AN: Hey guys, second story. Have never done a Burn Notice fiction or an Alex Rider fiction. But I will try my best.

CHAPTER: 1

It was a Friday night in Miami, so that means lots of parting and endless drinks until you pass out. Normally the streets would be full with people, trying to get home, off to another club, or friends house. But there wasn't anyone really out tonight, it was pretty late, but that was not the reason. The reason being simple, rain; what sane person would be walking out in the rain on a May night? When they could be spending it getting a fix or trying the newest creation your favorite bartender made.

The answer, a man, well early twenties by the looks of his height. Who was silently walking down the street. Literally in the street, and not really walking, more like stumbling and staggering here and there. He had his hood up so you couldn't see his face. He was drenched as if he had been walking for a while. He coughed and stumbled to the right, most likely tripping on his own feet, almost landing face first, but caught himself, barely. Yep this was just another drunk, trying to get home, hopeful that they are going the right way. He put his hand to his head and rubbed his face in an act to remember something.

He was mumbling incoherent words, some slurred together, some not. All the while watching the ground, desperately trying not to fall over his clumsy feet; his shoes blended into the dark street below him.

"…..Have….get….can't…." He suddenly stopped trying to make his mind work and looked up. He was now in a neighborhood, he stumbled yet again, only this time on a curb. When he was set up right again he was in front of a house. The house is on a corner, from the looks of it a cream colored stone with two stories. The porch light is on, and he staggers towards it.

Not having any trouble except when he actually came up to the house. It had three concrete stairs leading on to the deck, and to his goal, the door. He bent his head down to glance at the stairs, and then back up. Acting as if he could make it up the stairs without even looking at them, and he did just that. Well the railing did help a little; he took one step at a time, the whole procedure gazing forward into the big brown door.

When he made it to the top he lifted his foot again, as if to go up one more step. But to his displeasure all he met was air. He finally looked back down to discover his problem, and soon after stopped trying to reach the invisible step. He kept his head down as he crossed the deck a few feet to meet the door.

He knocked three solid times before putting his hand in his pocket. A light flickered on as soon as the knocking subsided. Everything was pretty quiet for the next minute or so. The guy just waited until there was a loud, "HOLD ON."

And he still waited, his eyes at his feet again. There was a jumble of locks being undone, until finally the door was pulled open. Standing in the path of getting inside was a middle aged woman who had spiky white blonde hair. She was wearing a pink robe.

"Can I help you?" She asked with a raised eyebrow as she lit a cigarette.

"A…place..to…..stay." His head was still down, but his voice came in short, slurred syllables.

The lady just sighed and took a long drag of her cigarette before blowing the smoke away from them. "Right, well come on in, no use on letting the air out." She told him as she moved away from the door to give him room to come in.

He took a minute to realize she had said yes, and he slowly made his way inside. She shut the door with a bang. And the door clicked, letting all the locks seal in place.

*break*

The lump underneath the blankets of the twin sized bed contained a young man. He stretched before faltering, and freezing all together.

He didn't move for another ten minutes. Breathing low, as if he went back to sleep, but he was far from that, no he would not rest in this strange environment. All the while making his senses take in his surroundings. When he realized that there wasn't anyone in the room with him, he came to a decision.

In one movement he was out of bed and up against the nearest wall. Missing the nightstand by an inch, his hair a dark brown tussled here and there. His outfit consumes of a light wash jean, and a gray tank top. He even had kept his shoes on, which were black converse. The most shocking thing about his structure, would be his face. Slim but still held a strong masculine build to it, and then the eyes.

His eyes weren't normal, to say the least. And certainly not the skin around them, being a whitish red color. Outlining both of his eyes and the bridge of his nose. His actual eyes though were a light brown, or hazel, directly around the pupil. Also the pupil itself wasn't a graphite black, more like a shadowy gray, as in it is suppose to be darker. The iris was sort of greenish color, and the tear duct is a bright red, looking agitated. But over all his eyes were blurry and not glossy. And that was exactly what he was seeing.

Everywhere he looked, all he saw was blobs and his vision was blurry and inaccurate. He put his hand up to his eyes and rubbed them. Big mistake. They burned, feeling like his eyes were on fire he quickly pulled away his hand in attempt to stop the pain. It did nothing, though it did stop from progressing to worse amounts of pain.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall and silently slid down. He raked his fingers through his hair trying to calm himself down. It wasn't working too well.

He tried to remember what happened to him, to get him here. But all he could see was this big blur, nothing was coming clear, most like his vision. All the sudden he heard talking. He couldn't make out the voices, but one was male and the other female. He got up slowly all the while looking at the door. Though it didn't help much, but he had to concentrate.

He was in a room he wasn't familiar with, and he didn't even know where here was; much less how he got here. Once he was up off the ground, he made his way towards the door. Just about to reach for the handle when he felt as if he was forgetting something?

Now he remembered, his sweatshirt. He scanned the room, and to his disappointment couldn't find it; or rather see it. So his next option was the thing closest to him. He picked it up and threw it on. He felt it and it turned out to be leather, it would work. He looked in the pockets and found some sunglasses. They might be useful because he didn't even want to know how he looked if he couldn't see properly, and the sun might damage his eyesight even more.

He then reached towards the back of his waistband and pulled out a nine millimeter blue finished handgun. Checked and felt that he had only three bullets, which meant he had already used four previously. On what or whom he couldn't locate in his mind, guess all things come in good time.

So equipped with a black leather jacket, which fit him perfectly except a little too long in the arms. A pair of thin black framed sunglasses; and his gun, ready and loaded. He silently unlocked the door and slid into the hallway.

He glanced around, it didn't come in help much, as he couldn't see. So he turned to another important sense. Hearing. He silently shifted the gun in his hands and walked oh so carefully down the hallway.

He didn't even bother stopping and checking all the doors leading to other rooms. He knew that there were only two people in the house, and they were downstairs. So traveling though the hallway, and meeting the stairs. He knew it was a bad idea to go down the stairs when you couldn't see. But what other option did he have, he certainly wasn't stupid enough to jump out the second story window. On second thought…. No he couldn't, well he could and risk breaking his leg because he landed on it wrong, not being able to see the ground.

So he just stuck with the stairs, though the railing did help, yeah the invisible railing that no matter if he could see or not, would never find. What kind of stairs doesn't have a railing, are they trying to kill the blind people, and seems like it. He took a breath and guessed that there were eight to ten stairs in total, so with that in mind he started his first step downward.

He counted with each step he took.

One.

Two.

Three. Four.

Five. Wait what was that noise? It sounded like it came from the other side of the house, a door shutting. Maybe a back door, but it sounded softer.

He took the next few steps quickly but quietly. Six. Seven. Eight. Nin-.

He almost tripped because he was already on the ground. And his head hurt, as if he couldn't see already the dizziness just added to it. Making everything a tinted gray, from the sunglasses, and hazy.

He took a silent deep breath and continued slowly around the corner, ready for anything. He walked against the wall, using it as a guide and just followed the voices.

They were louder now, and he could tell he was in the same room as they were. Maybe it was all connected into one large room because they were farther away.

"Alright Mom. But let me tell you I am right." A taller man said he had short brown hair, his face held a masculine look and he was also wearing sunglasses. Though the blind man couldn't tell this, well because he was blind.

"Fine Michael, do whatever you want. But don't come to me when you get arrested." An older lady said as she took a drag of a cigarette and then put it out.

The man had just listened to their conversation, all the while slowly making his way over to them.

"Glad, we are on the same page Mom. Hey listen I got to go but I will call you later. How does that sound?" Michael asked his Mother.

"Yes that's fine Michael, but don't forget to call." His Mother told him as she lit another cigarette.

That's when he slipped out of the shadows. He made his way to what he assumed was the door way. And looked towards the closest person which just so happened to be Michael.

Michael froze when he saw him. Not knowing who he was he reached for his gun in his waistband.

"Don't move." The man said in a harsh voice. He had his gun up as soon as he moved, pointed directly at his face, in between the eyes.

Michael put his hands in the air, and spread his fingers out. His face all the sudden serious. "Ok, let's just calm down. What do you want?"

"I want to know where I am. How I got here, and who you are." The man told Michael, showing no emotion at all.

"Miami." Michael told him.

"Specifics." The man said.

Michael just glanced at his Mother, weary of answering the question. The man spoke up. "I already know where you live, so just give me the street name."

"North River Dr." Michael established.

The man just nodded before asking. "How did I get here?"

Michael just glanced at his Mother for the answer because honestly he didn't know. His Mother just took a drag of her cigarette. "Please refrain from moving." The man told her.

"Ok," She told him before answering his question. "You came here, drunk Friday night. And I let you in."

Michael just looked at her as if she was crazy with both of his eyebrows raised. He was just about to say something, but the guy holding them hostage beat them to it.

"That can't be right, I would never…. I need to go." He told them both before turning on his heal and walking swiftly out of the kitchen. He stayed close to the wall, and he made his way through the dining room before stopping again.

"Don't even think about it." He told Michael, who had reached again for his gun. Only stopping when the stranger clicked the safety off of his gun. "If either one of you tries to follow me, there will consequences. I am leaving. Now." And he quickly made his way to the door, doing his best to avoid furniture, and slipped out the front door.

#break#

AN: There is the first chapter, how was it…..tell me by hitting the review button!