Disclaimer: It is impossible to own Alex Rider if you did not think him up. I didn't, so I don't.
The Doppelganger Effect
Chapter 1: A Thief in the Night
Moonlight glistened through the window, blessing the room with an almost mystical radiance. Several works of art got in the way of the shine, leaving shadows that appeared to dance on the museum's walls. It was silent. It was peaceful. It was a perfect night for a robbery.
The dark figure dropped silently onto the floor from the hole he had made in the ceiling, and let go of the rope that had aided him with his decent. The intruder was dressed entirely in black, complete with an ink-black mask covering the lower half of his face and a black woolen hat which hid his hair from view. Only his eyes were visible, gleaming an intense sapphire blue, as he strode confidently across the room and to his goal. He had no need to be overly cautious; he could self-assuredly say that he knew the architecture of the building better than even its builders. He knew precisely where every trip wire, every security alarm, every hidden camera lay and exactly how to avoid them. Nothing could stand between him and his goal tonight.
The intruder halted when he was roughly twenty feet from the encased jewel, his target for the night. The jewel was quite a beauty, the size of a baby's fist with a wondrous amethyst coloring. "The Devil's Fire" it was called, discovered in a blood mine in an underprivileged region of Africa. Countless innocents had been slain over this jewel, until the African government had appropriated it and lent it to the British in return for military aid in one of their constant civil wars.
The thief, however, cared nothing about that. He cared about little other than getting that jewel from behind that bullet proof, six inch thick glass case and into his hand. That was what his employers had called him in for.
But, he thought, pointing a finger at the case, they really are making this easy for me.
He made a strange motion with his thumb, similar to that of pulling a trigger and a small dart flew out of his pointed finger directly at the case, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces and instantly setting off over a dozen alarms. He smirked under his mask and blew on the tip of his finger, blowing away the imaginary smoke.
That ought to get their attention, he thought with satisfaction, surveying the flashing light and blaring alarms. They better not be late. After all, today I shall be revealing my 'identity'.
After four months of perfect, ingenious heists, his employers had ordered him to let the public see his face. Who was he to argue, especially when it would bring him one step closer to getting what he really wanted.
Besides, it would be rude of me to keep such a lovely face hidden from the world, he told himself, smirking as he plucked the jewel from amidst of the wreckage.
The thumping of dozens of boot-clad feet alerted him to the arrival of his audience. His smirk widened. Seconds later, the ornately designed doors were thrown wide open and swarms of heavily armed men stormed into the room, surrounding him in mere seconds. The thief stood and watched, greatly amused by the commotion around him. They wouldn't dare shoot; he knew he was wanted alive. Dead, he would be of no use, and they would never learn who he worked for. They wouldn't learn who he worked for if he was apprehended alive, either, but they didn't know that.
One soldier, apparently the leader, judging by the extra stripe on his jersey and the arrogance in his voice, took it upon himself to try and reason with the thief. Apparently he was not aware that thieves could not be reasoned with.
"Give us the jewel and you won't get hurt." The solider ordered boldly, his gun trained on his target.
How pathetically amusing, the solider actually thought he was in control of the situation. The thief responded by throwing the jewel lightly into the air and then catching it with his other hand, feeling a surge of pleasure at the way the entire squad flinched. Nice to know that even they were familiar with his reputation. But, now that his entire audience was here, it was best to not disappoint them. What kind of thief would he be if he did that?
Dismissing the dozens of guns trained and locked on his entire being, the thief merely raised his right hand and flicked it backwards, giving permission for all hell to break loose. And break loose it did, with a grand party to celebrate its momentous release.
Many of the soldiers were dead before they even realized it, ripped apart by the thousands of miniature blades of the sharpest steel, specially designed to explode with the force of half a grenade three seconds after contact.
The sight of the blood sent his heart in to a crazed frenzy and it took him all his will power and the memory of the pain his employers inflicted if he failed, to keep him from jumping into the chaos, to spill more. The surviving soldiers had no trouble restraining themselves though. They disregarded their fallen comrades with a cold-heartedness born from losing too many loved ones and sent rain upon rain of bullets at the thief.
He dodged most of them as he dashed back towards the rope hanging from the hole in the ceiling, though a few found their mark, driving deep into his back, an arm, and a shoulder. He ignored the burning pain, knowing it would be gone within the hour. Already, he could feel the wounds closing up.
"Stop him!" a voice roared as the thief began to scale the rope using his own momentum to swing out of the way of the continuous stream of bullets.
He recognized it instantly as the soldier who had tried to bargain with him, quite horribly, he might add. So, he was still alive. He'd have to fix that.
In one swift motion, and a sacrifice of the other shoulder to a bullet, the thief reached into the inside of his boot and pulled out a dagger which was then sent sailing through the air and right into the ribs of the poor general.
He allowed himself a second's worth of gloating at the thought that he had responsible taking away the life of that human before reprimanding himself. That was petty, stick to the plan.
He wiggled his right foot, allowing the boot covering it to loosen and fall onto the ground. Instantly, it released a stream of pale pink gas. Knock out gas. Wallowing in their pathetic, frantic shouts, the thief scaled the rest of the rope, pausing briefly at the top. With a blood-covered hand, he discarded his hat and ripped off his mask, his fingers leaving streaks of blood from just under his right eye to his chin, giving him a demonic look. Then he turned and grinned maliciously right into the security camera behind him.
*~~ͽͼ~~*
The image froze instantly as Alan Blunt's thumb slammed into the pause button on his remote. He calmly surveyed the screen, his eyes cold and uncaring. Hidden from the world were the emotions which currently consisted of a mix of shock, disbelief, and a dash of horror. A teaspoon of fear had been present too, but it was quickly smothered by pride.
"Sir", whispered Mrs. Jones, her eyes darting between the cruel face on the screen and her boss's calm, calculating one. Her harsh breathing and iron clad hold on the arms of her chain betrayed her feelings. "That was…it wasn't…I mean…It can't be—"
"It is," he stated, not once turning away from the face of the being responsible for the deaths of countless numbers of his men over the past four months. Thirty-seven more had been added to the count just hours before. The face was surprisingly young but it contained the half crazed gleam that was normally found in serial killers in his eyes. His grin was almost mocking as Blunt finally diverted his eyes and turned towards Mrs. Jones.
He pressed another button on his remote control, replacing the image with that of a sleeping fourteen year old boy.
"Or perhaps it isn't…"
Another click and the face was back, its grin even more mocking than before.
"…Alex Rider."
*~~ͽͼ~~*
Several blocks away, a reluctant teenage spy snored peacefully; unaware of the turn his life would be taking within the next twenty four hours.
Ignorance is bliss, while it lasts that is.
*~~ͽͼ~~*
Note1: I am not a professional thief, so the thief's plan probably had a million flaws in it. Please excuse that fact due to my inexperience in the art of thievery.
Note 2: I made the "The Devil's Fire" up, it doesn't really exist.