I don't actually own Alex Rider. And any resemblance to what you know as the truth is coincidental. You can't possibly know my Truth. It's classified.
The man watched the faces of the people boarding the plane, careful to keep his face expressionless, eyes dull. The prosthetics on his face itched a bit, but it wouldn't due to be recognized, not when this much was on the line .
Alex shuffled aboard the plane with his carry-on in one hand, sighing at the line of people in front of him. He was reluctant to board. Reluctant to leave San Francisco when he had just managed to forget, forget the whisper of flames through the ashy remains of the vehicle, forget the feeling of the gun jumping in his hand as he shot Julius Grief… He hated it. But he had to return. Before, he swallowed hard. Before he hadn't even had a chance to pack. The memories had been too strong. Now he had to go through it all. He owed it to Jack's family. He was supposed to meet her stepbrother there. As he headed toward the airplane, he wondered if the Starbright's blamed him. If they somehow knew it was his fault. He sighed heavily, passing now into the first class seating.
The instructions had said the boy would be seated in K-17.
Alex glanced at his ticket and down at the seat in front of him. Having hefted his carry-on into the compartment, the person with the window seat next to him had still not arrived. He prepared to sit down anyways.
"Excuse me," The boy was tall, taller than Alex with serious eyes, broad shoulders, and long, spidery fingers. "I was wondering if we might switch places, you see, I've been assigned the window seat, and flying isn't really my thing..."
Without acknowledging him, Alex moved over to the window seat.
The man slipped inconspicuously into the plane, buttoning the top button on his newly donned flight attendant uniform and brushing past security with a slick grin. The prominent nose from before was now short and squashed and where before he had been clean-shaven, he now had a thick, bristly mustache, prominent enough that it would be the feature most easily recalled by any witnesses. Of course, it was fake. He slid into the bathroom as the plane prepared to take off, out of sight so that he wouldn't be noticed during all of the hustle and bustle of lift off. Once the plane was in the air, he would find the boy.
As the plane engine rumbled and the 'fasten your seatbelts' signs stopped flashing, Alex grinned sympathetically at the queasy looking boy beside him. "That bad, huh?"
A gleam of life hit the other boy's tired hazel eyes as he groaned, gritting his teeth. "I can't look as bad as I feel, can I?"
Alex's doubtful gaze was easy to interpret.
The boy groaned again and pulled his leather jacket tighter, the illumination of the airline s incandescent bulbs casting bruise-like shadows across his green-hued complexion. His strong jaw was knotted as though in pain. Guess so then. "The name's Wes, by the way."
Alex offered Wes a smile back. "Airsick?"
Brushing his thick, chestnut-colored hair back into a sweaty disarray, Wes offered Alex a haunted look. "Fear of flying. You'd think I wouldn't have a problem, I've climbed some of the tallest peaks in the Himalayas. As long as I'm connected to the ground I'm fine but..." He gestured hopelessly to his own hunched over state as though it were self-explanatory. It was.
"I had a friend like you once," Alex tried to distract Wes. "I could have sworn Wolf wasn't afraid of anything, he was enough of a bastard to know that everything was afraid of him. Then one day during tr- One day, we went skydiving. The look on his face," Alex chuckled. "In a way it scared me more than it scared him. He always seemed so infallible. But no one's too young to die."
Alex had forgotten his companion. Next to him, Wes sent the boy a half-questioning, half-commiserating look. The movement drew Alex out of his thoughts. Brown eyes suddenly twinkled mischievously, Alex's demeanor changing in a second. "I kicked him out of the plane, you know."
Wes stomach churned uncomfortably. "You what?"
"I kicked him out of the plane. What can I say, I'm accident prone."
"Oh. I went base jumping, once. Accidently caused a twenty-car pile-up." The comment was offhand and pure Wes. Alex looked surprised then offered his own counter.
"I've done both of those things, though not at the same time. I also dived in a shipwreck, once. Got trapped." The competition was on. Wes smiled, forgetting his fear of flying for a minute.
"I've been spelunking, got lost and happened upon a major cartel's drug stash."
"I've flown a plane and crashed it." And possibly shot at the Prime Minister. The devil's in the details.
"I've crashed one into a building. Apparently it s not wise for someone who's afraid of flying to attempt to get a pilot's license..." Alex raised his eyebrows at this revelation.
"I accidentally blew up the science wing at my school." Yeah, when he said it like that, excluding the whole being-chased-by-a-psychotic-clone-with-a-gun-and-a-vendetta thing, it didn't sound half bad.
"I accidentally rammed a truckload of potassium chlorate into a vehicle transporting sour gummy worms. Boom."
"I fell into a giant fish tank with a Portuguese Man of War." Fell wasn't quite the right word.
"Ah, Physalia physalis. No brain, no anus." Wes nodded in surprised understanding. "Shark tank during feeding time. I hate field trips."
"White water rafting accident, went over a waterfall." O.k., so sure, he kayaked over a waterfall to avoid a psychopath and save the world. Schemantics.
"Bungee jumping, forgot the cord. That one wasn't my fault..."
"Skied down a mountain and onto a train." So yeah, maybe it was snowboarding, on an ironing board, while outrunning bullets, but since when did that pertain to the conversation?
It was Wes' turn to raise his eyebrows, but he was prepared.
"Jumped my '72 Norton 750 Commando off the top of a skyscraper."
"Touché." Alex inclined his head in Wes direction. "How many floors?"
Wes smirked, ignoring the question. "Who are you, anyway?"
Alex smiled. "You can just call me Alex."
"Ok, Alex, and twenty-three floors."
Alex raised his eyebrows. "Damn. I'm not even going to ask how you got out of that one."
Wes flashed some teeth in his most genuine smile, a smile that seemed oddly familiar to Alex. "Don't bother. It's classified."
Alex stifled a snort. As if the boy next to him had any idea about what classified meant.
"What about the train deal?"
Alex turned towards the window, hiding his grin. "Classified."
An old man headed towards the bathroom, unaware that he was being observed. He was the perfect target. His ring finger was bare so no one to search for him and a cap on his head that the watcher could use to hide any imperfections in the prosthetics the man would use to simulate similar facial features. He followed the old man into the tiny airplane restroom, clicking the door shut behind him. It happened before the old man ever had a chance to scream.
When the stopover flight landed in Atlanta, Alex shook Wes hand and prepared to exit the plane. Someone brushed by him as they walked past. Alex's eyes flew up, but it was just an elderly gentleman. He frowned as Wes walked off, followed by the elderly gentleman. Something felt off. Alex shook his head, certain he must have imagined the peculiar feeling and ignoring his memory of the last time he had felt this way. Just because he was headed back to England did not mean anything was bound to happen. He was done with all that right?
As Alex slowly strolled into the terminal, sixteen year old Wesley Starbright, otherwise known as Wes, rushed forward to meet his connecting flight, too distracted to notice the man who had been observing him, watching his every move...