ALEX RIDER
-- IN --
THE BROKEN STORM
by Myrtle the Tyrtle
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Disclaimer: I own nothing, including a full set of Alex Rider books, excluding the plot. Woe is me.
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Chapter One.
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It's never good when you arrive home from school to find a fleet of police cars outside your house. This was the case when Alex Rider found his way back home one Thursday afternoon. It had taken a tad longer than usual: mainly because the bullies that made his life a living hell had chased him to the other side of town. Seeing the three – no, four – police cars parked in the drive made him instantly forget the fact he had been picked last for soccer at break, again.
He manoeuvred through the hastily parked cars, and made his way to the front door. There was no need to knock: his uncle's housekeeper Jack always made sure the door was unlocked after 3pm, no matter how paranoid of ninjas he was.
"I'm home!" he called, and turned into the kitchen to come face to moustached face with a tall copper.
"Mr Rider, I presume?" said the policeman.
"Yes," answered Alex hesitantly.
"My name is Constable Jeremy Wells. You may want to sit down. We have some grave news."
He led Alex into the sitting room, where a handful of more policemen were seated. Alex lowered himself delicately into a chair – his limbs still hurt from the chase and beating which followed – and looked at the policeman to begin.
"I'm very sorry, Alex," he began, "but your uncle has skipped town."
Alex was shocked. He had never been very close to the middle-aged lawyer, but he was the only family he had, since his parents had died in a plane crash when he was a baby.
"Why?" he choked.
"He was having sexual relations with this woman," answered Constable Wells, holding up a black and white photograph. "Her name was Karen Hughes – Mrs Karen Hughes. According to our sources, Mr Hughes found out this morning. He came to kill your uncle with a pistol we have located. Fortunately, perhaps, your uncle John got away with his girl. Mr Hughes promptly shot himself in the upstairs bedroom."
'Think of something to say!' thought Alex's brain. He said the first thing that came into his head. "Wow. My uncle Ian sure had it good."
The constable looked puzzled. "Er, yes. Now because your uncle has fled the country illegally, he has been declared technically dead. His will has come into play… only it doesn't leave you much. All his belongings were signed over last week to Mrs Hughes – and all her belongings have been donated to the Breast Cancer Foundation. You will be able to sort through what you wish to salvage before it is carted away."
"What about me? What's happening with me?"
Constable Wells consulted the multiple paged will. "'The care of my nephew, Alex Rider, is to be passed to the housekeeper Jack Lee.' Who is Jack Lee?"
"The housekeeper," Alex replied in a voice that conveyed his opinion that the constable wasn't all there. "He's almost seven foot tall, with a long black ponytail. He's an Asian."
"You mean this man?" one of the other policemen held up a photograph.
"Yeah, that's him."
"Oops. We, ah, kind of chased him off the property when we arrived. We, um, thought he was a vagrant."
"Where is he now?"
The policeman shrugged. "I'd suggest you get one of your uncle's associates to track him down. We've got enough on our hands at the moment – can you believe the donut manufacturers are on strike?"
He turned and went back through the kitchen and out the front door. The other policemen followed, and Alex was left alone in the quiet house.
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It was dark when Alex woke, yet the clock showed 9:42. This puzzled the boy for a minute, before he realised it was still night. He flicked the light on, and went to look at the mirror.
Staring back at him were a pair of piercing blue eyes surrounded by yellow-purple bruises. Alex tried to cover the bruises with his dark blonde hair (short at the front, long at the sides and back), but to no success. He decided his energies would be spent better making and eating some food, and climbed the stairs down to the kitchen.
"That's funny," he said softly, halfway down the stairs. "The lights are on." Creeping more cautiously now, he swung over the banister and jumped into the kitchen.
"Freeze!" he yelled. "Who goes there?"
An Asian man raised his peanut butter covered hands immediately, eyes wide with shock. When he realised it was just Alex a burst of exited Taiwanese flowed easily from his lips.
"Only Jack," sighed Alex, and went to the pantry to find some food. Boycotting the peanut butter, he decided on some chicken left over from last night. He tucked in hungrily, only to be interrupted by the telephone.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Alex. It's just me."
"D-d-d-d-dan!"
"Yeah. D-d-d-dan. Listen, you'd better be coming to school tomorrow, coz I was a tad dissatisfied after our little game today. I was hoping we could play the same thing again at break."
"Go away you big meanie!" Alex slammed the phone down, and no sooner had he picked up his chicken, it began to ring again.
He summoned up his courage, and shouted, "I told you to leave me alone!" down the receiver.
"Actually, Mr Rider, we would prefer it if that didn't happen." Alex was surprised to hear a woman's voice – cool, calm and in control.
"Sorry about that, er… who exactly are you?"
"Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mrs Jones. I worked with your uncle, and I am extremely upset and sympathetic for the way he left you."
"Mmm." Alex could tell she wasn't done yet.
"However, your uncle's disappearance has left us in a bit of a predicament. Could you perhaps come by our offices in Liverpool St tomorrow after school, perhaps? We could send a taxi?"
Alex thought back to his first call. "I'll be over at ten in the morning," he said. "And I'll take the tube."
"Excellent. Looking forward to seeing you there."
Alex rested the phone back on the cradle. He was now feeling to sick to eat, and left the chicken on the bench before returning to the bliss that was sleep.
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A/N: Well, if you've made it this far, you've either read the whole thing or prefer author's notes to stories. Either way, I'd love it if you reviewed what you just read.
Myrtle.