Summary: SCORPIA has been thwarted by Alex Rider once again but this time, the fallout is much more lethal. A rogue assassin with unknown ties to SCORPIA has been captured by MI6. Fifteen years old and already a killer, Jamuti has been trained her whole life to be the lethal weapon SCORPIA wanted her to be. With MI6 wanting her and Alex to investigate a school accused of selling drugs to students that cause madness and hallucination, and the remains of SCORPIA breathing down their necks, it's a desperate game of survival, betrayal and knowing who to trust.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider series. This right belongs to Anthony Horowitz. However, the story line which I have developed should not be plagiarized or duplicated without my permission. The characters all belong to Anthony Horowitz. However, what they do in this story is in my control and I do not appreciate plagiarism. Also, Jamuti belongs to me. She is my original character. I do not support all the ideas in this story. There may be dark parts later on in the story with sensitive, triggering subjects and I will give warnings in the chapter before and at the beginning of that chapter. If the story disturbs or triggers you in anyway, I suggest you stop reading farther. As of now, this story is rated T for triggering subjects later on and language. Anything that happens in this story is purely fictional and should not be attempted in real life. I am not responsible for injury or anything that happens should someone try anything from my story.
A/N: Okay, so I've been wanting to do this story for a long time and now I've finally gotten my life together to do so. So yay for me! Yeah, basically the story is about Alex and Jamuti. I know some people think this is a Mary Sue story but it's not and you'll have to read to find out more. See the author's note at the bottom as well.
Remember to review and tell me what you think!
SCORPIA never forgives, SCORPIA never forgetsHolding cells weren't typically pleasant places to be in but they had become familiar to Jamuti over the past few weeks.
The same grey walls. The same white cot. The same window, so high up on the wall that it had no other purpose but to provide ventilation. Even then, she could see, if she tilted her head back far enough, that it was barred. No way for her to get out from there. Even if she got up there, it would have been too small for her to slip through. There was a chemical toilet in the corner, separated by curtains. The distance from the toilet to her bed was approximately eight of her own footsteps. The distance to the door was eighteen. The whole cell measured twenty four by twenty. Not that big but she supposed she had been lucky; she had seen cells that were even smaller and more cramped. At least they weren't cockroaches. She couldn't stand them.
She heard a clang somewhere down the hallway and turned her head towards the sound. They brought food to her three times a day so she wasn't starving but the food wasn't exactly the highest quality food. There was bread, a small packet of butter and some kind of meat and gravy with crackers. For variety, sometimes, there would be sandwitches but those tasted like chalk and cardboard combined. Common to prison stereotypes, there was also Jell-O. It was the only good part about each meal.
With food came the questions. Who are you working for? Silence. A bite of Jello. Who sent you? A sip of water. How long have you been working for them? A rip as the pack of crackers opened and she pulled one out and put it in her mouth. And then repeating-Who are you working for?
They had even used more painful and convincing methods on her. The electric burns on her skin and her slightly blue tinged skin confirmed this. They kept her alive but she knew that there was at least a few bones in her hand broken from when she had tried to resist and ended up getting her hand snapped by one of the guards. This hasn't deterred her; it had made her more furious and more determined to get out of here.
Jamuti heard footsteps. The flap on the door to her cell opened up and sure enough, a tray of food was passed through. She walked over, picking it up. Today was some mystery meat and a few saltine crackers. The customary glop of Jello jiggled in the corner, right next to the pats of butter and small loaf of bread. There was the addition of an apple, a rare treat, although she noticed it was slightly bruised on the sides. She tossed the crackers aside, knowing they'd only make her thirsty. The small bottle of water they had provided needed to be rationed and saved.
She set the tray down on the ground and poked at the meat. She had never been the biggest fan of meat. Chicken, maybe. Pork, occasionally. Fish was revolting. She was convinced the meat here was made of some combination of all three, although she couldn't exactly ask.
The door opened and Jamuti looked up. A tall dark woman walked in, and with her came two guards. She recognized the guards and had even managed to pick up their names-Martinez and Alexis. Martinez was the nicer of the two but Alexis was much more brutal. The woman was new and intriguing. Intelligent dark eyes met her own as the woman extended a hand.
"Aasha Kathmar," she said, "pleasure to meet you, Jamuti."
Jamuti took the hand cautiously. Aasha gave a firm shake, making Jamuti grit her teeth and wince in pain as some of the bones in her hand cracked. She let go, eyeing the woman warily.
"We'd appreciate it if you could cooperate and provide us the information we need."
"Oh? And what's that?" Jamuti kept true to her teenage nature by allowing her blatant disregard for authority to shine through. This woman was clearly important. The well manicured nails and shiny red nail polish suggested this. She was, also, clearly not someone from the prison. Everyone here wore dark grey clothing. Guards wore black vests and grey shirts with gun holsters and sedation pills for some of the wilder prisoners. The woman was dressed in a red skirt and red top with a black pull over. Her hair was shiny and coiffed, falling down to rest somewhere at the midpoint of her back.
The woman smiled, showing white teeth. "Who are your employers? Where are you from? Why were you in Zachary Reyes house and why were you the one who had shot him?"
Jamuti told the well rehearsed story that had been practically drilled into her head by this point. "I told you, Zachary cheated me out of some of my drugs. I don't belong to any gang or anything like that. I shot him because he was asking me to whore myself out to him," at this, she made a practiced disgusted face, "and he was getting a little too persistent. Threatened to out me. I knew I had to do something or he'd tell everyone."
"That's a very good story, but it's not the truth."
"It is!" She insisted.
Aasha smiled. "I know your not from Columbia, Jamuti. Your story is very convincing; I almost bought it, too. You may speak Spanish fluently and you disguise yourself well, but the truth is, we've been keeping tabs on your employers and that means we've been keeping tabs on you as well."
Jamuti shook her head, turning away. "I don't work for anyone. I don't have any employers,"
Aasha smiled once more but it didn't reach her eyes. "Tell me, Jamuti, where did you learn to speak English?"
She shrugged in response. "My father was American, and my mother was Columbian. He died when I was ten. I continued learning in school."
"That's interesting." Aasha pulled something out of her pocket. A syringe. Jamuti's eyes widened as Aasha tested it, squirting a little liquid out of the top. It landed near her knees. "We did some tests, Jamuti, from some of your blood. According to our results, you're not American and you're certainly not Columbian either; you're of Russian and Indian descent."
Backed into a corner. She swallowed, trying not to show how outed she was. "Really? Your tests are wrong. I'm not Russian. I'm not Indian."
"Our tests are never wrong, Jamuti,"
She looked away, towards the food. The Jello looked particularly appetizing today. She picked up the spoon and dug into it, taking a large bite. The overwhelmingly sweet substance slid down her throat fluidly.
"Jamuti is an interesting name," Aasha commented. Jamuti took another large bite of the Jello then crammed some of the meat into her mouth. "But not very Columbian, is it?"
"My mom's into unique names," she mumbled around a mouthful of the meat. It tasted disgusting. "My brother's named Isaiah."
It had been a mistake, a simple mistake. She had been drugged, half delirious and filled with pain. When the first responders had asked her name she didn't hesitate in giving it. Little did she know that the first responders had turned out to be agents. When she had woken up in the cell with her hands cuffed to the cot, she had known that she had been busted. But it didn't hurt to try to deny it anyways.
Aasha tilted her head but didn't pursue further. Jamuti took a large gulp of the water then ripped open the packet of bread and tore of a large chunk.
"Careful, you'll choke," Aasha said, looking mildly amused.
"I'll live." Jamuti chewed then took another large gulp of water. "The food is delicious."
"You like it?"
"Yes. Please send my compliments to the chef,"
"You're very funny, Jamuti. Too funny for someone who has just committed first degree murder."
Jamuti closed the water bottle. "It was for the drugs," she said.
"I'm not so sure about that."
"I don't care what you think," she replied honestly and she didn't; when she had accepted the job, no one had asked her what she had thought about the whole thing. She knew that it would fail. She had a feeling it would fail but it was her word against eight others and so she had to obey. Aasha glanced at the watch on her wrist (big and expensive, it didn't seem like her style).
"It was nice talking to you-"
"Can't say the same about you," muttered Jamuti sarcastically. Aasha ignored her, continuing on-
"...but I have to go now. Hopefully, you'll change your mind and we can put this whole nasty business behind us."
Highly unlikely. Alexis held the door open for the woman as she left the room. Martinez picked up the tray and followed Alexis out of the room. Jamuti shook her head.
What a weird woman. Unfortunately, it seemed that Jamuti would be seeing more of her in the near future.
If anyone had told Alex Rider that he would end up in the hospital after being thrown from a twenty story burning building, suffering from multiple broken bones and severe burns on his arms and his legs, he wouldn't have believed it. No seventeen year old would have ever believed it. These kinds of things did not happen to normal, everyday seventeen year olds. A level exams happen to seventeen year olds. Driving licenses happen to seventeen year olds. Girl troubles and sort-of-maybe girlfriends happen to seventeen year olds. But ending up in the hospital because MI6 had screwed up yet again?
Alex sighed, annoyed for the fifteenth time as Jack fussed over him. Today had been the day he had finally been able to come home after spending nearly six weeks in the hospital. He suppose he should be happy to have finally come home. The familiar bedroom, now slightly too small for him with the posters of various music groups. His uncle's office, as vague and mysterious as it had been to him when he was eight or twelve years old. The kitchen which had been the source of countless 'science' experiments gone wrong. But with Jack fluffing his pillows every five minutes and constantly asking him if he was hungry or he wanted something to drink was just about enough to drive him up the wall. Alex had a lot of patience (when you were sometimes required to go on four hour long stake outs, lying in the bushes, barely breathing as enemy agents passed right over you, you acquired such skills) but even his patience had run thin. No wonder Ian had sometimes called Jack a nightmare.
"Jack," he said, "I'm fine."
Jack paused from where she was bringing him another blanket. Alex's head throbbed even more as he saw the pastel pink color the blanket was in. If Tom happen to come by, he would be the laughingstock in his school forever. Alex had no doubt that the annoying git would take pictures (lot's of them) and message them to pretty much everyone with a cellphone.
"Are you sure?" She asked, looking concerned. "You're looking a bit flush, maybe I should bring you some more…"
"No, really, Jack, I'm fine," Alex said hastily before she could get it in her head to grab more blankets in similar, mortifying colors. "I think you should rest now, it's been a long day. I'll be fine on my own for a few minutes."
Jack didn't look convinced. He really needed to sell the story or Jack was going to end up driving him to the hospital if he so much as sneezed. While he was touched at her concern, he wasn't dying. Besides being a little pale, with a slight temperature, he felt and looked fine. From the way Jack was acting, however, someone might have thought that Alex was on his deathbed, reciting his final will. He patted the spot on the sofa next to him. "Why don't you sit?"
"Are you sure? I could make you some hot cocoa, or maybe some warm milk-"
"Jack," Alex interrupted, "sit. Please."
Hesitating, she finally sat down next to him. She brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.
"Your hair's getting kind of long, Alex. Want me to cut it?"
"Sure, Jack," he replied, if only because he was glad she was no longer fussing over him. He tugged at one of her red curls, teasing. "Cut your own hair?"
"Oh, never!" She declared firmly. "I'm growing it out like Lilly Collins. Don't I look like Lilly Collins?"
"The Lilly Collins look?" Alex raised an eyebrow. "She has brown hair, not red."
Jack frowned but Alex was right. "Well," defended Jack, "in that movie of hers, I forgot the name, Shadowhunters or something, I think, she dyed her hair red."
Alex grinned. "If you say so, Jack. Want to watch something on TV?" He leaned forward to grab the remote but Jack yanked him back.
"Alex! Don't move around! You'll open up your stitches."
He rubbed his forehead, wanting desperately to bang it against something but then she would probably complain about him damaging his brain or whatnot. He really didn't want to take another trip to the hospital. Sighing a little, he watched as she picked up the remote, switching the television on. Jack flipped through channels, trying to find something age appropriate for Alex although Alex had already seen plenty of R rated movies (courtesy of Tom and James). Glancing at his phone, he was surprised to see two new messages on the screen.
The first was from Tom, telling him to get better. He opened it, typing a reply. It seemed that MI6 had provided the classic 'weakened immune' system excuse. It was getting kind of old and the story was starting to fall through; most people knew that no one could have such a fragile immune system and no one came back to school looking like they had been through hell for something as simple as the flu.
Alex: thanks. I'll be back by monday, hopefully.
Two minutes later, the reply came back-
Tom: :) nice.
The second message was from an unknown number. Alex opened this message with dread. He had a feeling he knew who it was from and when he opened the message, his suspicouns were confirmed-
Unknown Number: Mr. Rider, there has been a problem with your bank account. Please come by this Monday at six to fix the problem.
"Why are you making that face?" It was Jack. She had found some wholesome nature documentary for them to watch.
Alex handed the phone to her, waiting for her reaction.
Sure enough, she flipped out, pulling the phone from his hands and dialing the number.
Alex sighed. It seemed that MI6 had found him once again. He wondered what they needed this time. Hopefully, it wouldn't involve him ending up in the hospital again, although, knowing his luck, he probably would.
He sank lower onto the couch as the first of Jack's loud protests could be heard coming from the kitchen.
So much for school.
A/N: Hey guys! So I known I haven't written in the Alex Rider fandom for a long time. I had some family issues I needed to take care of and I decided I'd start fresh with a new story.
Since I'm juggling this and my other Mortal Instruments fanfiction, I'll try to post every three days. If I can't, feel free to bother me :) Reviews make my day and motivate me so please leave one and tell me what you think!
Happy Writing!
-Amber
P.S: I forgot to add-Happy Valentine's Day! Alex's birthday was yesterday so happy birthday Alex! Hope you guys are eating a lot of chocolate and spending time with your loved ones. Even if your a single pringle like me, please spend time with your book friends/boyfriends/girlfriends/it's-really-complicated ;)