A/N: Welcome to my first of what I hope to be several fanfics. Now please just bare with me while I specify a few things.

1) I read the books in French. I go to a French college, and therefore I might make a few mistakes concerning character and mission names. I don't believe it will happen, as I usually research the information before I write it, but just in case you find anything, let me know via the review feature.

2) I'm Canadian, not British. Although I do not speak or write entirely in American English, I do not write entirely in British English. I will do my best to make sure everything is easy to understand in both "dialects", but if ever there's something you don't understand, you can just ask me either through a review or a PM, and I will get back to you ASAP. I will also often try to add a glossary at the end of every chapter as a disambiguation of sorts, for words that I believe could be confusing for either "dialect".

3) I have read several Alex Rider fanfics so far, and although I have not stumbled upon a story with a similar plotline as BlackOut, this does not mean that such story does not exist. If you find or own anything similar to my writing, please let me know either via a review or a PM and I will do my best to rectify the situation, although all my ideas come from the voices inside my head... o.O

4) I do not own any of the Anthony Horowitz characters or missions. If I did, I wouldn't be living in a 1700 square-foot house.

5) I will only get better with your help. If ever something seems wrong with the story, or a character seems OOC, let me know and I'll try to rectify it.

Now, without further ado, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

BlackOut

Chapter 1: The graveyard shift

John Kent had never been fond of working the graveyard shift. Not only did it keep him from spending time with his loved ones during the day because their sleeping patterns were reversed, but it also made him feel like an imbecile to be working when seemingly the entire world was nestled in its bed. Well, not the entire world. After all, his partner, Viktor Kokorev was in the van with him.

As the vehicle came to a stop in front of an enclosed compound, John Kent cursed under his breath for accepting the task he was assigned. Then again, it wasn't as though he had the choice, what with four children and a wife to support. The thirty-eight-year-old man and his silent partner stepped out of the van and, while Kokorev went to unlock the gate, John headed to the back of the van. He opened the boot of the vehicle and only pulled out his tool belt, unsure of what to expect on the other side of the fence. His superior had told him this would be a routine job; that all that would be needed was the twist of a screw-driver here, the addition of a wire there, and all would be good. He didn't believe that for a second. For anyone to accept working the night shift, it was always necessary to sugar-coat the task at hand. When his partner came back, gave him a look that said it all, and grabbed the heavy toolbox located on the right side of the van, John knew he was right.

As they left the van, John handed the keys to Kokorev, as he would be the one driving back to headquarters. Slowly, they walked into the compound and took a look around, by which time John had managed to locate the source of the problem with the help of the error reports he had been handed before leaving. He gestured towards a component in the middle of the yard, next to the main transformer and they painstakingly made their way to it, at all times making sure not to touch any of the other electrical components in the compound. John lifted a brow as Kokorev, against regulations, laid the ponderous toolbox next to the main transformer. He didn't say anything though, as this would be a long night, and the last thing they needed was to be at each other's throats throughout the whole shift.

They started with the general inspection of the component, which was required to make sure the problem wasn't densely obvious. The moon was shining brightly, and thankfully, for the first time in days, there were only a few sparse clouds in the sky, yet the lighting was far from sufficient for them to do their job properly. Each of the men pulled out their electric torch and went about inspecting the key sections of the electric equipment, crossing off the inspected areas from their respective lists. When their search yielded no satisfactory results, the men decided to take a break before starting a more detailed analysis. After pointing out how fastidious it was to carry a torch-light and a clipboard whilst having to inspect every inch of the equipment, Kokorev's rose to go get the spotlight they had left in the back of the truck. He came back a few minutes later and they set back to work with new lists of more precise verifications to make, at which point they were already two hours into their shift. Although these new lists were a lot longer and more difficult to complete, they averaged the same amount of time per point as with the other list, John remarked.

"Kokorev's observation was actually beneficial," John thought, as Kokorev broke into a triumphal dance.

Puzzled by the face that Kokorev could read his mind, John shot him a suspicious look, only to find the young Russian was pointing towards a loose piece on the side of the component. Although it was interesting to imagine that his partner could read his mind, it was much more plausible that he had just located the source of the problem. Ergo, John walked over to see what the tall man was dancing about.

"John, look at this," was all he said.

"Good work Viktor! It doesn't seem too big a problem, just a bit tricky. I'll go get the toolbox and we should be out of here in half an hour, provided this is the only problem we have on our hands. After all, we mustn't forget to continue our complete inspection once this is fixed," he said, only to find Kokorev was blocking his path. "Sorry, could you please step aside so…"

Kokorev cut him off. "I'll get it," he said coolly, adding, under his breath, "this is bigger than us both."

John Kent raised a brow but, once again, said nothing as he watched Kokorev wobble his way to the other side of the component, and vanish from sight. John waited tensely whilst he heard his partner rummage through the toolbox. Finally, Kokorev's loud search subsided to a constant beeping sound. John looked at his watch, wondering why it would be ringing at this late hour, only to find it was not responsible for the ringing. He moved to the other side of the component, walking towards the toolbox, where the sound seemed to be coming from, only to find Kokorev had once again vanished from sight. A worrisome expression made its way onto John's face as the beeping grew faster and faster. He ran to the toolbox only to find it locked, and which point he yelled for his partner.

"Viktor, where are you!?" No answer. "KOKOREV!!" he yelped.

A confident response came from afar. "I told you this was bigger than us both!"

As he heard the distinct sound of the van's engine starting, John looked around for anything to pry the toolbox open, afraid of knowing what it contained. At that very moment, as he glanced at the hammer dangling from his tool belt, the ringing stopped.

The explosion was devastating. As Viktor Kokorev made his way down the road, he looked in his side-view mirror in time to see the compound and surrounding building go up in smoke, as an immense ball of fire rose towards the sky. Smiling from ear to ear for having completed his part of the deal, he looked back in front him to see all of downtown shut down as the electricity was cut off. He looked at his watch.

"Right on time…" he thought. "Now let's hope the others do their job properly."

Alan Blunt sighed. Being head of Special Operations at MI6 wasn't as easy as he made it seem. This was the fourth night in as many days that he had stayed at the office overnight to keep working. His department's most recent endeavours had generated a lot of paperwork, and he needed to work overtime if he also wanted to keep track of its current covert operations. There were three of them, hence the three documents he had opened on his screen.

The first one consisted mainly of a diagram filled with names, all linked between each other, that represented the structure of an Egyptian weapons-dealing organisation they intended on dismantling. His men had been trying to infiltrate the ring for months and had just managed to do so. It was therefore essential that Blunt keep a close eye on the operation, in order to make sure that everything went according to plan. After all, only a few missions aren't usually expected to go according to plan, but in those times, MI6 always called in one of their more talented agents, a very peculiar fourteen-year-old. Blunt was receiving updates every hour and adjusted his diagram according to the information he received.

The second document contained information concerning a mission of a less sophisticated nature, which would be summarised as the assassination of a German-born pro-communist terrorist in North Korea in later paperwork. Although the mission was easier to describe, it was no less complicated to execute, mainly due to the difficulty of crossing the country's borders. It was a well-known fact that the border between North and South Korea was one of the most dangerous places to be on Earth, as it is a no man's-land of epic proportions, running 250 kilometres by 4 kilometres, on each side of which can be found a very heavy concentration of military personnel of both North and South Korea, making it the most heavily armoured border in the world. Sending any MI6 operative through that zone could be considered murder, which is why Blunt had opted for an infiltration from the North, through the Chinese-Korean border. It had been rather difficult to organise, but now that everything was planned, including the operatives' escape, it should go down smoothly. Therefore, Blunt was soon going to give the go-ahead for the mission to be fully executed, so to speak.

Finally, Blunt opened the third document, and, as he did so, found himself immersed in complete darkness. He immediately picked up his phone only to find that he couldn't get a line. After a moment's hesitation, the head of Special Operations rose from his seat and walked over to his bullet-proof window to look out from the sixteenth floor, only to find the whole sector was pitch-black. He stared outside for a few seconds as some buildings were starting to light up again, presumably running on their backup generators. This could be said of the Royal and General Bank, for a few seconds later, Blunt was back at his desk booting up his desktop once more. He picked up the black phone on his desk and was pleased to find that he could immediately hear a dial tone. He punched a number and, after letting the phone ring for about a minute, heard an annoying little voice telling him that Security could not be reached at the current time, and to please leave a message after the beep.

Calmly, he spoke into the phone. "This is Alan Blunt. Call me in my office as soon as you have performed a security check."

And, as though the past few minutes had never even occurred, he turned back to his screen and typed in his username and password and set back to work. He sent out the orders for the completion of the mission relative to the German-born terrorist, then read the last update from his team in Cairo and subsequently added another level to the ironically pyramidal structure of the organisation, typing the name Akil Badawi in the new section he had just added. He then lay back for a few seconds until an incessant tapping sound grew very unpleasant, at which point, frustrated, he opened his eyes to find the noise was a result of his fingers fidgeting and tapping his desk. Finally deciding the past five minutes had been ample time for the security staff to perform a routine system check, Blunt once again picked up his phone and dialled the same number he had a few minutes before, but hung up as someone knocked on the door to his office.

In his usual calm manner, Blunt went to open the door, after verifying with the help of the camera located on the other side of it that the person knocking was an MI6 employee.

"You people at Security are so incompetent!" he barked. "Not only did I call you over five minutes ago, but I also recall having asked you to CALL me, not to waste time coming to my office."

"I know sir but…" the man replied, before Blunt cut him off again.

"I don't care for your excuses, just tell me what you've found. Start with the cause of power outage," he ordered.

"Well sir, first of all, the power outage was caused by an explosion as a transformation depot about twenty minutes from here. It is unknown whether the cause was accidental or intentional, but the electric company says they had a repair crew on site at the time of the explosion," the security employee let out in one breath, clearly aching to say more.

Paying very little attention to the man's anxiety, Blunt spoke again. "Very well, I want you to head back to Security and call in backup. I don't believe in coincidences, and if we lost power, it's for a reason. I want every centimetre of this building cleared, so use every man you can to do so. Dismissed."

"But sir.." the young man whined, refusing to leave and making his anxiety clear by jumping from foot to foot.

"Did you not hear me!?" Blunt groaned. "It is never a good idea for you to be contradicting me, but this is particularly not a good time for it. I don't want to fire you, but so help me, I will if you keep it up. Do you understand?"

Blunt turned around and headed back for his desk.

"Yes sir, but we have a security breech!" the man yelped, finally deciding to say what he had to say.

"What!?" roared Blunt. "Why didn't you tell me about this before!?"

"Well sir, you never…" the man tried to respond, but was cut off once again.

"There's no excuse for your incompetence this time. Just tell me now."

"Very well sir," the security officer started. "When the generator started up, our security system booted a few seconds after the central servers. It seems that this was sufficient for someone to gain access to classified files. "

"What!?"

"Well sir, they obviously knew what they were doing and what they wanted, because there's no way they could have reached these files in such a short time, nor could they have stumbled upon them by accident. Sir, whoever did this had to know the power outage was going to occur before it did. Now clearly, we will be changing the boot sequence, but…"

"Which files?"

"Pardon me sir?"

"Which damned classified files did the scum manage to get a hold of?" Blunt asked, clearly out of patience for the inept officer in front of him.

"Well actually sir, they only wanted one file," the man stated, analysing Blunt's reaction.

"Spill it out," Blunt ordered, growing overly agitated.

"It's a personnel file sir," the small man said. "By the name of Alex Rider."