A/N:Hello! This is my first fanfic. I hope you enjoy reading this first chapter. Please, review and tell me what you think-what needs to be worked on or what you think I did well. It will really help mefor the following chapters (and my English essays but that's besides the point)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything and/or anyone in the Alex Rider series. Even the world I create around the already know characters and places are still not mine-they belong to Anthony Horowits alone. (Anyways, If I did own this, that would mean that I'm a published, best selling author and would not be wasting my time writing on this site. JK!)

Chapter 1: Survival and Capture

It was cold. Ice cold. Alex Rider's whole body shook from the freezing effects of paddling water for what felt like an eternity. He was clinging to a scrap of plastic, his lifeline that he'd managed to remove from the shuttle not moments before it sunk. His hands had long ago pruned and were now turning blue. He had lost all feeling in his feet and lower body. The panic that had once taken a hold of him was starting to fade, like the rest of the world. It could not have been more than an hour, but to Alex, time seemed to stretch and become as vast as the ocean. The comforting grip of sleep was beginning to claim him. Alex tried to recount his years back in school, long before he became a spy, but even those memories seemed foggy and distant. He would have been angry but it took too much energy to even pull a frown. Seconds, possibly minutes passed, but not a sound was made with the exception of the constant metronome of the ocean and an occasional squawk of a sea bird.

Alex's eyes began to slowly slide shut, as it seemed he was losing the war with himself. He didn't notice when the distant sound of a helicopter grew closer, and then to finally stop above his head. He didn't notice men shouting, or a rope slap the surface of the water next to him. He didn't even notice when strong arms grabbed a hold of his limp body and a familiar voice whispered soothing words into his ear.

"We've got you Alex. Just hang in there. You're gonna' be alright."

It seemed that Alex Rider, the teenage super spy, was gone.

The dull roar of a popular café barely registered in the ears of one young boy. He sat alone at a cheep wooden table wearing an empty look that reveled nothing of the emotional war waging within his mind. His hand moved in small, pointless circles as he absently stirred the straw of his lemonade. A single finger was dragged along the side of the cup, creating swirling patterns in the residue buildup. To an outsider, this boy appeared relaxed; his shoulders were not tight with tension and his face was impassionate. Only his eyes gave anything away. Those blue orbs sparkled with raw anger. They seemed to scream out years of pent up frustration. For a split moment, an emotion rippled across his face. Then, there was nothing. The anger in his eyes drained away as if a vacuum had suddenly sucked away all feeling, positive or negative. He remained as this empty shell for a few minutes, unaware of the families and couples passing in and out of the café. Their laughter meant nothing to him. If anything, it brought up feelings he preferred to keep suppressed.

Working for the MI6 guaranteed a life with danger, life without a family, and most certainly a life without rest. His last mission had ended similar the five before. He had nearly died of hypothermia and had spent a restless week in a hospital. Only twice did the MI6 come to visit him. Both times, he had wanted to strangle them. His first visitor, Mrs. Jones, had tried to apologize and tell him what a good job he'd done. Just like the last five times. His second visitor, Wolf, had provided little comfort but displayed a great amount of concern. This display of kindness surprised Alex, but also stirred the feeling of suspicion. Wolf had offered compliments and minimal support, but his beating around the bush ended when he bluntly said that Alex was needed for another mission.

There was a moment of silence where neither moved. Alex glanced up into the face of someone whom he'd come to believe a friend. The look was cold and filled with loathing.

"Get out," said Alex in a dangerously soft voice. When Wolf didn't move Alex nearly yelled, "get out and never come back. Send me to an orphanage for all I care. I'll never work for you again!"

A look of pain crossed Wolf's handsome features. "Cub, Alex. You have to. You know Blunt, he wants YOU and will rest at nothing till he gets what he wants."

"I don't care."

"I'm only trying to make this easier for you. We may leave you alone for the moment, but we will come back at any point in time and we may not be so friendly." He said it kindly, but the threat was obvious. Wolf's only response was the soft ticking of a small, blue clock, which lay, mounted on the cream colored wall of the hospital room. The SAS group commander nodded his head and walked silently out the room. Alex refused to watch him leave, but couldn't help but feel like a part of him had fallen into a chasm; like he had just lost the only friend he had left. They were all his enemies, all of them.

SWOSH!

The boy's head snapped up. He ran his hand through his dirty blond hair in a casual manor as his eyes scored the restaurant. The boy's whole demeanor had changed in half a second.

Voices. Several voices all the sudden began to talk in a jumbled mummer that stood out above the rest. The boy's eyes immediately glanced towards every exit without even at twitch of his head. A group of young men entered the café, talking loudly, dressed casually, and glancing in Alex's direction every few steps. They all were well built, had the same haircut, and wore the same look on their faces. They appeared like soldiers from an army, or the SAS. It could be a coincidence, but coincidences, as he had learned, where never a part of the spy world. Things happed for a reason. This was no coincidence. There were here for him. They were going to force him to come quietly or else disrupt the public in which they would make him out to be a fool or crazy.

The boy stood suddenly. His hand disappeared into the back pocket of his jeans, bringing out a brown, snake skin wallet. He removed a ten-pound note and slapped it loudly onto the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw all the men pause and watch him make his leave. They waited a few seconds before following in what appeared a casual manor to the untrained eye.

Alex picked up his pace as soon as the he heard the reassuring click of the door shutting behind him. Cars flew by in colored blurs as he sprinted down the sidewalk.

SWOSH!

There it was again! It didn't take Alex long to figure they were shooting tranquilizer darts or something of equal threat at him. He pushed his legs harder as the severity of the situation rung in his head. The MI6 weren't asking for his services this time. They weren't even threatening him in any way. This time they were going to force him. Alex rounder the corner of Baker St. and Clermont Ave., only to stop dead in his tracks. A single figure stood in his way. The lone man was Wolf.

He was dressed in civilian clothing; a navy blue t-shirt that concealed his muscles, baggy blue jeans and a backwards cap that read NIKE.

"Alex, I will only ask-"

"No!" Alex screamed. All noise and bustling action of daily city life faded away. Wolf was the only ting Alex could focus his mind on. Wolf and the MI6 that he was a part of. "I'm not going to stand here and listen to the crap you've been telling me even since my uncle died. I won't work for you. I'm not going to work for the MI-"

Wolf made a sharp gesture with his hand and another hand smothered Alex's mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence. He'd been so intent on yelling at Wolf that he'd forgotten his pursers that he had escaped from at the restaurant.

Alex squirmed and twisted in his captor's arms, but no to avail. Wolf shook his head sadly and gestured sideways. Alex was dragged unwilling into the shadow of an ally. Someone handed his old friend a small, tube shaped object. Alex began to struggle harder as he realized what it was he held. He refused to become a prisoner of the MI6. It would not happen.

Wolf extended his hand towards Alex's arm and the sharp prick of a needle stung his flesh. The world began to swim dangerously and his struggles gradually weakened. The last words he heard were, "I'm sorry Alex." Then everything went black.