A/N - Full Summary: What happens when Alex's latest brush with death ends up hitting a little too close to home? When Scorpia attack his school, Alex finds his two lives falling apart around him. He has to rely upon old friends, and even old enemies, to keep his school safe and rescue his best friend. Soon Alex finds himself being shipped back off to Brecon Beacons for more training, only he's not going alone. He's bringing his whole class with him. In an adventure filled with pain, hurt and confusion, the life of MI6's youngest spy goes from bad to worse as time, and luck, slowly run out for the infamous Alex Rider. Set three years and three weeks after Crocodile Tears (Roughly). Rated M, mainly for the use of language, violence, torture and sexual occurrences. SLASH.
Extra information: Alex is aged 18, so therefore ANY of the Slash pairings that are possible will not break any laws etc. Wolf is 28, Snake is 31, Eagle is 24, Fox is 26, Cheetah is 24 and Yassen is 32. Jack is already dead in this fic, 'cause I basically find her a little annoying, no offense to any Jack lovers out there *^.^'*. If you do read the following rambling chapter and like it, please, please, please! Review! I'd even appreciate flames etc... Wait; did I really just say that? Never mind. Anyway, if and when you do review (I'll hunt you down with my amazing ninja skills otherwise Hwah!) I would really like an opinion on who you would like to see Alex eventually end up with. The options are AlexXWolf, AlexXYassen, AlexXEagle, or AlexXFox. (If there is a massive tie or not enough votes, I'll either resort to writing a version for each pairing, or just picking one at random, which will annoy me greatly: P)There will be no TomXAlex pairing, due to some plot twists I'm shoving in for good measure: P Anyways, onto the disclaimer.
Disclaimer: Me: As much as this pains me to say this, no, I do not own Alex, the hot teenage spy, nor do I own the adorable K-Unit, or the sexy Yassen. I don't really own anyone mentioned that are also mentioned in the books. Any OC's you hear/see are mine, so n'ya, take that Anthony Horowitz! I'll get Alex eventually.
Alex: Does anyone else see a raving fan-girl rambling on about illegally possessing us? Or is it just me? *K-Unit nod, Yassen raises an eyebrow in that annoying way he does* Okay, good, I thought I was losing it for a second there.
(This is a re-edit of the first Chapter, sorry to annoy any of you! There were some problems which I admit to and apologise for to the affected party. Thank you for being patient and re-reading (if you are indeed re-reading) this Chapter!)
-AR-
Chapter one (Expulsion or Blackmail?)
The large canopy of the Peruvian forest around the grounds made prefect cover as a figure, clad in green camouflage limped and stumbled its way across the darkening compound. The man, or rather, the boy paused as a pair of guards passed, guns hung loosely at their hips. Large mastiffs followed silently beside their masters, noses eagerly sniffing the air. The figure held his breath, silently praying the dogs wouldn't be able to smell him, what with the dense undergrowth that surrounded him. He let out a sigh of relief, watching as they made their way round a corner, and moved on, making his way towards the cliff edge. Alex Rider, eighteen year old MI6 agent, tapped his ear-piece, immediately opening up a comm.-link to his partner.
"Ben? Ben, if you can hear me, get your ass over here pronto."
Alex glanced around, but so far, his escape seemed to have gone unnoticed. It wouldn't be long now, Dr. Three's top apprentice would be returning soon for Alex's next round of torture. The boy shuddered lightly, and turned back to face the sheer drop before him. He jumped a little when the communicator buzzed and he heard Ben's reply, "Alex? Thank God you're okay kid. I'm on my way; give me about a minute, what's your current position?" Alex struggled to think, which side of the compound was he on again? Thinking was becoming difficult, but severe blood loss would do that to you.
"I'd say about two klicks from the main compound, north East, at the cliff edge."
His left side was beginning to go numb, and standing on his mangled foot didn't help matters. The cuts and burns that littered his body stung as the wind picked up and blew through his shredded tee. Alex tried to quieten his laboured breathing, straining to hear the low thrum of a helicopter motor. A few seconds later, the military issue copter emerged from below the cliff edge and Alex yanked open the heavy steel door. He hauled himself jerkily into the small cargo bay, coughing as his chest throbbed with a painful intensity. He slumped back onto the boxes and sheets that littered the floor and focused on breathing for a few seconds. His golden hair, now limp and bloodied from weeks without a proper wash, fell into his dark brown eyes, currently screwed up in pain.
When he realised they still weren't moving Alex lost what little patience he had, and hauled himself up a little and practically growled at the pilot, "For fuck's sake Ben, get us out of here! What are you waiting for, a fat lady to start singing?"
They didn't have time for hesitation; his captors would soon be after them. Flood lights suddenly came to life on the grounds, illuminating their helicopter perfectly against the night sky. He cursed silently, his luck always found a way of back-firing on him. The past three months had seen Alex locked in a small cell, fed only every two or three days and tortured at least twice a day for information in between. Scorpia never forgave, Scorpia never forgot. They'd been after him since that hot air balloon incident three years ago, which was understandable seeing as, at the age of fourteen, he'd dealt them a humiliating blow. The most recent bout of torture had been the worst, they'd obviously been getting bored by his lack of speech (or his irritating knack to come up with a witty response to anything), he'd been electrocuted, whipped until his back was severely lacerated and sore, and cutting until he felt ready to pass out from the blood loss. Alex was shaken from his flashback by a burst of gunfire, the bullets clanging against the helicopter's side, breaking the front wind-screen.
"Ben!"
His co-worker, Agent Ben Daniels, or as he was also known, Fox, merely grunted, turning the copter's heavy wheel and gunning the engine (1). The adrenaline pumping through his system could only last so long, and Alex could already see a darkness creeping across his vision. He had minutes left before he would pass out, and that would definitely be a bad thing. The teen fumbled for his watch, activating the hundreds of pounds of C4 he'd managed to plant before his capture. Through the fog that steadily surrounded his mind, Alex watched with a detached expression as the large compound behind their steadily retreating figures burst into flames with a resounding crack. Alex felt his eyes begin to close, his eye-lids becoming increasingly heavy as he tried to fight off unconsciousness. Yet another successful mission for the infamous Alex Rider... He managed to think before he finally gave up, and let the blackness claim him.
-AR-
Mr Grinn stood opposite him, knives twirling around his finger...Dr Greif as he explained his plan on dissection for his 'sons'... A great white shark, its eyes oily black and hungry lunging for him in the water... Damien Cray's face as he watched a man slowly suffocate and be crushed by thousands of quarters... Nile's face, lip curled with rage as he launched himself at him, sword swinging... Kaspar as he lunged for him in the Ark Angel, knife glinting in the fake light... flashes of blood, pain, moans and sobbing... Jack's pale face as he found her lifeless body in her bedroom, a single bullet shot to the head...
Alex sat up, crying out in pain, his breath coming in quick little gasps as his eyes quickly scanned the room for threats. The sterile white walls of a hospital stared back at him and he slumped back against the cot's pillows as his panic subsided. How paranoid am I? To let a bloody nightmare freak me out like that... They're getting worse... He made a move to sit himself up and hissed in pain, collapsing back onto the bedding. His back throbbed with every breath, and the still raw gouges and cuts that littered his body stung as he tried again, this time ignoring the pain through sheer determination. He tiredly rubbed a hand over his eyes and reached for his pain medication, popping a pill dry and then glancing around for his clothes. Before he could think about moving, though, the door clicked open and the woman he hated most in the world walked in.
"Good morning Alex, are we feeling any better?" Mrs' Jones, deputy head of MI6 asked around a peppermint. He gave her a withering look and pulled himself up and stiffly walked over to the only chair in the room and sat down.
"How do you bloody think I feel?" He snapped back, wincing as he bent to retrieve his tee and jeans from their position on the floor. The woman inclined her head at the comment, refraining from rising to his bait. She pulled a thin file from her purse and opened it, briefly scanning the pages as if to remind herself of their contents, even though Alex knew that she remembered every detail perfectly.
"Well, Mr. Blunt would like you to report to HQ as soon as you are discharged, which is whenever you feel ready to leave, he is aware of this fact and any attempt to delay the meeting will be in vain. The doctor has said that, given a week or so, your injuries will have healed completely, and he is prescribing you the usual medication and has advised you to stay away from P.E in school for the next few weeks, in order to allow time for your body to properly heal itself. We would like you to come in for debriefing as soon as possible. Agent Daniels, I'm afraid, is still in hospital, but I managed to draft a rough summary of his side of the mission, which we will, of course, update and modify, once checked against yours."
Alex snorted a little, pulling his tee over his head slowly, careful to avoid causing himself more pain, and then frowned, wondering how and when Ben managed to get injured. Dimly he remembered the copter flight back; through his half delirious mind-set he'd seen the blood on Ben's face and the tightness around the man's eye as he struggled to hide the pain. The man had been shot by one of Scorpia's stray bullets. He reverently hoped Ben would pull through. He was the only man, apart from Smithers, in his MI6 life that he really got along with.
"Is that all for now Mrs. Jones? 'Cause I'd really like to get dressed and get the hell out of this place." He sent her a pointed glare, and then looked at his jeans and apparent lack of clothing. The woman didn't even look embarrassed, and he dimly recalled that she had a son or two at home, so therefore found nothing in the room remotely embarrassing, and she nodded in confirmation to his question. She turned on her ridiculously high heels and stepped out of his room, closing the door behind her with an almost silent click.
Alex sighed, and then hissed, as he pulled on his black jeans and trainers, the motion of bending over stretching his still healing whip marks. He hoped none of them re-opened, or started bleeding again, this was his favourite tee. He picked up his small backpack from the table and left quietly, walking straight past the front desk and out into the fresh air.
He glanced around and felt slightly disappointed, but not surprised, that MI6 had not sent a car to pick him up.
He shook his head and hailed down a cab, sliding in and slamming the door behind him. He looked up at the cabbie and gave the address for the Royal and General Bank in East London, he may as well get the debriefing over with, and then sat back and watched the city roll by as the car made its steady way through the busy London traffic. Ever since he'd come home from the mission in Peru, Alex had been attacked with thoughts of Jack's death, among other things, and he again wished that this whole mess with MI6 had never happened. Caught up in his own thoughts, Alex didn't realise they were there until the cabbie impatiently cleared his throat and held out a hand for the twenty pound fare.
Grumbling, Alex climbed out after handing over the only money he had on him, shooting the cab a last glare, before turning and heading into the MI6 Head Quarters, home of every person (minus Scorpia, Ben and Smithers) that he hated in the world. The receptionist greeted him cheerfully, obviously new, anyone who'd been in this line of work soon gave up any attempts at keeping actual human emotions, and directed him to the special elevator for Agents only, and Alex sighed, resting tiredly against the back wall. If only his life wasn't so complicated. The doors opened with a quiet ding, and Alex stepped out, nodding to a few of the passing Agents that recognised him, and headed for the HQ Head office.
"Why Agent Rider, so pleasant to see you again." An emotionless voice said, almost as emotionless as the man that voice belonged to, as he entered the large office. Behind the stupidly large, and surprisingly neat, desk sat Alan Blunt, Head of MI6, an aging man with grey hair, grey eyes, and was usually seen in all grey clothes, including, so he was told, grey underwear. Perched on the desk beside him was Mrs. Jones, dressed in the same suit and skirt he'd seen her in earlier, holding the file from Ben loosely in her hands. He eyed it warily before nodding to Mr. Blunt and seating himself in the only chair before the desk.
"Now Alex, we've already had a short talk with you about the mission, but obviously we need you to submit a full report. Now tell us, how did the mission fare with you?" Alex barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. The mission went like every other bloody mission they'd sent him on since he turned 16 and Jack had died. He'd come back, bruised and broken, but alive, successful and sane from his near death experiences. He settled upon a brief, but detailed recount of his recent success, starting with his and Agent Daniels' extensive week of surveillance they carried out before his capture, the extent of his gained knowledge on the organisation whilst being tortured (Of course, he left no gruesome detail out when that part came up) and finally his escape and the destruction of the Peruvian sector of Scorpia.
"Thank you Alex, now, if you would please take this file concerning an upcoming mission that may, or may not, actually concern you, and then you may leave." Knowing an obvious dismissal when he heard one, Alex took the file, slipping it into his backpack, and left the office, leaving behind the grey Alan Blunt and his peppermint sucking fiend, I mean, friend. While waiting for an arranged car to drive him home, Alex quickly skimmed the report, rolling his eyes when he found it to be a routine drug busting mission. He really hated those; they were the most irritating and by far the easiest type to be sent on, which made him grind his teeth. If their using him for missions like this, why the hell was he sent on Scorpia related ones? A man tapped him lightly on the shoulder, dressed in the black and white suit Alex now registered automatically as 'MI6 Agent' and stood, following him to the, as usual, black car that waited outside, climbed in, and took a short nap as he waited for them to reach the rather empty and lonely home in Chelsea.
-AR-
The next morning, Alex's alarm went off at five thirty, and the teen rolled out of bed, heading straight for the bathroom for his daily shower. Alex's line of work had trained him to sleep lightly, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, and conditioned him to perform in top form with little or no sleep, which was something that came in handy on several of his more dangerous and long-term missions. He turned the water to its hottest temperature, restraining the wince as the water came into contact with his freshly applied bandages, and let his muscles relax under the powerful jets, before stepping out and roughly towel drying his hair. He yanked on his usual attire, a light, bullet proof vest, a black tee, cargo pants and combat boots. Pushing stray strands of hair from his eyes, Alex retrieved his knives and gun from the top drawer and fastened them to his holders. One wrapped snugly around his left calf, twin holders on his back, and a simple chest strap for his gun, all under his clothes, undetectable, even by the trained eye, of course. His clearance only licensed him to carry concealed after all. Tugging on his dark blue windbreaker, strapped his MI6 issue watch to his left wrist, and fished his keys out of the bowl by the door, grabbing an apple from the kitchen along the way. As he stepped out into the warm spring air, Alex inhaled deeply, enjoying the warm currents of air moving lazily around him, stirring his fair locks lightly.
"Wow, it's actually sunny... and I'm still in England." Alex chuckled to himself as he slipped into his kitted out Jeep Wrangler, sports edition (2). He quickly stowed the ammunition he kept in his car into the various pockets and holders on his person, and checked his iPhone for any messages. Of course, there were the usual from Sabina, asking how he was, and how she missed him in America, and even one from Ben, who'd thought to tell Alex he was fine and recovering well. The messages from Tom on the other hand were downright hilarious. The teen sat in his car, laughing (a rarity for the troubled teen) for a solid two minutes, before calming, and starting the ignition. He pulled out of the drive and made his way slowly to his school.
Brookland Comprehensive School was like most others in London, apart from a certain special student, with large grounds, blocky and frankly ugly buildings and of course, kids. Lots of kids. Luckily, it was the first day of term after Spring break, so none of the students paid him any mind as he parked in his usual spot, throwing on a pair of sunglasses as he opened the door. He tried to block out the mindless gossip of those around him as he quickly assessed the crowded tarmac for any possible threats. He rolled his eyes as he, rather unintentionally, overheard a conversation about what certain group of girls had done over the holidays (or in some cases, who they'd done). He shook his head, trying to shake the disturbing mental images that assaulted his mind, and Alex made for the main entrance. He was almost there when an arm wrapped around his shoulders and he felt himself being pulled down to face a grinning, black haired and blue eyed teen. Smirking very faintly, Alex removed his sunglasses and slipped them into a pocket before answering the excited teen next to him.
"Glad to see at least one person missed me over the holidays" Alex's voice dripped heavily with sarcasm, but Tom Harris merely chuckled at his friend and planted a quick, but firm kiss (3) to Alex's lips, which Alex happily returned, before rolling his eyes and replying cheerfully, "Well, someone obviously ninja rolled out of the wrong side of the bed this morning." Tom's eyes twinkled with mischief as Alex sighed and shook his head, deciding to refrain from answering the childish comment.
They manoeuvred their way through the increasingly crowded corridors, and made it to their shared homeroom with little over a minute to spare, but their teacher was always late anyway, so they needn't have worried. Tom released his hold on Alex as they sat next to each other at the back, but he did lift his legs to place them in Alex's lap with a sly grin. Alex raised an eyebrow, but didn't move to remove the legs, instead turning to catch, and then ignore, the pointed stares and whispered conversations that were obviously aimed at him.
As everyone slowly settled down, and the homeroom bell sounded, Alex found himself already bored with the whole novelty that meant school, wishing the day would just hurry up and end already. Whispers started around the room once the teacher had entered, taking a quick, and rather useless, head count, before, once again, Alex felt himself become the centre of all the stares and comments.
"Hey look Jess, Druggie's back, sitting with that freaky kid Harris again. Wonder what he did this time, maybe went to jail"
"OMG it's that freak, why doesn't he just stay home?"
"Maybe he can't, because he has no home, well, at least, no home since he killed that guardian of his."
Alex felt his fists clench of their own accord as he struggled to keep his emotions in check, and ignore the insensitive gossip. Tom put a comforting hand on Alex's arm, in a soothing manner, and he soon felt relaxed again, turning to give his friend a grateful smile.
First Advanced Maths and then Spanish class passed without any incident, mainly because they were Alex's favourite subjects and both teachers adored him for his natural grasp of the subjects. Alex was given the work he needed to catch up on, which he managed during the half hour free time he had between lunch and morning lessons, though the constant stares were starting to get annoying again. By the time lunch came around, he was ready to snap, he'd had enough of the insensitive and immature people he called his peers. He was swearing under his breath in French, German, Spanish, Japanese, Russian, English and Italian, when Dylan Creswell walked over, a cruel sneer curling his thin lips. Tom was, thankfully, nowhere to be seen, and Alex was certain this couldn't end well. He tilted his head to glance over his shoulder, and then turned back to his lunch; I'm really not in the mood to deal with these people. Dylan frowned; obviously annoyed at the lack of movement, and heavily set a hand onto Alex's shoulder.
"Hey Druggie, where's your boyfriend? Getting it off with some other skank behind the bike shed?" Alex snorted to himself, is that really the best bullies nowadays can come up with? He said nothing to the other teen, trying to finish his lunch, much to Dylan's irritation. He was looking for a fight, but Alex was determined not to rise to the bait. He didn't need anything else for the teachers and students here to find wrong with him. If Dylan had been as good at reading people as Alex, he'd have noticed the tense way he held his shoulders. Sensing that his first bout of insult did absolutely nothing, Dylan changed tactics, yanking Alex up from his seat, causing him to silently hiss in pain as he felt his back twinge, the boy's fingers digging into his partially healed brand. This boy was really getting on Alex's nerves, and he, again, felt his fists clenching.
"Rider, you look at me and answer when I ask you a question, got that? Now, what did you do this time, get sent to jail for shooting up again?" Alex just stared at him emotionlessly. "I said, what did you do?" Dylan snarled into his face. When Alex still didn't respond, Dylan went for his last blow, and said something he really shouldn't say, especially seeing as he was holding an already pissed off Alex in his grip. "Or maybe you can't tell us, and murdered another guardian, like you did with that American chick a year ago." He never even saw the hit coming before it smashed full force into his cheek.
Alex suddenly went limp in Dylan's hold, causing the other teen to drop him, which gave Alex the perfect opportunity to drop to the floor and windmill his leg, catching Dylan across the knee with a crack and causing him to fall over. Dylan's head impacted against the floor with a sickening crunch, and silence enfolded the canteen as everyone just stared at Alex. Taking advantage of the sudden shock, he checked Dylan over for any lasting damage, and found none, to his immense relief. He swore again, this time in Russian, as images of Jack assaulted his mind again, and he kicked Dylan in the gut, rather childishly, and then rose from his defensive crouch to face the whispers aimed at him. His emotionless mask slid on again as teachers arrived to 'apprehend' Alex and Dylan, though Dylan had to be carried out on a stretcher. Alex let the teachers feel like they were in control as they headed towards Mr. Bray's office and Alex was sat in front of the simple wooden desk to face the Headmaster.
Mr. Bray, a kind faced man with streaks of grey in his otherwise black hair, eyed the teen before him over the edge of his 'old man glasses'. The Headmaster had spent the past fifteen years of his life keeping his students out of trouble, disciplining the ones who cause any, and trying to work through the mountains of paperwork that came with running a comprehensive school. He never judged the students brought to him, only listened patiently to their excuses, humming and ahhing, until deciding upon the best way to teach them a valuable lesson. He expected that from Alex Rider, but the teen had always been a little bit of a puzzle.
After the teen's uncle had passed away a little over four years ago, Alex had begun to withdraw from the social circles he was once the lead of. The absences had seen to that. Within a year, Alex had disappeared over nine times; each separated by a month or two at the most, and had even ended up in hospital. The letters his guardian, (Jane? Jack?), had written were obviously lies. No one believed the excuses, and many of the student body made up their own rumours. Drugs, gangs, prison. All preposterous. Nonetheless, Mr. Bray thought as he took note of the three earrings in the teen's right ear, the hint of muscle under the tee, they had reason to be so extreme. Alex radiated danger and an air that just demanded respect from everyone.
As the Headmaster continued his inspection, Alex just sat, waiting patiently for the older man to speak. He knew denying anything would be ridiculous, and admitting would save him time better spent doing coursework. A small part of him was feeling lighter, freer, after the act of violence, but Alex quickly smothered it. Feeling's like that killed people. Guessing he had another minute or two of silent reflection, Alex turned his thoughts towards MI6. They'd know, of course, that he had assaulted a teenager, and would demand to see him. The teen himself, needed someone to come down and sort the paperwork details of the 'incident' out.
Mr. Bray cleared his throat, and then sighed very faintly as he leant back in his leather armchair.
"You know, obviously, why you are here Alex? Good. This sort of behaviour is not acceptable. Injuring another student, on purpose, is rights enough to expel you." He sat forward, trying to catch Alex's gaze, knowing eye contact went a long way to hammering the point home in teenagers. It also made them feel inferior for a short amount of time. Alex was clearly not making eye contact, staring at anything but his eyes.
"There are several forms I will need to fill out for this, including some your guardian will have to sign. The school filing system has gone a little... haywire, so I don't have your contact details on me. Could you tell me your home number? I must get your guardian in here Alex." This time, Alex did meet his eyes, locking onto them with an intense stare. Henry Bray, for the first time in his life, cowed under the emptiness he saw in the chocolate brown eyes of the eighteen year old before him. The stare lasted only seconds, but it was enough to distract the Headmaster from his once determined mind set.
Cold eyes. Soldiers eyes, eyes that had seen much too much for their age. Bray recalled murmurs from the other teachers over the years, describing the sudden lack of will they had under that blank, yet severe and steady gaze. When the teen looked down again, Mr. Bray shook his head to clear it, feeling slightly inferior himself compared to the intimidating teen.
"Of course Sir. May I ask, if it's not too much trouble, can I ring them? My guardian can be quite forceful and I'd rather they didn't make a scene when they arrived." The man could only nod, his mind still muddled. Alex smiled ever so slightly, pleased that he'd had minimal effort in calling MI6. He slipped out his iPhone; speed dialling the number marked 'emergency', and waited as the tone began. Mere seconds later, he heard the rustle of static as an overly chirpy voice called down the line.
"Alan Blunt's office, how may I be of assistance?" God he hated the over enthusiastic types, they made his eye twitch.
"Yeah, hey it's me, Alex. Oh, you're in the middle of cleaning?" Alex had memorized the script in a matter of days. He'd learnt every phrase and pause and inflection of tone that signalled his condition without revealing anything to anyone listening. He smiled very faintly at the pause, and then heard the click as it went straight to Mrs. Jones.
"Agent Rider. To what do we owe this call? The beating of another teenager perhaps?" The teen ground his teeth angrily, knowing full well that she was already informed of the fight and why he was calling. Irritating woman.
"Well... I need you to come to school. Yes now! Where? Oh, I'm in the Headmaster's office."
"You want me to send over an Agent to act as your guardian? I'll see who's available and send them out. I have to say, I'm disappointed in you Alex." He ignored the last bit, breaking into a nervous grimace for Mr. Bray's benefit.
"Okay, okay. I can't tell you now, but just come in alright? Fifteen minutes? Okay, see you."
Alex turned the phone off, subtly slipping it back into his pocket, and then looked up to face his Headmaster. The man was frowning slightly, obviously berating himself over letting Alex ring home. Alex suspected his actions weren't the only thing Bray wanted to talk about, and resigned himself to his fate as the older male removed his glasses, setting them down on the desk in front. Mr. Bray pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing he may as well get the other concerns out of the way on the fifteen minutes they had.
"Now Alex, I must admit that your... actions are not the only reason I have asked you to call your guardian. Other than the apology I expect you to right to Dylan and his parents, I'm concerned about these disappearances of yours. They themselves are grounds enough to expel you as well, though you put me in a rather difficult position." The man looked even more uncomfortable as he shifted in his chair, before continuing.
"Your academic achievements are outstanding. All of your teachers have said that, when there, you are top of every class, handling the material with great ease. You had A*s on almost all of your GCSE's, and remarkable results in the AS levels last May. I'm afraid, though, that the disappearances will deter any universities you wish to enter. Even if you don't go on to study at a University, finding a job at this age with no qualifying degrees will be almost impossible." Alex had to hold in the snort he felt rise at the mention of jobs.
He was rather touched that Mr. Bray cared enough to actually discuss this with him to his face, and not to a 'guardian' behind his back. Though, his concerns were rather moot. Alex had, in fact, taken several courses outside of school time, in many different areas. Most of them, he had already finished, earning several high level degrees already. The teen didn't need t tell Mr. Bray that, Alex just did whatever he felt like doing in his free time, whether that be working out or training, or going to late night Uni courses. Of course, Alex couldn't' tell his Headmaster that, and so nodded meekly like a good little student.
"Is there anything else wrong Sir?" Alex mentally wished there was, just to stretch out the next three minutes until his 'guardian' arrived to help save him.
Alas, Alex never had that kind of luck. The silence built in the small office around them as Alex stared at a piece of wall opposite him and the Headmaster began shuffling paper around his desk, which he'd already organised beforehand, obviously still a little out of it. Silence was something Alex rarely found, but it made him tense up all the same. There was no birdsong. No laughing or yelling. Nothing. Just the sound of his own heart beating and the huffed breaths of his Headmaster. It left Alex with the time to fret over his lapse in control.
He'd learnt from the best, and yet he'd lost it and beaten Dylan to the ground in a matter of seconds. They'd taught him to never let anger build up, it causes mistakes. God did Alex know that now. He was angry at himself, and angry at his life, and he was especially angry at MI6. They'd never sent him to therapy for his rather distressful time with... the organisation. Help was something Alex Rider always got a little too late to be any use.
Approaching footsteps shook both men from their silent contemplations, heads turning towards the office door as two low voices, both female, slowly grew discernable. At least they'd bothered to get a female agent this time, and not a man. God knows how he'd have been able to explain that. Alex turned back to face his Headmaster, crossing his arms over his chest in an effort to appear uncomfortable, like any other teenager would be if their guardian had been called in. The door opened to admit both females, one being the school's kind-hearted secretary, the other a slightly wary looking blonde obviously meant to be his 'guardian'.
"Here you go, miss. Starbright, this is Mr. Bray's office. Call me if you need anything at all dear." Miss Bedfordshire shot Alex a small smile as the door closed. Alex attempted a smile at the agent, annoyed when he received only a scowl back. The blonde haired woman seated herself with all the grace of an MI6 agent, and sent a bored look to Mr. Bray.
"What's he done this time? Blown up part of the school or something?" Alex hoped the agent was just improvising, and hadn't been told by MI6 he actually had blown up the science building.
Mr. Bray was looking slightly off-put, but shook his head and regained his composure to answer her, "No Miss... Starbright was it? Yes well. I'm afraid Alex here was caught beating a fellow student to the ground after an argument. While this is obviously a big concern, I'd rather get the paperwork over and done with now. Would you mind signing a few forms? Here's a pen."
For the next ten minutes, the woman signed every [piece of paper the Headmaster showed her, pen scribbling quickly over the twelve disciplinary forms. Alex sighed, leaning back in his chair for a few minutes of meditation while they finished off and talked amiably about this and that. Parents and teachers often spent hours talking about this and that. Sometimes Alex really wished he could complain about that like his friends.
Twenty minutes later saw Alex stepping out into the parking lot, the blonde right on his heels. They said nothing to each other, for which Alex was grateful. He really didn't feel like dealing with MI6 types. His Jeep sat innocently in his parking space, and Alex nodded a goodbye to the silent agent as she slid into her black BMW and sped off, without so much as a backwards glance. The teen spy sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as a bone weary tiredness settled over him. All he wanted now was to get home and relax. Or relax as much as the eighteen year could.
He silently reflected that his life couldn't get any worse, and at least his secret hadn't needed to be revealed. Anyone could know moves like he did to take Dylan out, and it was no big deal. No stitches or internal bleeding or broken bones. Nothing else could go wrong... could it?
-AR-
A/N *ducks the flying objects* Sorry if any of that annoys you! The first chapter isn't supposed to be interesting xD
(1) – So don't know if you can actually 'gun' a helicopter engine, just felt like it needed to be said. (Found out you can indeed gun a helicopter :) )
(2) – So don't know if this is a car or not, I just love Jeep Wranglers and thought it suited Alex's dangerous life.
(3) – Tom and Alex are in a sort of relationship. They don't date; I just thought Alex needed someone to help him through the stress now that Jack was dead. (Many of my friends are annoyed with me for making Alex 'gay') lols
PS – I know it's a really long chapter (this took me many a late night to complete), but it gets all the random and necessary information and 'blah' that was getting in the way of the next chapter. The next one's got a lot of action in it, so be prepared!
So to conclude, I'll remind you to review! Even if it's to tell me I've ruined it etc. And you wanna send me flames :P I appreciate anything! AND, when you do review, if you could tell me which Slash pair you want to see, that would really help me to develop the story! The possible pairs again are Yassen and Alex, Wolf and Alex, Eagle and Alex or Fox and Alex. Thanks – Daxy xx