Note: Forgot to crosspost from AO4.
Your luck is going to run out once and for all, Alex, and I won't be there to pick up the pieces.
He remembers those words, the sadness with which Ben said them to him. But the acceptance with which he uttered them, that was the worst part of the memory.
Alex goes to the field again and again he escapes with only his hair singed from the explosion, barely saved by a random fisherman boat when thrown to the sea, turning a corner just in time to evade a valley of bullets, his luck striking again when his captor suffers from a sudden heart attack, again and again.
But it's not just Alex getting from all situations home alive, it's what he leaves behind.
The luck of a devil, this boy has, and that is what makes him so useful to us.
Alex doesn't know, but Blunt once said those words to Mrs Jones, back when he still had a say in matters of Britain security. The luck of a devil indeed, but that's not what the unfortunate souls which Alex is sent to investigate, think. The devil himself. His right-hand man. He looks like an angel doesn't he? But that's what Lucifer was too before he fell.
He marches to the battlefield like a horseman of Apocalypse.
Wherever Alex goes, there are dead people left behind, villains, and way too often enough, friendly faces. It's like the boy steals their luck, and proclaims it his and his only. He only needs to breathe to fall straight into another problem, another conspiracy. Maybe that's what makes him so successful, a force of nature. Someone who is not meant to exist, someone who should better be left there alone.
Is his luck ever going to run out, you might wonder.
And what is going to be left from the world?