AN: It's unbetaed, but I had to post it. My first serious attempt at a crossover of any sort. (This will eventually be slash, in case anyone was curious. I know what it feels like to be shocked by sudden slash. :P) Dedications go out to the Firm!
Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider or Maximum Ride.
It took Alex four days of careful planning and light-footed snooping to gain access to the high security lab.
The first step was to plant eavesdropping devices at strategic points around his the compound. As a new employee, he didn't have the clearance for the interesting projects. He found, though, that people often talked about things they shouldn't in places they shouldn't, around those who shouldn't hear. Step one, after all, was the easy part.
The second step got a bit more difficult. He had to go through all of the useless information—who's wife was cheating on them, who's boyfriend was terrible in bed—and filter it into useable intel. All without attracting the notice of one Marian Janssen, who watched her facility like a hawk. Step two was tedious, especially after long days staring at computer screens that held nothing but useless numbers, and it took him nearly two days to find anything worthwhile.
Two off-duty guards, in a moment of stupidity, had a brief conversation about their schedules. From what Alex could figure, there was a good four minute window when the corridor he was interested in was left unguarded. Alex had shaken his head. One of the puzzle pieces wasn't fitting correctly—this was a high security facility. So why was the security nearly useless?
Step three took him to the forbidden door, in the long corridor. On his tour of the compound, his guide had brushed it by, not even mentioning what the obviously high-security entrance was guarding. For God's sake, there wasn't even a handle! He had known immediately that he would look there first for the "bioweapons" that Blunt was so concerned about.
So on the fourth night of his mission, Alex emerged from his tiny flat—apartment, he reminded himself, he was in America—on the compound's grounds and retraced his steps, careful to avoid the patrolled sections.
He approached his destination with his breath held. Distantly echoing footsteps told him the guard was walking away from his sentry point, to make another run through the circuitous halls. Alex's mind flashed absurdly to a physics lesson he had had with a tutor, right before his A levels. The guard's fading footsteps were a perfect example of the Doppler Effect. He shook his head and slipped around the corner.
The door—solid steel, by the looks of it—seemed to glow as he approached it, in the total darkness of the hall. The keypad next to it did glow, the numbers standing out in an eerie shade of light green. Alex shook his head—only a number keypad. For something so obviously important, he expected much more. Perhaps even a full keyboard. He shook off the uneasy feeling and went to work. He only had three more minutes.
Alex took a pen from his pocket and twisted the cap. Putting his Smithers-gifted torch between his teeth, he went into his other pocket for his container of lip balm.
Or rather, his container of titanium dioxide. Unscrewing the top (Smithers, bless him, was bright enough to know that Alex would not be wanting any sort of cover that would pop when he removed it), he rubbed a bit on each key before covering it again and putting it back in his pocket.
After a few seconds, imprints began to appear on four keys. Two minutes left. Titanium dioxide was a powdery compound that police used in investigations to uncover fingerprints, but Alex had found that it had plenty of uses elsewhere.
"If you look at any keyboard carefully, Alex, you'll find that most people touch the keys of their password more frequently than any other keys. After that it only takes a few educated guesses to get into someone's files. That's doubly true for any password system—but then, the only keys that are used are the ones that are entered. That's why any good security system changes the password daily."
Smithers and his uncle Ian had apparently shared the same brain. Smithers, though was also gifted with the knowledge that could take the guesswork out: the brighter the white powder ended up, the earlier in the password sequence it was. (Smithers had started to explain it to him—something about the force with which people pressed the buttons—but Jones had spirited him away before Alex had the opportunity to absorb it.)
Fortunately for Alex, the entire code was easily visible in the dim light. The nine key glowed the brightest, followed by the seven, three and four. The other keys didn't glow at all. So, holding his breath, Alex entered the combination. One minute.
Nine three seven four. For ten seconds, there was nothing. He held his breath and crossed his fingers, contingency plans forming in the back of his head. But then he heard a deep, echoing click, followed by... silence. Thirty seconds. If it didn't open now, he wouldn't have time to get away before the guard returned. He was frozen, penlight in his mouth, when the door finally whooshed opened.
Holding his breath, he slipped through, pushing the door closed behind him. He grabbed his penlight and twisted the cap until it turned off. The entrance was remarkably empty and well lit. He had to blink several times before his eyes adjusted to the sudden flood of brightness.
He was just going to take a quick look—eleven minutes, to be exact. That was when the guard would begin his loop again. Eleven minutes was plenty of time to get the feel of the place and sneak quietly back into his room before morning. Go in, observe, get out. The interesting stuff would happen later.
Of course, it took a grand total of about four seconds for his entire plan to go to shit.
His eyes had barely adjusted before someone with their face in a clipboard, walking from a perpendicular hallway, ran straight into him. Alex saw the woman's eyes go wide behind her glasses before she opened her mouth. Alex didn't give her time to scream, squeezing the pressure point in between her neck and shoulder that would knock her unconscious. Fortunately, she fell like a sack of potatoes, Alex catching her and lowering her to the ground as to muffle the sound. Unfortunately, as he found out seconds later, she wasn't alone.
Her companion could only be a few years older than he was, Alex thought. With his sculpted face, muscular build and lack of lab coat, however, Alex had reason to doubt that he was a scientist—"lab technician!" Janssen's hiss echoed in his ear—here at Delphi Industries.
When he snarled, Alex knew he wasn't just an employee. The man's canines looked decidedly canine; sharp and solid. Alex felt himself lower into a defensive position, his legs wide and hands low.
The other man didn't look intimidated in the least. Rather, he turned his head so that his neck cracked and offered Alex an almost feral grin. Wary, Alex felt his hands bunch into fists. He barely had time to blink before the man was running at him, claws extended.
Alex had only just registered the claws when the man—thing—suck them deep into his shoulder, twisting Alex to the side. He grunted and raised his other fist, aiming for the face. There was no such thing as a low blow in a fight like this.
It collided easily, but Alex's hand bounced back. The thing—it now had a fully formed muzzle—yanked its claws out of Alex's shoulder and went for his face. Alex ducked and head butted its stomach, putting all of his weight into the move.
Nothing happened. Instead of falling like it was supposed to, the creature remained standing, although it did sound winded. Alex punched a kneecap and the thing howled in pain. It swiped at him with lethal-looking claws, but Alex managed to dodge them and send the creature spinning with a well-placed kick.
What the hell was this thing? As Alex backed away, he began to see it more clearly. The image didn't reassure him. It looked like...well; to be honest it looked a bit like a werewolf. Humanoid in stature, but coated with a wiry grey fur and a muzzle that extended a good six inches from the end of its now-wolfish face, he could think of no other explanation.
The thing turned back with a snarl, its yellow eyes flashing. It came barrelling toward Alex, bounding on four limbs. He spun wildly but could find nowhere to hide. Within another second, it had him pinned to the ground.
Its breath was horrid. Like a mixture of rotting flesh and something decaying, it flooded his nostrils until he felt like he was going to be sick. Its claws started to puncture the skin on his arms slowly, so slowly that Alex could feel all ten pierce individually. He struggled but it was useless. He wasn't moving.
Alex made a desperate swing at his pocket at the creature's face approached his own. Thankfully it was going slowly. He could deal with pain if it meant he would live.
He felt around in his pocket, ignoring the lip balm and penlight. Those were surveillance tools. They would be worse than useless next to this monster. Through the piercing pain as the claws found bone, his fingers finally grasped what he was looking for.
The business card looked normal, but the edges were nearly sharp enough to cut through steel. With a grunt of pain as the creature began to remove its claws, he placed it between his index and middle finger, ignoring the cut he got along the way. Holding his breath, he flung the card up.
The creature howled and backed away, its claws making a snick sound as they left Alex's arms. It was bleeding freely, but the cut wasn't very large—not fatal, then, Alex thought as he scrambled back to his feet, ignoring his own eight cuts.
The thing's eyes flashed as it turned back to Alex, slipping in its own blood. He set his jaw. He had no more weapons—no way to beat this nightmarish thing. He no way to escape, and nowhere to hide. The creature seemed to know this, for it took its time to amble back to him, leaving bloody footprints on the pristine white floor.
There was a sudden crash somewhere behind the creature. It turned its head for the shortest second before it resumed its walk toward Alex's spot.
Suddenly, Alex heard a voice.
"Go for the eyes! Its got sensitive eyes!"
Alex immediately registered the voice as unfamiliar—male; not a child and not an adult—before his hand groped for another moment in his pocket, coming up with his lip balm container. His fingers felt like stone as he tried to unscrew the top, watching the creature stalk toward him.
The cap flew off and he heard it bounce on the floor before settling to a stop. Wielding nothing but a container of lip balm—titanium dioxide, really—he felt woefully unprepared. The beast was taking its time. Alex swore he saw the thing grin.
But there were no other options. Halfway across the room, it pounced. Alex ducked and rolled under it, sliding in the blood from its cut. When the creature turned to face him, Alex wielded his lip balm—feeling ridiculous—and shoved it in the thing's eye.
The howl shook his bones. Not waiting for it to recover, Alex struck its other eye. It lashed out blindly, but Alex easily avoided the strikes. Its snarls echoed in the hallway, and Alex had to wonder why no one else had come running.
He didn't question his good fortune, however. Instead he darted into the room the female scientist had exited and grabbed the rolling chair that sat behind the desk. Alex wheeled it back into the hall, where the beast was circling, disoriented.
At the sound of the chair, the thing turned. It snarled in Alex's direction, but blinded, its strike was so off it collided with the wall. Alex lifted the chair above his head and brought it down quickly over the creature's muzzle. It collapsed with an enormous thud, and the corridor was suddenly silent once more.
Alex's heart beat quickly on, his adrenaline unaware that the danger was now gone. He took a breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth. That had been...surreal. He took another glance at the creature out of the corner of his eye, picking up his razor-thin business card from the ground, and made his way through a different doorway—where he had heard the crash and the voice.
This area was still brightly lit, but it was not as utilitarian as the other sections he had passed. Instead of stark white paint, the walls were instead stacked with crates that reached the high ceiling. There were thin, metal pathways snaking their way around the room, presumably to be walked on. Alex realized suddenly that it wasn't boxes lining the walls—it was dog crates. It took his ears another sickening moment to register that this area was far from silent, as he had determined earlier. The dog crates had occupants.
There was a blemish to the fantastical arrangement of it all, though—one crate had come loose, and was sitting in the middle of the floor, only a few metres in front of him. He walked toward it slowly, curious.
Dark eyes peered out at him. Alex slowly reached into his pocket, where he had stowed the business card. Without speaking, he cut the lock off of the crate, never taking his eyes off its inhabitant.
The teenager emerged soundlessly, standing up straight so suddenly that several vertebrae cracked. He was even taller than Alex, who at 18, had been deemed 'tall for his age.' His dark hair was falling into his face, which was olive-toned and serious. He was thin, and there were dark bags under his eyes, along with several purple bruises. For several moments they did nothing but observe one another.
Alex stuck out his hand. "Alex."
He looked, but didn't take it. "Fang. What're you doing here?"
Alex bit the inside of his cheek. After a moment's hesitation, he threw caution to the wind. "I'm working under the assumption that you're not exactly on good terms with the people here, given the fact that you were in a cage."
The other boy snorted. "You could say that."
"Then I can tell you. I'm a spy. I'm trying to figure out what's going on here. If Delphi Industries is really who they say they are."
Fang raised an eyebrow. "Do you have it figured out yet?"
Alex shook his head, never taking his eyes off Fang. "No. But I'm thinking you might be able to help me there."
Fang didn't respond. Instead, he moved to take off his shirt. Alex watched, puzzled.
His puzzlement only lasted a few seconds before it was replaced by complete incredulity. For underneath Fang's shirt, there were...wings.
The great black feathery things extended almost the entire width of the walkway, the left one brushing against the cages on the wall. Alex watched in amazement as Fang stretched them, a grimace on his face.
Fang looked back to Alex, his dark eyes unreadable. "Understand yet?"
Alex nodded slowly, his head spinning. "This brings a whole new meaning to the word 'bioweapon.'"