I do not own Big Time Rush

Chapter 1 - The Genesis

It happened in the most normal, unexciting way possible. 'It' being how she arrived to where she was now.

Simply put Alix, and she herself cringed at how cliché it sounded, 'woke up' in BTR, a show she hadn't watched in over a year- give or take a few weeks.

The only perk of her unknown appearance was that she awoke to a beautiful, lush mansion and that briefly made her forget about the dull pain she was feeling in her head.

Once she finally snapped out of her trance though, the pain wasn't so dull and her view of the really expensive car (A car inside the house!) was blocked by several sets of suit covered legs.

Rubbing her neck, Alix's sight travelled up the clothed legs of the person who seemed to be at the forefront of the others. She eventually ended up staring into a face that had an almost shark-like grin plastered on it.

It was the face of an old man, the wrinkles and thin white-ish hair giving away that much. He was neatly dressed as were the two bodyguards (because with poker faces and intimidating builds like they had, they couldn't be anything less) just behind him.

Her observations were interrupted when the old man, whom she was now vaguely starting to recognise, spoke to her.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my Los Angelos Mansion?" he asked, his smile not faltering (and it really creeped Alix out).

Alix scrambled to her feet, though the carpeted floor had been comfortable, and took a few steps back from the old man, which ended up with her having her back against a wall (which she thought was just perfect. Read: sarcasm).

"A-Alix Vermont," she hastily supplied, seeing the old man nod his head to the guard on the right, the dark skinned one whom slipped his hand into his suit's jacket. The bodyguard paused briefly, and Alix sighed in relief upon seeing him retract his hand.

Suddenly the same bodyguard slipped his hand into his pants pocket and (Alix held her breath once more) pulled out a cellular. He punched in a few things with one hand before presenting it to his boss.

The bodyguard retracted his hand at the nod of his boss, whom then returned his full attention to Alix, his smile having been dropped as he viewed the cellular screen. Alix didn't know what was scarier, the smile or the solemn face that he now wore.

"Now would you like to tell me why I can't find you anywhere in the US database?" the old man asked.

"Wait," Alix did a double take, "You have access to that stuff?" White hair (as Alix had decided to call him until she could recall his name or until he himself told her his name, whichever came first) merely chuckled in a way that said 'what a ridiculous question, of course I do'. Even the bodyguards were hard-pressed to smother their snorts of amusement.

Alix vaguely wondered if she had committed some kind of social faux paus.

"Of course I do. I'm rich and famous," White hair declared as if it was the reason enough to hack into the US government's international/national data base.

"He should have homeland security and all that jazz breaking down his door and breathing down his neck," Alix thought as she squirmed where she stood.

She peered at White hair nervously, the man was now back to smiling (as if it amused him to see other persons squirm) and it still creeped her out. Honestly she'd rather him be glaring at her or threatening to call the cops or something! His smile was just, unnerving.

"Well?" White hair said with a tilt of his head. As he did so, both his bodyguards' right hands slipped into their suits' jackets. Alix's eyes widened at the action.

"I'm an orphan!" she blurted out without a thought. Both White hair and the bodyguards raised an eyebrow. Alix just shrugged haplessly as nervous half chuckles escaped her lips.

Alix waited with baited breath as she stared hopefully at the three men in front of her. She had just spewed out a story about how she had lived in an orphanage, far far out in the country that wasn't even registered, until just recently because she ran away wanting to make a name for herself in the big city.

None of the men looked as if they bought her story, but she was only hoping anyways.

"Okay I'll buy it," Griffin announced after a brief (tense) moment of silence and Alix felt her spirit soar-"For now."- only to crash back down to earth and combust in a fiery explosion.

Alix felt her heart stop and start back up, going at speeds that would make cheetah jealous. Her only thought was:

"What's gonna happen to me?"

"In the meantime," Griffin began, "How are you at voice acting?"

"Huh?"

Four Months Later

Alix sighed she sat on a chair by a pool. Any other day and she would be relaxing and sipping out of a coconut…but not today. Her throat was too sore for her to relax comfortably. She couldn't swallow without it hurting much less drink anything.

Voice lessons were harder than she thought. A lot of things were harder than she thought. Adjusting to the fact that she was in a TV series was one of those things.

When she figured that bit out, she all but freaked. So much so that Griffin had had one of his guards tranquilize her, with a tranquilizer gun…that the guard carried in the left side of his suit jacket (and God knows that she doesn't want to know what Griffin's guards carry in the right side of their jackets).

How did she find out?

A few things jogged her memory. For instance, being escorted into a voice studio at Roque Records, meeting Gustavo Roque himself (who reminded her of an angry Fred Flintstone with the way he always yelled) and being unceremoniously dumped at the Palm Woods afterwards.

This was where she proceeded to be roped (with a literal rope) up with one Methodist Actress Camille Roberts (she was practising for a cow-girl role), drenched in drool via the resident wonder-dog and lest she forget, where a certain trio of girls told her plainly (Read: meanly) that she would last in Hollywood for about as long as it took them to get their nails done.

And all in two days.

Alix groaned as she reached into the pocket of her khaki pants to take out an orange-flavoured lozenge (a must carry with nowadays). She popped it in her mouth and slouched with relief. She still couldn't believe that Griffin contracted her to do a stupid kiddy show. But she had no choice. The best place to figure things out (i.e. how she got there and how she could get home) was not on the streets. Which meant she had to work her tush and voice off to remain…relevant to Griffin.

Another groan escaped Alix as she reached into her pocket once again, this time to retrieve her cell which was vibrating. She so didn't want to talk.

"Ava, I emailed you your schedule for the next three months. Remember to follow it to the 'T' if you want to have those afternoon relax sessions that you love so much. And don't even think about skipping out on your-"

"Okay!" Alix interrupted the rapid on slot of instructions, her voice a bit scratchy. "Geez Barbie."

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" the voice reprimanded.

"Don't call me 'Ava'," she shot back.

A sigh was heard over the phone. "Look Alix, just don't get into any trouble and do what you need to do. Got it?"

"Right." The ebony haired girl nodded even though her correspondent couldn't see her.

The female's voice continued, "I mean, with Gustavo and I going out to find his new talent, I just don't-"

"I get it Kelly," Alix interrupted again, a soft smile playing on her lips. There was a brief pause.

"Okay be good," was the swift response.

Alix's smile widened, "Find new talent."

The line dropped and Alix tucked her phone back in her pocket. She sighed as she went back to nursing her sore throat.

She had an inkling of what was coming. She guessed that her time in this fake world was about to become a real (and yes she dare make this pun) rush.

Word Count: 1424

A/N: I wrote this two years ago. What do you think?