Spy Guy: For you old readers, this is the chapter where things start to get different. For new ones, I hope you like the changes I made, and please drop a review by. :D
I have been using Alexei in Cyrillic for my page breakers in the original document, and have decided to simply leave them there. I hope this gets rid of any confusion. :D Cryillic is damn hard stuff to figure out.
-Lor
Chapter 1: Survival
Alex stared into the cold, hard lens of the camera, allowing someone to adjust his short hair one last time. They ran a sharp-toothed comb through his blond roots, plastering it tighter against his scalp. Alex simply endured the treatment in silence, feeling blush applied to his cheeks, and paint to his lips. Appearances were important, and he had become too pale to look healthy. Certain measures needed to be taken, to ensure his place in the public eye.
At least, that was what Sarov said.
"Pyat...Chetyre...Tree..."
The crew counted down, as the president took a seat in his chair, allowing another worker to finish primping his own hair. Alex felt anxiety growing within him as the countdown ended, and they were live.
"Good evening." Sarov said. Alex took a deep breath. This was the last place he wanted to be right now...on live TV sitting beside the man who was responsible for everything wrong in his life...
Every day, Alex struggled to survive in the president's domain, putting on an act just to please him. The boy ran with his captor everyday and allowed his face to be shown in the cinemas. He kept his mouth in check, studied like a scholar, and smiled on cue.
Like a good boy...
"The world is changing once again." Sarov continued. "and many people are afraid. Once the world emerges from this upset, things will not be the same. I understand how many feel about that."
Sarov wasn't just addressing his country. He was addressing the world. His world, as he called it when no one could hear. He was speaking, so the world could hear him. So the world could hear his words before he bore down on them, and forced their compliance.
"Many are unsure about the refugees gathering at our borders." The former general continued. "Mother Russia is large. We can open our doors to those willing to follow our ways. As long as they are willing to work, and follow our rules, we will let in those who will follow us forward."
Alex hadn't left the compound since the explosion. Everything he knew of the world came either from Sarov, or the television the man kept locked up in his den. Society was changing rapidly; governments falling, the balance of power shifting...and at the head of it all was Sarov himself, holding his nation together with brute military force.
Alex didn't know how much more he could take...
The boy was silent as Sarov continued to speak, walking through his social reforms, standing behind his heavy police presence.
"The criminals on the streets are intolerable. I must wash their negative impact from the streets. The thieves, the rapists, the prostitutes. The gangs that try to take control from me. Their hands shall no longer be in Russia's business. There is no longer a place for them in this society!"
When the broadcast finally came to its end, Sarov called Alex over, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. The boy didn't push away...he allowed the man to embrace him, knowing the consequences if he pulled away...
On their first night in Russia, Sarov had told him that Russians did not live...they survived. Life was all about toughing it out, and being proud of your hardship.
Alex knew that he would have to endure...if he ever wanted his freedom again. If he ever wanted to find Jack, or Tom, or Sabina, he would have to wait...
He would have to survive...
Alex remained silent as the cameras closed in on his face, transmitting his countenance to every cinema in Russia. The people were watching him...And soon...the world would be watching him as well. Maybe someone would recognize him Maybe not.
Maybe someone would save him.
Until then, he could only survive.
Алексей
Jack Starbright only saw his face after she was back in the United States, working a dead end job at a diner in Florida. She was one of the lucky few allowed to make it back to America before the waterways closed. MI6 gave her ample warning, and she fled Great Britain, leaving behind the place where she had once looked after Alex Rider.
She would miss him so much...
MI6 had told her that he was MIA...but, as usual, they refused to give her the details.
Regardless of the means, Jack was back in her homeland, without a good job, and without a working car. Inside, she knew that things could be much worse...but she had never been very good at logical thinking. If she had possessed any foresight at all, she would have finished college instead of becoming the housekeeper for a British spy. If she had only done that, then, she might have been able to find a decent job to support herself.
Go figure.
Jack was cleaning off a table in the diner—a particularly messy one, covered in large globs of ketchup and mustard--while humming a light tune to herself, in an attempt to stave off immense boredom.
An old TV rested above the counter, droning out some world news channel day in and day out. Jack never paid much attention to it. Everyone was gearing up for a major war, but she didn't want any part of it. All she wanted was to be back in England, with Alex, having tea and biscuits, and doing other quaint stereotypical British things that she sure as hell couldn't do in Maine. The monotony of her dead-end job was killing her...and she needed something more.
"Not this shit again." An old man growled from his perch at the counter. Jack looked up from her work, taking a moment to see what the customer was talking about. Angry customers were never good. They tended to like picking fights and that wasn't the kind of something she had in mind for the day.
To her relief, the customer was only glaring at the TV with cold eyes, mumbling darkly beneath his breath. Jack turned her attention to the screen, to see for herself just what had the man so riled up.
And then she knew.
It was yet another clip of the Russian President, former General Alexei Sarov, taken from a European TV station. Jack was getting really tired of seeing the man's face plastered over the television. He was everywhere, despite the communist paranoia that was quickly settling over the country. Those who supported Sarov flocked together, rallying and recruiting more of their own. In turn, scared followers of democracy lashed out...
It was just like the 50's all over again.
Jack stared hard at the TV, glaring daggers at the screen. So many people had died since the man had come to power. There were thousands killed in the initial blast, with thousands more dying in Finland, Norway, and the United Kingdom. Then, there were those who had been murdered in the United States; victims of paranoia and hate. All the former general did was bring death to the world.
How could anyone support him?
Jack watched with growing disgust as Sarov continued to speak in thick Russian. His real voice was muffled by the newscaster who chattered over him, saying simple trivial things that didn't really matter. Jack was about to turn away when the camera panned to the right, revealing a new face...once that made her pause...
A teenage boy, with blond hair and a crisp black suit rested beside the president, his lips pursed as he exercised silence. The cameraman zoomed in on his face, showcasing his light brown eyes, and blank expression.
Jack felt her heart plummet.
"This is Fourteen-year-old Alexei Yannovich Sarov." The newscaster said. "In his first public appearance since his father took power--"
Jack felt her breath catch in her throat...she recognized him...she knew him.
His face was so familiar.
"Alex..." She whispered, her eyes widening. "Oh God...Alex..."
"--not a native of Russia, but--"
"Alex...no..."
She couldn't listen anymore. It couldn't be him. It couldn't be Alex. It was just some random kid who happened to look like him. Alex wouldn't...he wouldn't...
Jack dropped her washrag, running towards the back room, tears welling in her eyes.
She had thought that she was done crying months ago, but then...then she had seen that boy, and everything had reverted back to the way it had been. The woman reached a hand up to her face to wipe away the eyeliner and mascara running along her cheeks.
"Alex...it can't be you...Alex."
Jack pushed the tears from her eyes, trying to purge her mind of the familiar face superimposed on the body of one of the enemy.
Leaning against the wall in the lonely back room, Jack wished, more than anything, that she knew the truth...she wished, with all her heart, that she knew what had really happened to Alex Rider....
She wished that someone would tell her something...
