Summery: Alex Rider is 18, a fully paid member of the MI6. He's seen everything and done more than a man tiwce his age could imagine doing. Yet just before he is sent on a new mission, with a brand new partner, he meets a young woman with a name he can barely pronounce. he always thought that did not have an easy life, that he had been exploited by his bosses… now he feels he has it easy. however, the challange for Alex here is to keep this young woman, this ex-assassin alive, before her family and her old gang come back and get rid of her for good. And that is not even his official mission. With Jack engaged, Tom within MI6 beside him and this young beautiful stranger attracting danger where ever she looks, Alex is pretty sure life can't get any more comlex than it is... until of coarse he starts his mission...
A/N: i started this story under another name, which is why some of u may recognise it, and a lot of it's content. but i'm editing it chapter by chapter (so it mite take longr on sum chapters to update than others). some cahpters will b totally re-done while others only partially. i was quite happy with this beginning, so i thought of very little change. anyway, plz read, review and above all- enjoy
And... Back To The Beginning Again
Yet again, it started where it all began. It always happened in that fashion, no matter how much he tried to avoid it… In that same office. With that same man. Alan Blunt. Head of MI6 and the most boring man on the planet. Alex never had any time for him, the only person that came even close to that was the woman next to him, sucking on a mint. Mrs Tulip Jones.
Yet why was Alex Rider back in the office of Alan Blunt, three years after the first meeting? Quite simple really.
Another mission.
Another chance to escape death.
Another scar to add to his collection.
And this time, another pay check to make up for all of that.
Yes he was seventeen, and going to sixth form, it wasn't just any regular sixth form. Since recruiting Alex Rider, the MI6 had found out how useful exceptional teenager could be. Nobody really suspected them. Nobody thought them to be smart enough. In reality, it was teenagers and children who held the most information, as no one paid any heed to them.
Because of this, schools were set up, inside MI6, to train these youngsters to be spies. To set them up for a life of lies, danger, and deceit.
The only unfortunate thing about this arrangement, was that many of the children recruited were coming to a better world than the one they had left.
Many were orphaned. Most were ignored. At least a quarter were abandoned. All were either under the care of foster homes or guardians or simply the state.
Many were thieves and con-artists already, turning to a life of crime to survive and live.
Other's had a knack for getting into trouble, and weaselling their way out of it again easily.
There were never many of them, the whole spy system could not rely on children alone. At the moment, there were about eight at Alex's level (aged between seventeen and nineteen), three female five male, including Alex and twenty between the ages of fourteen and sixteen. All of whom were pretty much renegades from the law. All taken in by the MI6 and used their own purposes.
Alex hated it. They were all being manipulated and used almost against their will. Put in extreme dangers and left there.
At the same time, the children were looked after when at home, received a proper education for when they got older (though Alex often added to himself; if they got older), paid properly, had a pension plan for when they decided to leave the services. They even employed specially trained psychologists to look after the minds of the youngsters when they came back from a mission if need be.
They were looked after, yet they were still used.
"Alex," sighed Mrs. Jones, "why are you still here? I thought you would have left long ago."
Alex had developed a lot within those three years; scars still littered his body and his most impressive was the one on his chest. His muscles were more developed, more wiry and lithe. He looked like a professional athlete.
His dirty blonde hair had grown so he could tie it back into a spiky pony-tail at the bottom of his head. His haunted brown eyes were still dangerous and mysterious, but they held more life in them. They were less dead, and hungered more for adventure than ever before.
He had learned to thrive off the missions he had been given rather than pay for them. He had grown tall too, and handsome to the females that saw him. Though the female spies around him never said anything to him or tried anything. They concentrated on the job, almost more than the males.
He grinned crookedly at her. "It's kinda like a drug now, Mrs Jones," he told her casually, stretching his arms up, "you got me started, now I can't get enough."
"Not thinking of leaving us?" Blunt stated simply.
"Can't get rid of me that easy," he replied, just as casually, "besides, wouldn't you rather a willing spy rather than one that has to be bribed."
Mrs. Jones let out a slight laugh. In the past they had to bribe him with his guardian's allowance to stay in England. Now she had a permanent visa, and Alex worked for MI6 legally, though not on the books. He was paid- finally.
He still lived with Jack, and wanted her to stay. She wanted to stay too, she had come to love Alex like a little brother, almost a son, though she was now only thirty-one and engaged to an English man. Ironically, he was a spy in MI6, having met Jack through Alex when they had been forced to partner up when Alex was fifteen.
"You may want to retire when you hear this mission," Mrs Jones murmured uneasily, glancing at Blunt.
Alex shrugged. "Can't be worse than Scorpia," he replied, as usual, his left arm twinging in the remembrance of the price he had paid for betraying the organisation and shutting down about a third of it's operations. It was a shame that it was back in full swing and there was nothing they could do about it.
"It is… Scorpia related," Mrs Jones admitted sullenly, "but we'll explain it when the girl ar-"
"I WILL NOT!" yelled a voice from outside making Alex turn in his seat, it was a stranger's voice, he was surprised to hear such a commotion in the building. He was used to it being quiet and sedate. No one usually yelled. "NO WAY! KEEP ME OUT OF IT!"
The doors burst open and girl stormed in looking incredibly annoyed. Following her were two men in suits and sun-glasses, evidently, by their expressions, used to this girl's out bursts.
The girl, herself, was odd.
She was short, about five foot three, possibly a little smaller. She had a slim build, dancer's body, and angry expression. Her brown hair shimmered red where the light hit it, and her hazel eyes flashed with anger at the people in front of her. Her fine majestic features were twisted, almost artfully, into an angry frown, her full mouth part as she panted slightly with the intensity of her anger. She was an odd one, and Alex had never seen her before. He was certain he would have remembered such a girl if he had.
"I am not going back to the Tigers," she snapped angrily, "I fucking refuse." Her English had a trace of an accent in it, but not much. She could have been born and bred in London all her life, though Alex for some reason doubted it. "I'll be killed for fuck's sake!"
"No you won't," promised Mrs. Jones quietly, "you were only known to a sect of them-"
"MY PARENTS WERE THE BOSSES FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, YOU STUPID WOMAN!" the girl shrieked, her panic clearly seen, "my picture would have been circulated within all other sects by now!"
Alex's eyes flicked between the girl and the adults. The two suits were trying to calm her down, talk her into being quiet. She silence them with a harsh glare and a twitch of her hand. They seemed to know something about her that made them stop, and step back. The power she had over them seemed to be immense.
"Alexander Rider," said Blunt suddenly, standing up, "meet out newest informant, Shumila Hussain. Shumila Hussain, this is our longest member of the Youth Movement project, Alexander Rider."
"Uh… hey?" said Alex uneasily, standing up politely, watching her.
"Whatever," she snapped, "informant? Listen buddy, I stopped my brother from killing you, I haven't told you anything. And who the hell says I wanna work for you lot anyway?"
"Miss Hussain," Alex said suddenly, the politeness in his voice seemed to register with her as she snapped her glare to him, and softened the fire in her eyes, "I would not advise you to try and con these people out of your help. They will try anyway they can to get you into their order, and they will do it."
The girl snorted. "Listen mate," there was some lilts of South African mixed into her words, but they were hints nothing more; the accent was something of a mismatch of many different accents, "they can only blackmail people who have something to loose. I've already lost everything. They send me back to the Tigers, I'll be killed. They put me in prison, I'll be let out eventually, then hunted down and killed. They grant me amnesty- I'll still be killed. I've lost my family. I've lost my home. I've lost everything except my life, and even that I know can be taken easily. Even then, death ain't something I'm afraid of. They ain't got nothing on me."
Alex nodded, impressed. Some people would have given up hope faced with that, this girl seemed to be going strong and not be oppressed by such things. She was someone to be admired.
"She's right," said Mrs. Jones, easily, "and we will not make you do anything."
"Good, now I'm listening."
The change of mood happened so fast, that Alex didn't even see it. One minute the girl, Shumila, looked ready to burst. The next she was as calm as a cat who had been given a saucer of milk.
She glanced at Alex, almost uneasily, as she moved foreword to sit down. Her movements were calculated and measured, yet at the same time casual and relaxed, as a cat ready to pounce. She suddenly reminded Alex of the Siberian tiger he had once faced when he was fourteen. He got the feeling she was just as friendly if provoked.
"Does he know?" she wandered as she sat down, facing Blunt.
"No," stated Blunt, "I do not thi-"
"I do," she replied calmly.
The feeling of the Siberian tiger was trebled by that simple comment, though this time it was directed at the man in front, rather than himself. He felt relatively safer, her anger and attack was not at him.
"Mr Rider-"
"It's Alex," he smiled at her, crookedly and half-heartedly, "Mr. Rider was my uncle."
"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, catching the word was, but said nothing more on the matter. She even sounded sorry. "All right then, Alex. Would it alarm you to work with a person who has been trained to kill since they were strong enough to walk in a straight line?" she had said all that in a single breath, without blinking. As though it was a question asked everyday. Yet Alex was pretty certain someone in her position was probably asked a similar question nearly everyday; and he still didn't know her position.
"Yes," he said truthfully, "but only for a little. No one can help the people they were brought up by."
A flicker of a smile danced across her face. It lit it up, just for that flashing moment, then was gone. "There's you're answer, Blunt," she said sourly, "either you tell him of my history- or I refuse to even consider the job before me. Even if it means destitution. And in fact- I'd rather Mrs. Jones tell it. She is more likely to give an understanding account."
Blunt frowned, and nodded to Mrs. Jones. He nodded to at the two suits to leave.
"See ya guys," called Shumila, hearing their foot steps.
"You can count on it girly," replied one of them, his tone friendly. Apparently their time together had been a pleasant one until she had reached the office.
Alex looked expectantly at Mrs Jones.
The woman heaved a heavy sighed and started another mint. She got up and turned to a filing cabinet and leafed through it softly.
No one spoke. The only sound in the room was the soft hum of the air conditioning, the ruffling of Mrs. Jones' fingers and the breathing of four people in the room.
"Shumila Pulvasha Shandana Hussain," started Mrs. Jones quietly, as she found the file, finally, flicking through it, not facing them, "was born on the midnight of the 1st of November, and is now aged seventeen.
"Born in the pukhtoon area of Pakistan, directly on the boarder of the north west frontier as her mother wished. Yet brought to Afghanistan with the rest of her family so her training could begin when she reached the age of being able to walk, as she has mentioned, in a straight line.
"She is a master of weapons, including guns, swords, daggers amongst other things. She has surpassed herself in Karate, judo, jiu-jitsu, tiu-jitsu, Thai- Kwan do and even the more modern police basic training.
"She can kill with her bare hands if she wants to, or find away to murder with anything around her. She has no fears that she knows of, and is now the on the run from her family."
"You're an assassin?" asked Alex, surprised, looking at the girl next to him.
"Yep," she responded easily, picking at the black nail polish she wore, she glanced at him, "got a problem with it?"
"Yes," he replied, "how do I know I can trust you?"
"I haven't been paid to kill you," she shrugged, "I don't kill unless I've been paid. And so far, I haven't commit murder. Haven't been paid enough to take a life." Her face darkened.
"What she means is," started Mrs. Jones, "she kept denying money, saying that she wasn't being paid enough."
"Couldn't bring you're self to kill in cold blood?" he asked quietly, speaking from experience.
"Sort of," she admitted, "I could kill if I have to. But not innocents." She stared off into the distance and heaved a heavy sigh. "You should also know that I was going to be sent here to kill you, Alex. Get close to you and kill you. There was only a slight problem."
"Couldn't kill someone your own age?" he asked, bitterly.
She chuckled. "I wasn't talking from my point of view, master Rider," she pointed out, her being calm as almost as arresting as her being ridiculously angry. "The agency that wanted you killed didn't have a picture of you. The only description they could give you was about two or three years out of date. And when you're fourteen compared to when you're seventeen, it would have been rather… difficult for me. That and I really didn't wanna kill a kid when I didn't know what they had done." She shrugged. "I have the mentality of a killer, I have the training, I don't have the soul of one. That's what you need to make it in the business."
In the space of maybe fifteen minutes, Shumila Pulvasha Shandana Hussain went from being a complete stranger to being someone Alex felt he had to get to know better. Even if she had originally been sent over to kill him.
He realised with a jolt, she was in danger of being killed herself. And why was she even with the MI6? Wouldn't they want her killed? It didn't make sense to him.
"Why MI6?" he demanded, "most people in your position wouldn't wanna come to the people who want assassins arrested."
"I'm about number six or seven on their most wanted list. Or is it eight…" she added to Mrs. Jones.
"Seven," Blunt confirmed for her.
"Was," insisted Mrs. Jones.
There was another flicker of a smile across the girl's face. "So I needed my name cleared. I escaped my assassination chain, and came here."
Alex's face clouded over. "Did you tell them everything?"
The tension in the air was almost electrical. She was the only calm one in the room, staring out the window, almost dreamily. Blunt's hands were suddenly white from the fact that he was grasping them too hand. Mrs Jones leaned forwards in her seat, anticipating the girl's answer.
Alex wasn't sure what to do, whatever the answer. If yes, she had betrayed her people, how did he know she wouldn't betray these people again.
If no, how could they know she was truly on their side.
Suddenly he didn't want to know the answer.
"You know what," he started, just as she opened her mouth, "I don't want to know. Something's are best left unknown, and I think I can live with this being something I'm left in the dark with."
She looked surprised, for the first time, and just stared at him, confused. Then she shrugged. "Any other questions?"
"Will you kill?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"If my life or my ally's life is in danger, and if it is the only way I can tell will save me or them. A last resort shall we say."
For the first time since she walked into the room, he smiled at her genuinely. "Now that's what I call honesty," he announced, "so we're going to be sent on a mission together?"
A surprisingly dazzling smile lit up her defined features, the brightness of it and the light heartedness of her expression took the room by surprise.
The tension broke entirely, and Mrs. Jones relaxed back into her chair and Blunt's hands returned to their normal greyish colour. Alex was still stunned by how much she changed when she smiled.
"As far as I know," she replied, "but if it involves the Tigers, I am not getting myself killed for the sake of a country that wanted me dead to begin with." Her smile disappeared as suddenly as it came as she looked at Blunt with piercing eyes.
"Not to being with," Blunt responded calmly, his voice exceedingly dull, "we need you out of danger and out of the lime light before we can do that."
"Then delete my files off you're network, get any information of me off the internet, make it so that I don't exist- apart from my birth certificate. Treat it as though you've caught me and have killed me but don't want anyone to find out," she said that as calmly as though she was asking a question in a subject she didn't understand.
"It's not just that, you need a place to stay."
"I'm not staying in you're spy kids complex," she snapped, causing Alex to grin at her mocking tone, "they probably know who I am because of you. I don't want that stigmatism."
"No… we were thinking more like, full time protection." His eyes slide across briefly to Alex before darting back to Shumila.
"Riders' house?" she demanded, catching the look.
"Yes," he admittedly simply, "it's a temporary solution to a temporary problem."
"Why can't I let them attack me once and play dead?" she complained, "then I won't need to trespass on some one else's-"
"You should," Alex interrupted, knowing interrupting her would be a bad idea, but did it anyway.
"What?"
"Stay with me," he shrugged, "it'll be easier for you and this lot too. And how difficult could it be?"
She chuckled. "You'll be surprised," she murmured, "but if you're sure."
"Miss Hussain, I am surprisingly certain."