Disclaimer: We all know what this says. I do (not) own ALEX RIDER

Chapter 1

14 years later

Alex Rider matured faster than others, it was a known fact. Perhaps that was why MI6 recruited him in the first place. He had even begun shaving. (1)

Surprise was what he felt when his mirror showed his face completely devoid of stubble. (Also 1) Confused but pleasantly so, he dressed and slowly descended the stairs, walking on legs that were still sore from his experience with Winston Yu (2). Rubbing bleary and sleep filled eyes, he entered the kitchen to find Jack standing before the stove, smoke rising in front of her and a crisp smell in the air. Whatever she was trying to cook was obviously burned.

"Morning Jack," he said quietly. Jack jumped, knocking crispy pancakes from the pan. Alex frowned. Didn't she hear him come in? He pulled a chair out and sat down, purposely letting the chair scrape against the floor. Jack placed a plate of black pancakes in front of him, a sheepish yet defiant expression on her face.

"How'd you sleep Alex? Obviously well, since it actually looks like you shaved this morning." (It was also a known fact that Alex was not the most accurate of shavers.) Her tone was teasing, laughter in her eyes, but the question sent his mind into overdrive. He couldn't tell her how he got a perfect shave, because he didn't. He decided not to worry her with it, he already gave her more than enough of that.

"Practice makes perfect, but your cooking might be the exception," he said simply, subtly avoiding a direct answer. He dropped his now empty plate in the sink and dashed out the door before Jack could think of a comeback, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he went. He was glad that Jack hadn't abandoned him like so many others. It was their daily banter that kept him sane.

His bike chain creaked as he pedaled along the road, reminding him that he had to get his belongings into shape again. His constant missions did nothing for the health of his possessions. Consumed as he was in his thoughts, it came as a surprise when he found himself in front of his school gate.

Regret. Bitter, bitter regret; and anger. Anger that MI6 had done this to him, that they had made him an outcast in his own school. It was sick that a kid his age was more comfortable in the presence of trained killers than when around carefree teens his own age. Grabbing the handlebars in an unknowingly strong hold, he pulled it into the bike rack, locked it, and walked through the school doors.

Whispers. Cruel, cruel things carrying vicious rumors. Supposedly quiet communication, yet Alex could hear them all. To them, he was the druggie, the gang member, skipping school to get into shoot-outs with the police. To others, he was just the sickly kid that MI6 had made him.

MI6.

The thought made him tremble with anger.

These vicious rumors followed him as he walked towards his first class. First period was Chemistry. (3) He found this class exponentially boring, as the biggest explosion their teacher allowed was one from a fizzing volcano. He dropped his bag and sat down, the sound of the other kids making him jump. Quickly, he tried to shut down his senses.

Brookland was his – relatively – safe haven. He didn't need to use his senses. The class was dull, more so than usual, and Alex found himself drifting. The phone rang loudly, breaking Alex's mental silence. The teacher frowned, upset at being interrupted mid-word.

"Hello?" he said, annoyance clear in his voice. The person on the other end of the line said something, and the teacher's eyes widened. "Alex Rider? Alright, I'll get him." The teacher gestured for Alex to come with his index finger, the arm holding the phone extended towards him. Alex rose painfully, limbs slowed with dread. What was only a few seconds felt like hours as his numb fingers closed around the phone.

"Hello?" he said weakly.

"Alex." Blunt's emotionless voice sent shivers down Alex's spine as he tried to hold in his anger. He was near his classmate and, if only for their sake, had to keep it in.

"What do you want?" Alex growled, carelessly impolite.

"We need to see you. Please come to the Royal and General bank so we can speak in private."

"And what if I don't want to go, Blunt? What if I refuse?" There was silence on the other end of the line, then:

"I'll send a car."

When do guys start shaving? No clue as I'm obviously female. (And ridiculously young to know)

In case you don't know, this is POST (after, for those still living in a cave.) Snakehead.

Haven't started High School yet so…not sure what classes there are.

Alright. I might not update for awhile cause I'm so busy and I need to get the plot straight. But there's a little button somewhere around

-----------------------------------------

There that you should CLICK RIGHT NOW.