The Holiday Spirit
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A Quiet Christmas Indeed
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Christmas was nothing special for Yassen. Well, not usually.
Despite the fact that his mother and father had been two of Russia's many Russian Orthodox citizens, Christmas had never held any particular meaning for Yassen. Sure, it had been a day when all his family had gathered together, prayed and celebrated, but there had been none of this Western culture nonsense – no meaningless plastic gifts, no big commercial corporations smuggling in on the festivities… no, Christmas had been meaningful in a happy, family way. But since his parents had died, he had decided that God didn't particularly care about individual people, so why would He care if just one more person didn't celebrate His son's birthday?
So it came to be that, on this snowy Christmas morning in Berlin, Germany, that Yassen was enjoying a rare holiday from his job, a two month break between jobs. He knew that it was in part a slight reward for his activities lately. Seeing as Alex Rider had seen him 'die', the agencies of the world (except for SCORPIA, of course) thought him to be so. Which wasn't exactly true, obviously, but it was marvelous for jobs. Who would think to accuse a dead person? And no one would dispute the famous Alex Rider's word.
Alex Rider. Yassen furrowed his eyebrows very slightly. Something about that boy… he shook his head and put the thought out of his head.
This Christmas, however, was spent in a way that Yassen didn't often indulge in; relaxation. Since the whole city was covered in foot deep snow, there was really only one way to spend the day. He lit up the fireplace, got out a glass and a bottle of wine, and fetched the book that he was currently reading in between jobs.
Which he found unusual – normally he wouldn't feel as good about letting his guard down, even if he wasn't the job and was sure that he was completely under the radar. But today he was quite content to immerse in his book and forget the outside world.
That is, until a flurry of knocking sounded on his door.
Suddenly there came a tapping… he quoted, with an internal sigh of exasperation. Of course, no emotion showed on his face, but hey, life of an assassin did that to you.
He walked to the door, wondering who would be on his doorstep in this weather, especially who would be knocking, still, with such desperation.
That was when the first worm of doubt wriggled into his mind. "Coming," he called, and the knocking stopped. A few seconds later he had reached the door and pulled it open. He looked around, but there was no one there… probably some stupid kids, he decided. But for some reason he looked down.
And stepped back in shock.
There, lying on his doorstep, was the very still body of Alex Rider.