Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider. Do I look like Anthony Horowitz to you?

Alan Blunt was sitting on his bed. He looked down and stroked his bedsheet. Gray, just like his job. Gray, just like his life. He stood up and walked into the bathroom. He ran his hand through his hair. Gray. He looked into the mirror. Gray eyes. He looked closer. Oh god. Was his face turning gray? He turned on the tap and scrubbed his face with his gray washcloth. Instead of turning red or raw, it just…faded. More gray. He let out a low guttural groan. Gray was taking over his life. His wife, who had a penchant for bright flowery clothing- the only source of colour in his life, hardly spoke to him anymore. They didn't sleep in the same room, let alone the same bed. He sighed and went to change out of his pyjamas (gray).

When he opened the door of his closet, a low guttural groan issued from his thin, grey was filled with suits ranging from pebble to chrome to slate. In other words, varying shades of gray. He sighed and picked out a suit the colour of a pre-rain sky. It could be pretty in its own way, but too much of it was beyond sickening. It was boring.

Next, he opened his underwear drawer. He was about to grab a regular pair of white briefs when his gaze landed on a hot pink pair. It had been stained hot pink when it had been accidentally thrown in the same washing machine as his wife's pair of cherry red hot pants. His hand hovered over it for a moment, tempted. But he just shook his head and shut the drawer after grabbing a white pair. After some contemplation, he opened the drawer and grabbed the pink pair as quickly as he could, before he could regret his decision. White WAS just another shade of gray.

~~~~linebreak~~~~

Having arrived at work, he sat down at his desk, looking through his in-tray. On his timetable, Mrs. Jones had scribbled in her neat handwriting "interview for gadget-man at 8.30". He checked the clock. It was 8.25. He picked up a clipboard and some paper, attached his favourite fountain pen to his breast pocket, and set off to Briefing Room A.

Already waiting was a lean brown-haired man fiddling with a mechanical pencil, mumbling to himself.

Upon seeing him enter, he hastily stuffed the mechanical pencil and its components into a little box, which he placed gently in his briefcase. He stood up and put his hand out. "Smithers. Derek Smithers. Good morning, Mr. …"

"Blunt." He made no move to shake Smithers's hand. He smirked mentally as he watched Smithers's smile twitch and fade. He cleared his throat and placed a box on the table, opened it, and placed the contents almost reverently on the table. Blunt raised an eyebrow. It appeared to be nothing more than a child's toy. It was a plastic submarine, painted gray. Blunt inwardly groaned at this.

It was studded with what looked like coloured glass. Blunt listened as Smithers explained the different functions that each button would trigger. He then picked up the thing, careful not to touch any of the buttons. He inspected it for a moment, and pointed at a red button that had a pair of pants and a downward pointing arrow .

"What is this for?"

His finger brushed it ever so slightly. Smithers made a grab for it as a bright flash of light temporarily blinded them. After it had gone and their eyes had gone back to usual, Smithers quickly took the device back, saying sheepishly, "I forgot to tell you, but all buttons are extremely sensitive."

Smithers looked him up and down. Blunt raised an eyebrow. Smithers laughed embarrassedly and apologized. "Terribly sorry, Mr. Blunt, but that button isn't…fully functional…" He gave another sheepish smile.

Blunt made a polite noise of acknowledgement. He quickly scribbled down on his clipboard: Clearly intelligent, but lacks discipline. Brought partially working device as portfolio, but device itself is remarkably impressive. He stood, pushing the chair back with the backs of his knees.

"Thank you for your time…and…" he realized Smithers was staring at his crotch. He looked down and realized his pants had fallen to his ankles. He hastily yanked them back up to an acceptable height. He looked coolly at Smithers, who was clearly stifling laughter. He quickly sobered back up and offered his hand out again. He pointedly looked at the proffered hand, and back at his own hands, which were fully occupied, one with carrying his clipboard and the other with holding his pants up. Smithers coughed awkwardly again and began packing up his stuff.

"We will consider your application, and will contact as you as soon as possible. Good day." He walked stiffly put of the room, trying to look as dignified as he could, which wasn't very much. At the door, he turned and said coldly, "I wouldn't mention this to anyone, if I were you." He left the room, closing the door. Then he stood there and waited. After a couple of minutes, he heard the inevitable laughter. He sighed.

"Alan, what are you doing here?" he turned and found Tulip Jones looking quizzically at him.

"Oh, nothing. Just done with an interview. I'll be going back to my office now." He strode off.

"Alan…"

"Yes?"

"Why are you holding your pants up?"

~~~~~~~~linebreak~~~~~~~~post scorpia rising~~~~~~~

Alex Rider was mindlessly surfing the internet, his head resting on one hand, and the mouse gripped in the other. A shrill 'ding' signalled the receipt of an email. Upon looking at it, he realized it was from the "Bank". He sighed, his cursor lingering over it. He resigned himself to the fact that MI6 would always be keeping track of him, although he wasn't their agent anymore. He took a deep breath before clicking on the email.

To his great relief, it was Smithers. It read:

Dear Alex,

Hello old chap! Hope you've been doing well in America. I found this video in the security camera video archive and thought you might enjoy it.

.

Ciao,

Smithers

P.S. this email will self-delete in 12 seconds, so I'd save the video if I were you.

The timer continued counting down. 11…10…9…Alex quickly clicked on the video and saved it. A window opened and it began playing. A slow smile spread across Alex's face.

AN: So hi. It's me, Fluffy. Hopefully you enjoyed my second Alex Rider oneshot. This oneshot would not have been here without my sister, who came up with the idea in the first place. Reviews would be very very welcome. Also, much thanks to Zynette and PoisonIvy1998 for reviewing and FreezingTime92 for favouriting Of Blondes and Bimbos.

Oh, before I go, my advice is to go into the Candy Mountain Cave and put a banana in your ear because Starfi- STARFISH REALLY LOVES YOU. Review if you get the reference!