Hi, it's been a long time since I've uploaded anything. At all. About...3 to 4 months now?
I've been playing around with different ideas and plot lines, Glacier Blue for one is experiencing some major changes. The chapters keep on changing as to where I want it to go. I have a hard time picking one idea, so it will take a while. But I'll try to get it up as soon as possible. But, don't be surprised at infrequent updates and posts. I'll try when I can.
I'm glad that you all like my posts though. I've never received any bad reviews, so I presume I'm not doing too badly.
As always, I don't own the Alex Rider Series by Anthony Horowitz.
This one-shot it a fiction of my imagination.
"I'm tired of MI6."
Ian raised his eyebrows at the blunt words. He hadn't expected it. "You're telling me why...?"
Ash sighed heavily, slouching elegantly in his seat. "It's...boring. After that incident in Malta I've been reduced to desk work."
Ian made a sympathetic noise but leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Look, Ash. We're friends and all—not close friends, but what are we doing in the middle of a stinky bar in London?"
Ash laughed, tipping back the entire glass of vodka, managing to spill some on his shirt. Ian sniffed in distaste. "I can only tell you because you're the only one I trust who won't go blabbing to the authorities first chance y'a get."
Ian sneered coldly, amused at the idea that anybody trusted him. Heck, even MI6 knew not to take his word sometimes. Ian did everything for himself, and only thought of himself. "You trust me?"
"Of course."
"I'm flattered," replied Ian, sarcastically.
Ash hiccuped twice, before giving a coughing hack and waving over the bartender who poured him another glass. "I've joined another group, and to get in...they've decided to give me a little test. To prove my honesty and that I'm not playing them." Ian nodded impatiently.
"I have to kill someone."
Ian leaned back in his chair, bored all of a sudden as the mood deflated. "That's it?"
"I don't have any problems with killing. It's just the targets that I have a problem with."
"I don't see why?"
"It's John."
Ian's back straightened as if he'd just been electrocuted. "I haven't heard from him in a while. Have you Anthony?"
Ash scowled darkly at the blond. "It's Ash, Ian."
Ian waved a hand irritably. "Same difference. Last I heard he and Helen were expecting a baby."
"Yeah, John told me about it too. They plan on naming him Alexander."
He scowled in disgust. How could his brother possibly want to settle down and have a kid? And MI6 let him go?
"...anyways, the group wants me to get rid of John and his new family. I just wanted to tell you that. So, if MI6 comes a'knockin', steer the attention away from me, alright Ian?"
He raised an eyebrow, as he sighed heavily and leaned forward, blue eyes blazing. "And if I do...what do I get in return?"
Ash grinned charmingly. "C'mon Ian. Buddy, hey! We're friends. Friends help each other. Why do I have to give you something?"
Ian smirked in satisfaction. "If you're going to play it that way, Anthony. John is my brother. Helen is my sister-in-law and Alex is my nephew. We're family. Family comes before friends so give me something good and I won't go running to MI6 with this little...tidbit of information."
The dark haired man groaned, tilting his head back as he swallowed another gulp of the alcohol. "Fine. Do you want money? What, Ian?"
Ian crossed his legs leisurely in front of him as he contemplated the choices. "You'll pay me in secrets, Ash. I want to know some more things about this organisation of yours. You'll kill my brother and his family, and join the group. You'll also be my eyes and ears in that organisation of yours."
"For what?" Green eyes pierced blue ones that sparkled and danced with a sadistic joy. "Why are you so interested?"
"It isn't a matter of interest, per se, Anthony. But instead, a matter of self-preservation. How am I supposed to know that you won't be paid to kill me too?" Ian smiled endearingly. "After all, spies turn on each other all the time. I need to keep you in check, little bird."
Ash scoffed, folding his arms together across his chest. "Little bird?"
"It's your new nickname. If you don't like it, too bad. That's what I'm calling you."
Ash narrowed his eyes at the blond, wondering what schemes were flying through that head of his. He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping across the floor. "It was nice talking to you, Ian. We'll keep in touch."
A week later, Ian received a phone call.
"This is the Royal & General Bank of London calling for a Mr. Ian Rider regarding his late brother Mr. John Rider. We're sorry to inform you that your brother and his wife were involved in a plane crash. There were no survivors. You are now the sole guardian to his young son of six months, Alexander John Rider. Please visit the Royal & General Bank for further instructions. You have our condolences."
The message played over and over as Ian listened with blank eyes. John was dead. Helen was dead. Alex wasn't.
The next message played on the machine and Ian heard Ash's voice, rough with sleep.
"Hey, Ian. I heard about John and his wife. Sorry t'hear 'bout it. Listen, if you need anything, I'm here. I know it's hard for you but, you're not alone. John was my friend. I'm Alex's godfather. I'll visit you and the kid in a while. I'll call when the time comes. Sorry for your loss."
Ian shook his head as he deleted the two messages. John was dead. Ian knew beforehand but he didn't say anything. He had caused his brother's death. Ian slouched in his chair, raking his hands through his hair. It was done. That was it. Time to move on.
John was dead, so what? Ian wasn't. Helen was dead, Ian didn't care. He had never liked the woman to begin with, anyways. He smiled slowly to himself. He was truly alone in the world, wasn't he? Shame. Now there was no one to stop him from doing anything he wanted.
Ian didn't attend the funeral. He knew that he was supposed to be there, to read his brother's eulogy. He couldn't face the crowd dressed in a sober black and stammer through a speech, pretending to cry. He knew Ash would be there—sitting, stone-faced like he didn't kill them himself. He couldn't do that.
And so when Blunt offered him a mission in Bulgaria, Ian seized the chance.
He returned a few weeks later, greeted with the prospect of taking care of a little baby. Alex. A perfect mix of John and Helen. From the few wisps of blond hair to the serious brown eyes, Alex was almost an exact replica of John. To his horror, he had started to tear up, and he had wiped the threatening drops furiously, swiping at them savagely.
He would not cry. He couldn't. And he didn't.
Years later, when Alex was eight, Ash visited for the first time since John's death. When he entered his house, green eyes met blue ones and Ash smiled, briefly. Ian returned the smile. John was dead, and his murderer was standing in front of his son, grinning at the little boy.
A few months later, Ash and Jack started dating. Then they broke up. And got together again. Then he left. Then he came back. Then they started again. Then they stopped. It was a repetitive pattern, a cycle, until Alex was ten. Ash stopped coming altogether. Before he left, he had hugged Ian, whispering to him, "I got a promotion. I won't be seeing you again. But I'll still let you know what's going on in the Corp."
Ian had nodded, briefly hugging back for a moment, before watching Ash leave.
Letters came, sometimes e-mails. Or calls.
When Alex was fourteen, Ash messaged him again.
YG assigned to assist HS.
Proceed with caution. YG is Corp worker. Best there ever was.
Good luck.
—A
The writing was printed on a sticky note which someone had stuck on the inside of his suitcase as Ian was packing for his new msision involving Herod Sayle. So, John's infamous student was involved now?
Ian grinned as he looked at Alex. The blond boy was at football practice. It was time. Ian had trained Alex since he had taken over as legal guardian and he believed the boy was ready.
He scrawled out a quick note to Alex, leaving it in his bedroom, on his pillow, where it would be found later on.
Work calls.
Sorry,
Love you—Ian.
Maybe you should take an internship at the bank soon?
Guilty Pleasure, my one-shot. The idea was circulating around my head, but I finally got around to writing it a few days ago and uploaded it today.
Sorry for the delay, once again, on Glacier Blue. It's taking a lot of work, and I've switched it around a lot. It will be updated as soon as possible, when it's possible for me.
But, as always, thank you to the support and I'm glad to know that people like my work.
I'll honestly try.
Seriously.