- this is rated T but if it ever gets to be, you know, a little more than that just tell me. I have no idea on how to judge these types of things.
Tell me if you're interested in more, yeah?
Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider. I just wish I did.
They came for him not long after he arrived in America.
It'd been a routinely boring day, like all of the other ones before it. It was two months after everything had happened and things weren't exactly getting better, but they were definitely improving. He'd made a few friends, his life in London not as clear, not as painful.
Everything was going good. Everything was okay.
(He felt that it could be snatched away at any moment.)
It was the end of another long school day and he was leaving the place in a hurry - he didn't really like being there, it was too loud, too hot, and too crowded - and he was happy because he didn't have to wait for Sabina like he usually did. She liked to talk to people and was into just standing around until the majority of the students had already left. But it was the day of the tennis team tryouts and she said that he could go home if he wanted because it was going to take a while.
Outside it was hot - he was beginning to learn that it always seemed to be humid where they lived - and uncomfortable. Despite traveling to numerous places, he'd always went back to London, a place that you usually brought a jacket everywhere you went just in case.
He nodded at a few people he passed when they smiled offhandedly at him and made his way down the stone stairs, going quickly. He cut through the lawns and made his way between the locker rooms and the greenhouse, a shortcut Sabina didn't like to use because you had to climb a fence and with her particular choice in clothing it was close to impossible.
He easily climbed it and jumped at the top, landing in a light crouch on the shifty gravel in the narrow alley. He'd only been this way once before and he'd been with one of Sabina's football friends, a beefy guy that was now currently dating her, only after warning Alex that he better not try any funny business. The guy had been cool about it which had kind of surprised him. Usually people tried to beat him up before they said what they had to say.
He made his way through the small space and looked both ways once he got to the end, feeling distantly paranoid. When there was no one around that he could see, he made his way out and continued his walk. Their house wasn't far from school when you used the shortcut, but when you had to walk all the way around, it took far longer. So when he saw the house not long after he'd exited the alleyway he started in a jog.
No one was home and he couldn't help but feel a big weight on his chest lift, and couldn't bring himself to feel guilty over it. Liz and Edward had been nothing but kind to him and he was greatful that they'd taken him in, he really was, but their behavior had begun to feel too smothering. Their constant watchful eye and their questions about everything that had happened were making him feel resentful in their presence. It was nice to be alone for the first time in a while.
He let himself fall on the couch and felt the days drowsiness catch up with him, he was usually tired after school and he hardly ever fell asleep until late into the night, his insomnia always holding him back. He closed his eyes and felt his breathing begin to deepen. It was seconds before he was asleep.
It seemed only moments later that he was being woken up by the sound of a creak.
He knew immediately that it wasn't any of the Pleasures'. He knew the way they walked and the sound of each of their footsteps. Sabina always wore sandels and they clacked every time she made a step. Liz had a way of dragging her feet. Edward had heavy foofalls. These footsteps were like dust feathering against the floor with light drops, if it hadn't been for the loose floorboard by the staircase then Alex wouldn't have known until it was probably too late.
Alex carefully rolled over on his stomach and placed a hand on the ground, lifting himself quietly off the couch so that he was on his hands and knees, kneeling on the wooden floor. Butterflies of fear and adrenaline fluttered in his stomach, making him want to vomit.
He heard the pause in the silence of the house, and breathed quietly through his nose, looking for something, anything to use as a makeshift weapon. He knew that this wasn't just some robber, (or he felt that he did because when had anything ever been as simple as that when it came to him?) he wasn't foolish enough to believe that it could be. Robbers were louder than this, not obnoxious, but certainly not so skillfully silent.
He slipped his hands inside his khaki shorts pockets (hands shaking a bit) and bit his lip when he found a long thin wooden stick. A pencil. It would work. He needed to know if it was only just one person or if there were more that he couldn't hear. Alex bent down lower so as not to be seen if they walked in.
And then the lights were flicked on.
Dread weighing down each of his limbs, Alex glanced up... and found himself looking into the eyes of a black clad man. He immediately sprang back but that turned out to not be a good idea when he found himself in the arms of another person. He kicked his leg back into the mans shin and twisted forcefully around when the grip momentarily loosened. The man looked worn, lines etched deep into his forehead, and his eyes were glaring with determination. Alex didn't think, didn't even give it a thought, he brought the pencil up and slammed it into the mans neck, digging it in before yanking it back out.
All of this happened in a matter of seconds and blood was everywhere. Coating his hands and decorating his face, it was beginning to pour on the ground like a gruesome waterfall and Alex pushed the man harshly away and spun to face his other opponent. He ducked when a fist came toward his face and backed up a bit, trying to put some space in between them.
The dark skinned man kept coming, quick and skilled, and Alex was kept on the defensive, dodging punches and darting out of the way of kicks, not getting a chance to retaliate. He soon learned that that had been the plan all along, making him back up with each hit because all of a sudden there were arms wrapped around him again and the dark man was smiling exhaustedly in front of him, hand gripping something silver.
"You're better than I gave you credit for." The man conceded, his smile turning to one of pity. "But not better than me."
He grabbed the side of Alex's face and pulled his hair a little, lifting the thin silver thing. The dark man looked at it, "It's a dart filled with something that'll make you have some good dreams."
He ran his thumb over Alex's brow, "God knows you'll need them."
And then he brought the needle down.
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