scorpia gets to kill off such a pesky little insect as you, Mr. Rider, why don't you make it more interesting?"
He didn't reply. What was there to say?
He simply hung his head again, but then snapped it up again a second later as he heard the unmistakable sound of a guns safety catch being flicked off.
Alex's empty brown eyes met darker brown ones, fervently alive with malice.
In his left hand he held an old fashioned pistol loosely at his side.
Alex watched as it was casually raised slightly to point down at him.
"No matter, I will liven things up a little myself.
Suddenly a shot rang out. The Scorpia agents with their machine guns levels at Alex didn't so much as flinch.
The teenage spy however couldn't help letting out an agonized cry of pain as a bullet lodged itself in his right thigh. The sinking sand had done little to slow it down and nothing to divert it from its course.
The pain was incredible. Sure, he had been shot before, but that did nothing at all to decrease the agony he was in.
His breath hissed out through his lips as he tried to stop himself whimpering with pain. But it just hurt so much. Can't you feel his suffering? The stabbing, the burning, the pure torture of the wound...
He was leaning down now, his hands clutching at his leg below the sand, which now had murky dark brown swirls in it from his blood. Eyes opened, but sight blurred with tears of pain, Alex contemplated ducking his head under the sand to end it all. But he couldn't do it. He might have lost the will to live, but he hadn't gained the will to die.
"Come on little Alex, beg for life like a good boy, why don't you? If you're lucky I might just let you go!"
He didn't reply. What was there to say?
He was lying anyway. Everyone knew that, even the emotionless, silent mannequins surrounding him with their machine guns.
Slowly Alex straightened up as best as he could. He wasn't sinking as fast now, though it would do no good for him to hope that he had somehow managed to reach the bottom of the sinking sand. Did quick sand even have a bottom? Or was it just some sort of black hole which sucked you down, down, down?
Their eyes met. There was no glare from Alex this time, only a blank, empty look that said, "You can't kill me, I'm already dead inside."
As the pistol was calmly reloaded and steadily aimed at him again, the muzzle roaming over his body, there was the slightest flicker of fear in his eyes though. Alex squashed it down. Fear would not help him. Nothing could.
He felt the pain before he heard the 'crack' of the firearm going off. A bullet smashed through his left arm, just a little below the shoulder, splintering the bone as it went.
"You can't kill me, I'm already dead inside."
But not to pain it seemed. Why did it hurt so much when he was already dead? It made no sense to Alex. He let out a scream of pain as the bullet tore through him, its power forcing Alex's body to twist harshly to the side, though not nearly as much as it would have done if he hadn't been stuck in sinking sand.
Blood splattered over the sand behind him in a fine spray of mist. Some of it reached the Scorpia agents, peppering their dusty army fatigues. But if they noticed they didn't react. Most of the rest quickly permeated into the sand below it, leaving behind slightly discoloured spots on the surface.
Why hadn't his body yet joined his soul in death? Why had he not at least fainted from the overwhelming pain? It just wasn't fair, less then this would surely have been enough to finish someone else off, surely, so why couldn't he, Alex, child spy with the luck of the devil, be allowed that final release more easily? His time of dying was close. He was knocking on deaths door. But he would rather forget niceties right now and simply smash that door down, grab hold of Death's skeletal hand and embrace the one thing that bound all the lost friends and family who had gone on before him.
His left arm now hung limp at his side, largely submerged in the sinking sand. His other hand clutching at his newest injury, transferring thick muddy sand onto his arm and blood onto his hand.
No. He must not cry. Must not cry! Alex screwed his eyes up, whole body hunched, though that would do little to protect him and probably mean that the sand would drown him quicker.
The pain was so, so terrible. He just wanted to let go and die. Oh why wouldn't he just die? The urge to scream in pain and frustration was welling up inside him, as were the tears, but he refused to let Scorpia have the pleasure of seeing him break down and cry.
"Oh wait, I almost forgot something!" That accursed voice rang out cheerfully.
Alex hardly dared look, but though it was most probably just what the sadistic bastard in front of him wanted, he had to.
There was a sudden small flash of light, then another. The Scorpia executive held a slim black mobile phone up, taking pictures of the bloody and defeated child below him.
"Don't worry; I'll make sure to forward a copy of these pretty pictures to your friends at MI6."
He didn't reply. What was there to say?
Except, perhaps, that he had no friends at MI6? Not after Smithers death…
It was then that the phone started to beep.
"Oh my, will you look at the time?" We are going to be late for our flight. I would so love to stay Alex, I really would, but you're simply not worth jeopardising our whole operation for. You know what it's like with this sort of thing."
He didn't reply. What was there to say?
Once again that ornate, old fashioned pistol was casually reloaded and aimed. It was held level with his head for a few seconds, just enough for Alex to be sure his time had finally come, only for it to be suddenly lowered and the catch flicked back on.
"Ha! Got you that time, didn't I? But a bullet through the heads is much too an easy death for you. No, I will leave to the quick sand. Slowly chocking to death on lungfuls of sand must be a truly terrible way to die. Though I wouldn't be surprised if one of my bullets has already severed a main artery, is which case you should soon bleed to death. Either way, these are your last few minutes of life. Enjoy them!" With that he motioned with his hands to the other Scorpia men, each of whom relaxed their grip on the machine guns and swiftly exited. Their boss started to turn round, as though to leave before pausing and turning round again. "Gregorovich?" The name was spoken loudly, and like a question.
"Yes sir?" The reply came from behind him as the assassin slunk into view like a panther emerging from the rainforest.
"How long have you been there Gregorovich?" He asked casually, but it was clear from his tone of voice that even he, someone so high ranking in Scorpia was a little unnerved by the assassins' sudden appearance, even if he had suspected that he was there.
"The whole time Sir." Came the level, emotionless reply.
"Watch him. Make sure he doesn't escape. Tell me how he dies." These three orders were barked out as he walked away, giving Yassen Gregorovich no opportunity to question them.
Slowly he turned his head to look down at the boy. For a moment his blank, hooded eyes met Alex's. But neither could stand to hold the others gaze for very long. Yassen because Alex reminded him so much of John. For him it was almost like seeing his old mentor dying before him. For Alex it was a mixture of excruciating pain which made concentrating on anything pretty much impossible, combined with the way looking at the Scorpia assassin felt like gazing at some dark and unholy ghost returned to haunt him. He still couldn't believe that Yassen Gregorovich was alive. It was a shock he didn't think he would ever get over. And in fact, ne never would. He would die long before the time it would have taken for him to get used to the idea that his father's friend and uncle's murderer was still alive.
"I told you, you didn't belong in this world."
Here finally was something Alex found himself replying to without even planning to.
"You did." The agreement was said heavily in a painful, raspy voice, but with little emotion to it. "It was too late by then. It seems that Ian had been training me to be a spy ever since my parents died, I just didn't realise that at the time. He wanted to take over from him once he was gone. And once he was, MI6 complied with his wishes. They didn't care that I was 14." He sounded more resigned then bitter. Did Yassen pick up that in a way, Alex was blaming him? If he hadn't killed Ian, Alex wouldn't have been forced to take over from him at such a tender age.
If he did, he didn't acknowledge it. "I never liked MI6."
There was clear weariness in Alex's reply, "I never liked them either."
By now all his strength seemed to have deserted him. He felt light headed and dizzy from blood loss, while that and the pain sapped all his strength. He could barely stop himself collapsing forward into the sinking sand, which had by now consumed most of his ribs. It was so slow, why couldn't it eat him up quicker and then drag him off to Hell, where he would no doubt end up for all those people who had died because of him. What of all the lives he had saved though? Surely they made a difference?
Once more there was a subtle clicking noise. Yassen had removed the catch from a small hand gun he must have pulled out from a pocket while Alex wasn't looking.
"Are you going to shoot me?" He was just so tired, too tired for there to be any fear in his voice.
"You can't kill me, I'm already dead inside."
And yet, he knew deep down that he still feared pain. But surely one bullet to the head would end all the pain quicker then bleeding to death, or drowning in this slow, slow quick sand?
"I was told to watch you to stop you escaping, not to kill you."
The great Russian assassin, refusing to kill someone? Though it wasn't really the first time. True, he had forced Alex into that Bullring, but now it seemed more as though that had been a test then a real threat on his life. And then there was that time he was shot for not shooting Alex... but now he wanted that bullet. He just wanted all the pain to end.
"Why, do you want me to shoot you?"
"Depends. If I say yes, will you refuse to just to spite me?"
He had to know the truthful answer. Once again their eyes met as Yassen answered steadily, staring straight back at him to show he wasn't lying, "No."
"I thought you didn't kill children."
"You're not a child anymore though, are you, Alex Rider?" There was a hint of something in his voice, almost as though he was trying to convince both of them that what he said was true, when he didn't really believe it.
It was true that past events had forced him to grow up much faster that anyone his age should have to, but staring down at the bloody and defeated child below, Yassen couldn't stop thinking how young he looked and what a waste of a promising life this was. Alex had so much more to offer the world, so many more lives he could save, so much pain he could stop. Were as Yassen Gregorovich would go on to live for many more years, all the while taking away others lives for mere money. There truly is no justice in this veil of tears.
Alex wanted to talk some more, but the pain seemed to be growing rather than diminishing as the end approached and he so, so wanted for all the pain to stop. "Please." He whispered, ashamed to find himself begging for the bullet. "Please just do it." For the first time in many years, there was a flicker of pain in Yassen's eyes at the thought of the life he was about to take. He would happily have killed hundreds of people rather than have Johns son beg him for death. But for once Yassen was about to commit the lesser of two evils. Better to kill him now then leave him to a much, slower painful death, though he surely couldn't have all that much longer to live now.
He lifted the gun, it felt much heavier in his hand then it's light aluminium frame should.
Now he could see that there were tears glittering in the boy's eyes, as hard as he was trying to stop them. To his shock and shame Yassen found his own eyes prickling. He hadn't cried since he was a small child. He couldn't cry! He hadn't shed a single tear when his wife and daughter were killed by an enemy, who in turn, Gregorovich himself had killed. Nor had any tears escaped him when he had learnt of John Riders death. Or when he had made his first killing.
So why now? He couldn't explain it. He could barely control it. But his voice was steady when he spoke again. "Where?"
There was understanding and relief on Alex's face. "Here." He pulled up one heavy, sand covered hand and placed it briefly over the bullet wound on his chest before letting his hand drop down again, leaving a streak of dirt on an area of his top which was barely above the level of the sand. "This is where I was shot before by someone from Scorpia. He only just missed my heart. You might as well finish the job." Alex could barely say the words, but Yassen heard them.
For a few seconds Alex stared down the barrel of a gun, saying his final, silent goodbyes before one more shot rang out.
Yassen turned away from the body behind him. He had shot straight and true, his bullet piercing the teenager's heart and ending his life. Now it was up to the sinking sand to claim him and hide what Gregorovich had done. He raised his hand to his cheek and brushed something away from there. Glancing down at his hand he saw it glisten. Tears. And once one fell, he couldn't stop them. He sat down on the rotted drunk of a fallen tree, head hung and tears tracing down his cheeks. He watched them fall to the floor, making tiny dark indents on the light, sandy soil below. These tears were inconceivable. How could he, Yassen, an assassin be effected like this? It just wasn't possible! And yet the tears still slowly fell. Here, alone in this rainforest was the first time he had cried in so many years. It would also be the last. No tears would ever escape him again.
He would stay here for a long time before heading back, waiting for the tears to stop and the redness to fade away from his eyes. Then he would stand up and go, no looking back. That was the saying that he lived by. Never look back.
As I finished writing the song 'Tears of an Angel' was playing on my computer. What a sad and fitting song! Though I can't remember who It's by…
"Cover my eyes,
Cover my ears,
Tell me these words are a lie.
It can't be true,
That I'm loosing you.
The sun cannot fall from the sky.
Can you hear it cry,
The tears of an angel.
Tears of an angel.
Tears of an angel.
Tears of an angel…"
And yeah, Yassen crying is pretty OOC, but it just ended up happening XD. The reason he was even in there is because Anthony Horowitz is humored to be bringing back a popular bad guy, and I can't imagine any other bad guy being considered popular, can you?
Oh yeah, and to anyone who has read my Once Bitten, Twice the Spy, the next chapter is over half way done, but I happened to read the start of this and decided to finish is first. Also I had this really mental dream with Alex in it a few nights back. I'm considering writing that up. But should I do it before or after I finish the next chapter of OBTS?
Nice reviews would be lovely by the way :3
What emotions did this make you feel? (apart from angry, annoyed, etc)