Hi everyone! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and whatever else your family celebrates at this time of year!
So my prompt for the holiday fic exchange is "It's a day to honor those who serve but some will never get that recognition. Veteran's Day is different when you're a spy."
To the person who requested this, I really hope it doesn't disappoint.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the wonderful Anthony Horowitz.
Enjoy!
The warehouse was an enormous maze filled with twisted corridors and dead ends. It was a true labyrinth that was worthy of Daedalus' architectural talents. And the first day Alex was there, he got hopelessly lost.
The three and a half weeks Alex had worked undercover there had changed that. He knew every twist, turn, room, entrance, and exit. He had left nothing to chance. And now, the day had finally come.
After Jack Starbright's murder, Alex had done his best to live a normal life. Yet, life with the Pleasures didn't work for him. He was a foreigner in the country and he often felt out of place. The strange feeling followed his every step until he was forced to leave. America was nice. The Pleasures did everything they can to make him happy but it wasn't his home. The Pleasures weren't his family. It had broken their hearts when he told them of his decision, yet they respected and understood him and helped him make his way back to Britain.
Things had infinitely improved since the last time he was there. He had gained many of his friends. Of course, the school bullies were still there, as annoying and as rude as ever. But that wasn't a problem really. He had faced worse people.
Alex had caught up with the rest of his class and just as things were looking up, Fate intervened.
As he was walking home from school, a dozen or so men, clad in black gear, quietly ambushed him in a deserted street. He had fought with all his might but the attack was unexpected and he was vastly outnumbered.
As it turned out, those men were a bunch of Blunt's minions. A horrible situation had arisen and MI6 needed his help.
The prime minister's son had been kidnapped and held as ransom by a reformed Scorpia. The terrorist organization had given the prime minister a list of ridiculous and impossible demands, among them was the surrendering of the nation's money. The prime minister had been in a state of panic upon returning home and finding his unconscious wife on the ground and his missing son. He called the help of Blunt who, having dealt with Scorpia before, agreed to help.
And that was where Alex came in. Scorpia was expecting a spy and were thoroughly searching everyone's background. Alex had refused when Blunt asked him to help. His bargaining chip was gone and Alex had turned hostile very quickly. But that mattered little to Blunt. The threat of hurting Tom Harris and James Hale had Alex backtracking quickly and readily accepting the mission. Blunt tried to reassure him with "it's an easy job, really." and "it should be a walk in the park for you." Alex knew better. He knew things weren't so simple.
And he was right.
Things had gone downhill. Fast.
His job sounded simple enough.
A new identity and background were created for him. Scorpia needed workers. So when a batch of potential employees made their way there, Alex slipped in with the crowd. He made a great impression and was hired immediately. He, along with a couple others, guarded the cells, cleaned the place, and fed the prisoners, aka, the prime minister's son.
As was customary, security was tightened with the arrival of the workers. They had checked very carefully into everyone's lives but they weren't going to leave anything to chance. Being over cautious never hurt anyone. So for the first few weeks, Alex spent his time memorizing every nook and cranny. And most importantly, he located the cell the prime minister's son was held.
It was after the third week that things began to turn horrible.
Alex had been fitted with the same braces he had used when he first encountered Scorpia. A simple click transmitted a signal to MI6's headquarters. The phone was normal, with a couple of special apps and functions. The apps opened up normal games when clicked on by a stranger but only his fingerprint allowed him to send images and talk to Smithers. Alex regularly updated Smithers with the going ons. The braces were only to be used when Alex was sure that he knew the place well enough to organize a rescue. By the third week, he was ready.
He had sent Smithers the blueprints of the warehouse and provided all necessary information. It was too risky to leave the warehouse and meet with Blunt so Alex relied on the specially designed phone from Smithers.
Unknown to Alex, someone from Scorpia was beginning to get suspicious. They kept a close eye on him and, with some digging, managed to uncover the truth.
They captured Alex, held him at gunpoint, and asked him very politely to tell them what he knew.
Alex denied everything, acting confused. But these men were trained assassins. They were clever and dangerous. Alex made a mistake of taking them as fools.
Thy tossed him in a cell and a day later, began torturing him. Whip after whip. Shock after shock. Water after water. Soon, Alex had begun to accept that he was going to die.
But they had done something strange one day. Instead of taking him to the "torture chamber" as Alex had dubbed it, they had thrown him in the same cell as the prime minister's son.
And this was how Alex had found himself in his present situation.
.
.
Aiden had been so scared when the bad men broke down the door and hurt his mommy. He tried to run away but the men were fast. They tied him up and took him to the stupid place he was in now!
He was there for so long and he just wanted to see his mommy and daddy again. He wanted to play with them and eat ice cream and listen to them read him bedtime stories. But the bad man said he wouldn't see them again. Aiden had cried every day because of that. He didn't even get to tell them that he loved them lots and lots.
Then one day, Aiden heard a lot of yelling. And it got louder and louder and closer and closer. Then he heard a loud gunshot like the ones he heard on tv. He was so scared. He crawled to the corner furthest away from the door and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. All that could be seen was his terror filled eyes, staring apprehensively at the door. After minutes of silence, he began to relax.
Suddenly, the door slammed open with so much force, it hit the wall and bounced back. He yelled in fear and curled into a tight ball. A body was thrown in and he pressed himself back, trying to just melt into the wall.
The bad man stepped in and sneered at him.
"Have fun kid."
.
.
Alex fought against the man's iron grip but his struggles were futile. He might've been able to escape if he had his full strength. But as it was, Alex was incredibly weak. The torture had left him exhausted and hungry. His body was a battlefield of scars. His clothes were tattered. He was broken, bloody, and bruised.
However, any struggle was annoying to the guard. He aimed his gun at Alex and pulled the trigger. Alex's reaction time was a lot slower and he only managed to move two inches to the side. But it was enough. The bullet grazed his arm instead of embedding itself in his arm. The small movement may have saved his life but the excruciating pain still sent the ground rushing up to meet him. Alex never heard the door slam open or a child's terrified yell. He never felt himself being tossed in like a sack of potatoes.
.
Once he had finally gathered up his courage, Aiden went over to the body and poked and prodded, hoping to elicit a response. The boy looked like just that, a boy. He hoped he was nice. It had been so long since he talked to someone nice.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the long unconscious form began to gain consciousness.
A groan alerted Aiden and he moved away, suddenly scared. He watched as the young man slowly opened his eyes and pushed himself in a sitting position.
Alex tried to stand up but he was in the middle of the cell and had no wall to hold on to for support, thus causing him to crash down a moment after he stood.
Aiden hesitated but shook his head and walked over to the man.
"H..Hi," he said shyly. Alex turned to look at him and Aiden flinched at the look he was given and took a couple of steps back.
"Wait, no, I'm sorry! Come here kiddo." Alex said softly.
The boy shuffled closer yet his eyes looked guarded.
"What's your name?" Alex asked.
They boy backed up. "Mommy told me not to talk to strangers."
Alex laughed. A genuine laugh that made him feel a little more relaxed.
"I'm sure she did. But I think it's okay if we're both stuck here." Mild amusement sparkled in Alex's eyes.
The boy still looked skeptical.
"How about this? I'll tell you my name and you tell me yours, okay? My names Alex."
The words spilled out of the boy's mouth before he could stop them.
"My name is Aiden and I'm four years old but I'll be five real soon." Realizing what he's done, his eyes widened and he put his hand over his mouth.
"You tricked me!" He accused.
"Tricked you?" Alex asked, a smile gracing his features. "I didn't trick you."
Aiden crossed his arms. Alex chuckled. The boy grinned, delighted to have made Alex laugh and he sat down next to him.
"Did the evil men give you all those cuts? Aiden asked.
"Yeah. But I'll be fine." His words sounded fake even to his own ears. He was bloody, exhausted, and in a world of pain. But he tried to keep it together for the child with him.
Alex shuffled backward towards the closest wall, but his hands burned when they came into contact with the cold, filthy ground. Each movement caused him to grimace in pain. Aiden wanted to help but he didn't want to hurt his new friend.
After the painstaking journey, Alex closed his eyes in temporary relief. When he opened them again and didn't immediately see Aiden, he panicked.
"Aiden?!" He called out.
"I'm right here." A tiny voice replied. "Here you go."
He held out a water bottle for Alex. "The bad man gave me this and you can use it to clean your arm."
The tension left Alex's shoulders. He really was touched by the boy's kindness.
He looked around the cell for a cloth or something to tie his arm with. Now that he's taken a proper look around him, he realized how small the cell was. It was about 7 paces long and across. It was extremely dirty and had small toilet in one corner and a small cot in another. It was what was on top of the cot that caught Alex's attention.
"Aiden, get me that rag that's on the cot." He ordered.
"Pour the water all over the blood." Alex ordered.
Aiden opened the cap and just spilled the water all over him. Alex knew that that wasn't the way to clean the wound but the intense pain he was in wouldn't allow for a proper cleanup.
Tying the rag with one hand was a little difficult but with Aiden's help, he managed to tie it into a tight knot.
Finally, with that task done, he flicked the switch in his braces again and leaned back, Aiden resting beside him, and hoped to God that someone would come. Because he was in no position to do anything.
.
.
Alex's prayers were answered a day later (according to his internal clock).
Alex had no idea what had gone down behind the four walls of the cell, but when the door burst open and MI6 agents poured in, Alex sprung up with immense relief and swooped Aiden into his arms, the lingering pain vanishing in the sudden chaos.
Alex realized with a jolt that the agent in charge was none other than Fox aka Ben Daniels.
"Lucas! The kid! After me!" Ben yelled out to a fair haired agent. The man, Lucas, grabbed Aiden from Alex's arms and a moment later, Alex felt himself being lifted into Ben's arms.
"You three!" Ben called out to the other guards. "Cover us. The rest of you help the soldiers. Let's move out!"
The rest of the journey was a blur to Alex. All he heard were yells and gunshots and thuds as bodies hit the ground. But when they broke through the barrier trapping them in the nightmarish building and into the cool, crisp air outside, Alex was aware of everything with sudden clarity.
Ben ran to a nondescript, MI6 sanctioned car and strapped Alex in the passenger seat and Aiden in the backseat. All around, the fight was still raging on, but
"Hey there Ben. Thanks for the help." Alex nodded appreciatively.
Ben clicked his tongue. "No problem. Looks like the first stop is the hospital."
Alex grinned. "We have to stop meeting like this."
Ben chuckled and turned around to face Aiden.
"And who is this adorable child?" He asked. He knew who he was of course. He was just making small talk.
Aiden blushed, suddenly shy.
"Prime minister's son." Alex replied.
"Ah," Ben said. A concerned look overcame his features. "Those cuts look nasty. How did you get them?"
Alex whipped his head around so fast, he got a crick in his neck. He hadn't noticed any cuts. But in all honesty, he hadn't been focusing on Aiden's appearance.
Sure enough, cuts littered Aiden's arms and legs. He had a nasty bruise on one cheek and he was covered in dirt. Alex suddenly felt self conscious. He must look a mess. When was the last time he had taken a shower? At least two weeks ago.
"Daddy always tells me to scream and fight if a stranger tries to take me away. So I did that but there was a lot of bad men and they… they slapped me and hurt me and I was crying lots and lots but they wouldn't stop and I was bleeding but they didn't care and, and, and…" Aiden burst into tears.
"I want my daddy!" He sobbed, bringing his knees up to his chest.
A cold bubble of fury popped inside of Alex. How can anyone be so cruel?
Alex reached out and ran his hand through Aiden's golden locks. "Hey kiddo. Everything's going to be okay now," he murmured comfortingly.
Aiden covered his face with his hands and sobbed. "I- I'm s-s-scared. I want to g-go ho-ome." His voice shook and he curled up into a ball.
Ben and Alex exchanged a look and Alex bit his lip.
"How about we call your daddy?" Ben suggested. "Would you like that?"
Aiden looked up and sniffled. "Yes please." His eyes were puffy and red and though he was crying, he looked adorable.
Alex reached out and wiped away a tear with his thumb. "Don't cry now. We'll make sure no one will hurt you again."
Aiden sniffled again but didn't reply.
Ben dialed a number on his phone and handed it to Aiden. The prime minister picked up on the second ring.
"Hello," he said, his voice stressed and frustrated.
"Daddy?" Aiden whispered.
Silence fell for a brief moment before absolute chaos erupted at the other end. Ben and Alex smiled. Everything would be fine.
"How'd you get the prime minister's number?" Alex asked as Ben drove away.
"Well, Blunt and Jones thought Aiden might want to speak to his father." He winked.
Alex smiled. "He's so sweet. I can't believe anyone would hurt him."
Ben's smile fell. "This world is filled with cruel, greedy, selfish, and wicked people."
Alex leaned his head against the window. "I know. I've met a lot of those people."
Ben stopped at a traffic light and turned to face Alex.
"You know Alex, I really worry about you sometimes." He admitted. "I know you're a spy and you're capable of taking care of yourself, but this whole thing puts a bitter taste in my mouth. I don't like it. A child shouldn't be a spy."
Alex looked at the sad expression on his face. "I'm fine though. No need to worry about me."
"I'm sure," Ben said dryly, looking pointedly at his wounded arm.
Alex rolled his eyes. He finally noticed the silence in the backseat and turned around, a question dying on his lips at the scene in front of him.
Aiden was leaning against the door, fast asleep. Ben's cell phone lay on his lap. Alex took the phone and gave it back to Ben.
"There's a blanket in the pouch behind your seat." Ben told him.
Alex took the blanket and tucked him in.
Ben smiled at the scene.
Alex's mind settled into a calm and peaceful state. It felt good to know that he had helped someone
Ben reached over and took Alex's hand.
"Good job Alex," he said.
Alex smiled and squeezed his hand. He had never felt so good after a mission.
.
.
Two weeks in a hospital was torture. Pure torture. Alex hated it the moment he stepped in and the cool antiseptic smell hit him. He hated the pale bedsheets that matched the pale walls. He hated the food, the doctors, and the sick people.
He squirmed on the hospital bed that he's been stuck in for a week. He was back in St. Dominic's. Back in room nine to be exact. It seems that they've reserved that room for him.
A young nurse knocked twice on his open door and stuck her head in. Her name was Diana Meacher. She had also taken care of him when he was shot in the chest in front of MI6 headquarters.
"Oh good. You're awake." She stepped into his room and checked the monitors.
"When can I go home?" Alex asked, desperate to escape the confines of the bed.
"Well, you had multiple burns and lacerations. You were malnourished and dehydrated. Rest and food will take care of that. We've stitched up the worst of the laceration, but it seems that they've opened again." She gave him a very pointed look.
Alex had the decency to blush. "Sorry, but they itch like hell."
Meacher smiled. "Understandable. But we will need to restitch them. Once they can be taken out, you may leave."
"And how long will that take?" He asked.
"A week or two at most."
Alex sighed. There was no way in hell he'd spend two more weeks at the hospital.
"Okay. How is Aiden?" This became customary. Whenever a nurse came to check on him, he'd always ask about Aiden. The reply was always the same - he suffered many cuts and bruises but nothing too dangerous. He'd be fine. Today, the reply was a little different though.
"He was given the all clear this morning. His father took him home."
Alex was disappointed. He was glad Aiden could finally go home but he really wanted to say goodbye to the kid.
"He left you something." The nurse left the room and came back with a card drawn by him and a box of chocolates.
Alex grinned when she handed him the chocolate. It certainly cheered him up. The card had a drawing of two figures. One carrying the other in his arms and running out of the building.
The meaning was as clear as day. And the picture most definitely did not make Alex's eyes water.
.
.
He was nothing more than a shadow hiding in the corner of the walls. The nurses were done with their shift and they were leaving. He smiled. He would need to be quick.
He ran down the hall, his feet making no sound against the hospital's smooth floor. He padded down the stairs. The elevator would be quicker but he couldn't risk making any noise.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the silence.
Footsteps. Sound came from heels. A lady was approaching.
His mind supplied him with the extra info even as he slipped into a small broom closet nearby. He crouched, ready to spring if the door was suddenly opened.
There was no reason to worry though. The footsteps became louder and louder and then began to fade away as the figure moved further down the hall.
A door opened. Few seconds of silence. Then it shut closed, a solid barrier between the sounds of footsteps and the teen's ears.
He didn't waste a moment. He slipped out and ran to his door of freedom.
The cool night breeze washed over him. He smiled.
Alex Rider finally escaped the hospital's claustrophobic clutches.
.
.
As soon as Tom Harris heard Alex was back, he immediately went to his house and climbed through his window, James Hale at his heels.
Alex jumped at the loud thump Tom and James made when their feet came in contact with the floor.
The guarded look on Alex's face disappeared.
"Startled me mate. How are you two?" Alex asked, settling back into the couch.
Tom crossed his arms. "How am I? How about how are you? You're the one who was gone for three weeks. Yeah Alex. You were gone for three freaking weeks. Would it have killed you to call and tell me you were going to be gone? At least so I can come up with an excuse to tell the teachers?"
James hesitated, not knowing whether to leave or stay. He knew Alex wasn't really sick all those times he was gone but he didn't know what he was doing. And as much as he wanted to find out, he wanted Alex to tell him when he trusted him not because Tom was too angry to care whether anyone heard.
"Sorry mate. It was kind of unexpected." Alex looked sheepish. He gestured for him to sit down and Tom dropped onto the floor in front of him, still looking pissed. Noticing James stepping back, Alex patted the seat next to him.
"It's fine James. Sit down." Alex smiled reassuringly. He trusted James. And he didn't want to lie to him anymore.
"I'm really sorry guys. It really was unexpected and, Tom, don't give me the look, sheesh, let me explain." He said, exasperated.
"I didn't want to go. I refused and shut the phone in their faces. The nest day, when I was walking home from school, about a dozen agents captured me and manhandled me out of there."
"But, and I'm sorry about this, Jack is dead. They can't blackmail you with anything now, right?" Tom asked, doubting his own words.
James' heart skipped a beat. Someone was blackmailing Alex. He stood as still as a statue, afraid to make a sound lest they decided he wasn't trustworthy enough. Apparently though, Alex trusted him with this. And the squeeze on the arm Alex give him proved that.
Alex wasn't sure if he should tell them this. Tom noticed his hesitation.
"Tell me!" he demanded.
Alex sighed. "They said they'd hurt you and James."
The two boys froze.
"Don't worry. They won't. I'll make sure of that." Alex went for a reassuring smile but by the sudden stiffness both teens displayed, he had failed.
"Do you mean, like, physically hurt us?" James finally spoke, a little scared.
Alex sighed, a world weary expression on his face. "I don't know guys and it doesn't much matter. If I do what they want, they'll have no reason to hurt you. I promise I won't let come near you. Trust me on this."
"That isn't reassuring." James finally got his courage back and he was angry. Someone was blackmailing his best friend and hurting him.
Alex looked at him and James swung around to face him, sitting next to Tom.
"I don't know what the hell you've been doing or who the hell you're talking about but whoever they are, they're hurting you. Physically hurting you."
Tom interrupted, his arms crossed. "They've been hurting him mentally too."
James sighed. "Alex, I don't want you to get hurt for me. I can't speak for Tom…"
"I agree though."
"Well there we go," James continued. "We don't you getting hurt for us. Let them do what they want to do them we can tell the police or someone. It's obviously illegal."
"It's not that simple James. I guess I should tell you who "they" are." Alex paused, not sure how to word it but not wanting to explain everything.
"After my uncle died, I discovered he was working with Military Intelligence Sector Six. He wasn't a banker like I thought. And because he had raised me like a spy -knowing how to fight, analyze situations calmly, look for details, and that sort of stuff - the head of MI6 wanted me to finish my uncle's job. When I refused, they threatened to deport Jack and toss me into an unpleasant orphanage. So now, I am, for lack of a better word, a spy."
James was speechless. Utterly speechless. He knew something was up but he never would've guessed this. He believed Alex of course. It actually made sense. The cuts and bruises, the haunted look in his face, and the pain filled eyes that darted around a place and took everything in. However, it was still an enormous blow.
James didn't know what to say. "I..you… I'm sorry Alex."
"You have nothing to be sorry for."
"How many missions have you been on?"
Alex thought about it. "Nine. The first one was the Stormbreaker computers. Remember the guy that parachuted through the science museum and shot the prime minister? Yeah, that was me. The last mission was the worst. Jack was killed in that one. So to answer your question, it doesn't matter whether it's illegal or not, because they are the law."
Alex narrowed his eyes at James, thinking thoughtfully. James hated the look. He often felt like Alex was staring through him. Like a bug under a microscope.
"What?" He asked, squirming.
"Don't you think it's cool?" Alex asked. "Being a spy, I mean. You get to go around, save the world, be like James Bond."
James' eyebrows nearly flew off his face. "Oh sure. Get kidnapped, tortured, shot, watch your best friend dying from the heartless megalomaniacs that forced him on the missions. What can be better?" His words dripped sarcasm.
Tom shrugged. "I thought it was cool when he first told me. Not anymore."
Alex smiled, remembering the times Tom would jump up and down in excitement whenever he came back from a mission.
"I would still rather get hurt than let them hurt you more than they already did." James said.
"Appreciated James. But I don't think I can live with myself if they hurt any one of you guys." Alex messed up his hair in a rare moment of affection.
"How'd you get all those cuts anyway? And what happened to your arm? You like like absolute shit." Tom commented in his typical style.
Alex rolled his eyes. "Thanks. And uh, they might've been from the torture. And the arm was from a bullet. It kinda grazed my arm. Still hurts like hell though." Alex lifted his arm, wrapped with a cast.
"You were tortured?" Tom asked in a feeble voice.
"It was only for a couple of days. I'm still in one piece." He said, trying to downplay it.
Tom and James narrowed their eyes at him.
"Alex."
Perfectly synchronized and the surprise made Alex lean away from them. They were clearly not amused.
"Look you guys. It doesn't matter anymore. What happened happened. Let the past stay there." Alex pleaded.
"I still have a lot of questions," James told him.
"Some other time James." Alex replied. "Let's just talk about something else. Like, um, what are you guys doing here? It's one o'clock on a Friday. Shouldn't you guys be at school?"
"Nope," James' eyes were still narrowed. "It's Veteran's Day."
"Happy Veteran's Day Al." Tom added.
"Right. Thanks, I guess." Alex squirmed. He knew he was a veteran but it was still strange for someone else to consider him as such.
Tom sat next to Alex on the sofa and put up his feet on the coffee table. He flipped through the channels, settling on the news. Following his lead, Alex and James settled in comfortably.
"The courage and determination Elliot Cross displayed in this daring rescue saved the life of young Aiden Wood." A reporter announced.
Alex's mind turned to mush.
On the screen was a picture of a soldier, presumably Elliot Cross, holding up a medal that the prime minister gave him.
Aiden was holding his father's hand and looking absolutely, but understandably, confused.
A seed of anger in Alex grew into a forest of rage. He unleashed his fury and directed it at the tv. Without a second thought, he jumped up, ignoring his friends' shocked expressions, and smashed the television with his fist.
The screen went black and little pieces of glass fell onto the carpet.
Alex sat back down, breathing heavily. His fist was bloody but he barely noticed. He was desperately trying to calm down before he destroyed the house.
Apart from Alex's labored breathing, all was silent in the house.
Alex felt a cool wetness on his hand and looked up. Tom glanced at him but went back to cleaning the blood.
"I'm sorry," he said in a feeble voice. Nobody replied, but he felt he needed to explain anyway.
"The mission I just came back from. That was it. I was supposed to save the prime minister's son. I'm sorry. I knew I wasn't going to get credit. Big blow to see it on tv."
Alex leaned back and closed his eyes. His friends watched a wealth of emotions flit across his face. Anger. Resentment. Sorrow. Acceptance. And finally, resignation.
Alex didn't know why he was surprised. He knew he never got any credit for any of the missions. But he had felt so good after that mission. And for once, he saw how him being tortured led to someone being saved. He saw the effect. And it gave him a happy, bubbly feeling in his chest.
It broke his heart. It broke his heart and shred every bit of happiness in him to see someone else getting credit for saving young Aiden.
Alex smiled wryly. Today was Veteran's Day. It was a day to honor those who serve, but some will never get that recognition. Veteran's Day was different when you were a spy. More so when you were an illegal child spy.
Alex sighed. He would never be loved or appreciated. He would die in a cold, filthy cell. He would die by the hands of his enemies. At least it would be quick. Blunt and Jones were doing it slowly, torturously. With every mission he was forced to go on, a little bit of him died.
Blunt was to blame for all the sorrow in his life. He had tortured him. And blackmailed him. And killed off his parents. And killed off Ian. And killed off Jack. And let Ash betray him. He had ripped out the soul of a lively fourteen year old child and replaced it with the tainted soul of a dreary automaton. He was a killer.
Alex would never be honored for all he's done. For all the times he had saved the world.
Alex's shoulders slumped in defeat. The spy mask he always carried around fell.
A single tear made its way down his pale cheek. Why was he surprised?
"It's all part of the job." He thought bitterly.
And fin!
Night Riders