DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything you recognize
Cracky 2000+ words ahead. Read with caution and wonder if I wrote this at 4 AM...because the answer is a solid, yep, when else would I be writing?
SHOPPING AND THURSDAYS
If anyone asked Alex to produce a list of his top ten most hated things, the first two things on his list would be 'shopping' and 'Thursdays,' and he had good reasons why. Thursdays were days of torment. First of all, Thursdays always taunted him with the promise that the week was nearly over, but of course, the week wasn't over, and Alex had to wait another whole day before he could kick back and relax. And he hated Thursdays because that's when he had to go into the Royal and General Bank to fill out paperwork—which, he never did get around to do because Jones (Blunt had retired a few years ago, and in his absence, Jones hadn't shown Alex the same pity that she did a mere five years ago) liked to assign him on new missions or throw him to the bloody wolves, alternatively known as the newbies because the more important agents were doing important work. Alex also knew that this important work involved a comfy car seat and delicious donuts. Now that he was thinking about it, he happened to dislike other agents and their squishy jobs relative to his. In addition to all of that (he huffed to himself just a little bit), Thursdays held the highest rate of near-death experiences (a whole, whopping thirty-two percent!) comparative to the other days of the week and most of these near-death experiences were due to homicidal lunatics with a weapon. No, Thursdays were never fun.
Shopping, perhaps, could come in second place, though it would be very close to tying for first place with Thursdays. Though he absolutely despised shopping for clothes, he loved browsing through books and games, so this was on a somewhat delicate scale. On one hand, he could spend countless hours reading the backs of every book or debate between buying two different games, but on the other, clothes shopping (or anything else he wasn't interested in) was an utter waste of time. He would rather spend the day dodging bullets or teaching little terrors (read: new MI6 agents). Unfortunately, this particular day was a combination of ring shopping and Thursday, which should have been Alex's first clue that he was in for a rough time.
"I just don't know what kind of ring I should get her!" Terrence Reyes, otherwise known as the fierce captain of K-Unit—Wolf—was clearly stressing out. He ran his fingers through his already short hair, pulling on the ends. Alex was afraid that he wouldn't have any hair by the end of this adventure, but he wisely stayed silent on that matter. Wolf might not have been his unit leader anymore, but Terrence was his friend and apparently, friends had special ass-kicking privileges… such as kicking his ass. Terrence paced around the displays, getting a worried look from the salesperson, who lingered by the center of the displays, always facing the stout man, as if he was afraid Terrence might pull a hammer out of his pocket and smash the cases. Alex contemplated that scenario for a moment before shaking his head. Terrence might have a temper at times, but he wouldn't act on it—at least, not like this. He would be smarter and break in at night after disarming the alarms. Alex was pulled away from his thoughts when Terrence started pacing circles around him. "Does she want a big diamond or a small one? Does she even like diamonds? Half a year ago, she said something about liking simplicity. How does it even get simple with diamonds? How is any of this simple? Double 'O Nothing—help!"
Alex was a bit wary at the crazed look in Terrence's eyes, but he nodded, saying in his best soothing voice, "Okay, okay. Let's think about it. Didn't you say a while back that she doesn't like to bring too much attention to herself?" He wasn't going to tell Terrence, but he knew exactly what his fiancé-to-be wanted. Alex didn't want to sound full of himself, but it was rather easy to deduce. He was sure Terrence could have picked it out if he wasn't so panicked about the mere fact that he had to pick it out. He suddenly had the strong urge to laugh in Terrence's face, but he had a strong suspicion that he would be gifted with a solid punch to the face. Or throat. It really depended on how crazed Terrence really was.
"Yes," Terrence's voice trailed off. No doubt he was trying to think back to previous conversations.
"So you should get her a diamond ring that looks simpler," Alex said, walking over to one of the displays.
Terrence followed, looking lost, "But her name is Emerald. Doesn't that mean I should get her, you know, an emerald?"
Alex fought back the urge to roll his eyes, "Terrence, you told me five minutes ago that she specifically told you that she does not want an emerald ring—or any kind of emerald jewelry at all."
Terrence stared blankly at the rings, a kind of horror enveloping him. Alex fought back the urge to take out his phone and begin taking pictures, and instead, waved over the salesperson to help the wide-eyed soldier. Alex turned around to stare at the other rings in awe, leaving the salesperson to help the slack-jawed man. The rings around him could probably pay for a really nice car. He had the urge to think about another hypothetical break-in, though he knew he was paid well enough to buy a very nice car for himself without having to commit a felony.
At that particular moment, a trio of men glided into the store, looking almost as nervous as Terrence. Alex wouldn't have paid them any mind if all three of them —mostly the two men flanking the first—hadn't been shaking in their own boots. And if he hadn't noticed them, he probably wouldn't have realized that the first man was his childhood bully—the one who had picked on him throughout the couple of months that he was there during primary school (before traveling, courtesy of MI6 missions, of course), then again, fueling gossip around Brookland Comprehensive about him and drug use. An irritated feeling buzzed to the surface of Alex's mind. He was indeed a drug addict, if one counted ibuprofen when his head hurt too badly.
Kevin Longshore hadn't changed much since the last time Alex had seen him, nearly five years ago. He still cut his hair in a ridiculous style that was meant to mimic a military cut, but only succeeded in making his head more potato-like. Comparing his cut to Terrence's, he had to grudgingly admit that Kevin could have looked like he belonged if he had more muscle definition—and a new attitude.
Alex turned away from them, looking at the display case closest to him. Was it too much to hope that Kevin had matured? Apparently so, because even as he leaned over the glass box to inspect a particularly sparkly ring, he could see Kevin's reflection coming towards him, his lips curling upward into a cold smile that Alex knew all too well. Alex really didn't know what it was about him that made Kevin want to target him, even after all these years. It was probably some kind of male dominance thing, he decided after a moment. A type of male dominance thing that he didn't want to take a part of, simply because he knew he had already won.
"Is that Alex Rider?" Kevin's smile looked downright psychotic now. "Not sick anymore, are you? I have to say that I'm surprised to see you walking around in a place like this. I would've thought you'd spend all your money on drugs—or that you'd overdosed and died."
Alex didn't look back at the man, and instead, opted to watch his reflection warily. It was the way that Kevin slurred certain words together or perhaps the faint scent of stale alcohol that let him know he was, at the very least, tipsy. He was remarkably self-sufficient despite his impaired mind.
"Are you still bitter that I managed to graduate and get accepted to a university?" Alex asked coolly, standing upright and facing the man. He hated bullies. "You should have more concern about your own future rather than mine."
Kevin's face reddened—in embarrassment or in anger, Alex couldn't tell.
"Is everything all right here?" Terrence had made his way over and now stood by Alex's side. He was shorter than Kevin, but the uniform and dark glare made up for it.
Kevin shot Alex another venomous look before backing down with a growl and retreating to his buddies.
"Friend of yours?" Terrence raised an eyebrow, and they simultaneously turned to look at the rings in the case before them. "Not very pleasant, is he?"
"Please," Alex made a face, "Never refer to that man as pleasant ever again."
The dark-haired man snorted.
"What about that one?" Alex pointed to the diamond ring in the very center of the case. It was a simple silver-banded ring with a small diamond embedded in the center. "Look, you can even add an inscription on the inside."
Terrence leaned closer for a look, making a noncommittal noise under his breath. The older man stared thoughtfully at the diamond while Alex's eyes wandered back onto Kevin and his two goons. The two 'friends'—Alex was unsure if Kevin could actually make any friends—looked more like muscular hit men or something of that nature. Something akin to alarm bells went off in the back of Alex's mind.
"Hey," he leaned closer to Terrence, "do they seem suspicious to you?"
Terrence looked at the trio who were examining a ring, "No, Alex, they're just normal people trying to buy a ring—just like me."
Alex wasn't convinced, "Are you sure? Today is a Thursday, you know."
Terrence rolled his eyes, "Are you serious right now?"
"Yes," Alex was firm. "You know that everything bad always happens on Thursdays."
"Whatever, kid," the older male stalked away to get the attention of the salesperson once more, who seemed to agree with Alex's statement, seeing as he was cowering behind the cash register.
Alex inspected the three men once more, tensing as they moved sideways to the next case. Were they really here to buy a ring? As he questioned their motives, Alex grew more suspicious. Was that a gun-shaped lump at the one man's side? Was he going to rob the store? The three men certainly seemed to need the money, not that Alex was judging them based on their old clothing or perhaps the nearly imperceptible scent of stale alcohol.
The man closest to Alex made a sudden move, and he stiffened, ready to act, if need be, but the man was just scratching the top of his shiny, bald head. Alex inched closer. The bulge at his hip seemed more and more like a gun-shaped object.
He walked closer so that he was directly behind them, pretending to inspect the rings.
"This is ridiculous," Kevin scoffed. "We could settle down in a new country if we had as much money as these diamonds are worth."
One of the men let out a rumbling chuckle, "Yeah, not like we're going to rob the store."
The other man started to laugh too, but Kevin cut them off with a sharp, "Are you two daft? You can't say things like that here. Plus, who would be dumb enough to do that in broad daylight? We always go at night, when it's harder to see our faces."
An admission of guilt!
"We might as well do it in broad daylight, if we're going to disappear from the country," the first man mumbled.
Alex had heard enough—this was the Thursday plot that he was going to foil. Maybe this wasn't the direct attempt on his life that he had expected, but they were going to hurt civilians! He wasn't going to stand for that.
Spinning around on his heel, Alex let out a warbling war cry and charged directly at the man with the gun-shaped lump at his hip. He slammed into the man, who was taken by surprise, and they both went toppling over onto the ground. The man's extra muscles made for a soft landing—at least, for Alex.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Terrence shouted from somewhere in the back.
"Arresting these three for admitting they were planning to rob the store!" Alex yelled back as he took advantage of stunned man below him to snatch the gun-shaped object out of his pocket. "Look, it's a…" Alex trailed off as he stared at the object, "a pocket handbook on gardening?"
"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"
Alex stared dumbly at the handbook, then up at the security guards. He had forgotten about them, as they were positioned outside of the store.
"He's crazy, I knew it!" Kevin was shouting furiously from somewhere behind him. "Get off of me!" An annoyed growl let him know that Terrence was doing his best to keep Alex's former classmate out of the fight.
"Um," Alex smiled sheepishly, dropping the handbook and lifting his hands up. "There's been a minor mistake, sirs…"
Twenty minutes later, as the spy was being processed at the police station, a certain Mr. Kevin Longshore glared heatedly at his two companions, "You imbeciles! Look at what you've done! We were supposed to lure him outside for the SCORPIA agents to do their jobs, not cause a scene!"
At the station, Alex stared forlornly at the one-way mirror across from his chair. Thursdays.
A/N: Hi guys! I thought I wouldn't have time to participate in the holiday fic-exchange, but I found a few extra minutes (read: I stayed up until 5 AM) and wrote this. It's cracky and OOC, but I had a blast as I was typing and giggling and generally having the time of my life, as I haven't had any time to write since I began college (*sadness and stress at the mention of the word*). Thanks for taking the time to read!