Chapter 4— The End of the Marionette
By Doomed but over It
Reader Review Responses—
Author's Notes—I really apologize for being so slow in updating. Between my job and a family vacation, I've had no time to write. Plus just a tiny bit of writer's block on my new story, You Taste Like Blueberries. I am sooooo sorry about that. Grr, this story has given me a headache. What to do next? Well, I started randomly typing, and quickly posted, so I really hope I don't turn you off of my writing forever. Thank you all. I'm really happy that so many of you reviewed. It's just making me the happiest fan writer in the whole wide world. Thankee dearly! Things involving me….I am tired and sleepy and my world may collapse upon me in my sleep. Nothing new, correct? My computer is being mean to me, because it sends those stupid green lines under all my fragment sentences. I KNOW WHAT I AM DOING MOST OF THE TIME! QUIT PUTTING THOSE ANNOYING LINES UNDER MY FRAGMENTS! Gosh. That's it for today, folks.
No more ranting,
No more weird looks,
My beta's telling me to hit the books.
Disclaimer—me no own, you no sue. Yo no tengo, tu no…erm….sue?
"KNSI!"
What do you effin' want? Oh, yeah. We proudly present---chapter 4…good night, I'm going back to bed.
"Kiki, that's not the name of the chapter."
I know. Good night, I'm going back to bed.
Stupid muse. Oh well. She's been wonky since she helped me out on my latest, you taste like Blueberries. It's a Rent fic. I really like it, but then again, I would. Anyway, the path is
Other RENT You Taste like Blueberries
Check it out, okay? Leave me a review or something. Fangs!
Without further adieu, I give you, Chapter 4- Hawaiian Sweet Onion Kettle Crisps! Enjoy! Mmmm, kettle crisps.
Alex rested his head on the window of the plane. He didn't really mind heights, but this was different. He had never been south of Skeleton Key. He was leaving everything he knew and loved, to a tropical prison halfway around the world. He knew no one near it, and he was to be under constant surveillance by undercover agents.
Contrary to his original belief, he was not to be watched by American agents, nor British, but French. This made him slightly nervous. He was generally a fan of French food, except escargot, but he had never worked with any of their agents before. It was always either Americans or the good old British. He wasn't quite sure what to expect. His stomach was filled with the butterflies that appeared every time he began a new project, performed an oral report, or embarked on another life-threatening mission. This didn't really fall neatly into any category…it was more of a new experience. He had never done this before. it was new, and he felt a kind of normalness around it.
You know you have a problem when you consider a normal vacation novelty. He thought ruefully. What did I miss when I was out saving the world? What am I doing here? He thought, not for the first time. Why did my uncle choose meHe rested his head in his hands. Then, a new thought struck him. I'm 14. How many people have I killed? How many people have I seen killed? How many people have I hurt? Why? So some government agency can maintain its reputation?
At that moment, Alex made a decision. He wasn't going to be a puppet anymore. The French weren't going to ever see him. He wasn't going to run back to Britain.
Alex Rider was cutting his marionette strings.
Back at MI6 Headquarters…. Three Days Later
"YOU WHAT?" a murderous Jack Starbright screamed, grabbing Blunt's impeccably ironed tie and dragging him across the table. "How the hell do you lose a teenage boy, you self satisfied bastard? He's a boy, not your lunch!"
"Miss Starbright, contain yourself! You are being illogical. Calm down." Blunt said, dignified even as his tie became even more firmly entangled in Jack's grasping hands. Inwardly, he winced as it became harder to breathe. "And unhand my tie," he added.
Jack sat down heavily, and let go. But not before giving it a healthy yank. "Your 'illogical' can take a flying leap off an effin' lake. I want my baby back. I don't care what you have to do. Set the whole effin' military on it. Just find him. Or else."
Blunt could have laughed. "Or else?" he asked, mockingly. "or else what? What can a woman in your position do to me?" he placed an ugly emphasis on woman. "You overestimate your influence. That might work with 14-year-olds, but you are out of your league with me. I am a generous man, so I will cut you a deal. Last shot, Miss Starbright."
As Jack listened, her face grew grimmer and grimmer. Finally, she gave a slow nod.
"I will personally see to it that you roast in Hell for the rest of eternity." She promised.
Blunt snorted. "Wait in line."
Author's Notes—Yeah, I know its short, and I know that I didn't stick to the coming soon, but I have a better idea, so you will just have to live with it. Sorry, maybe you like it better; maybe you're pissed at me. Oh, and for the record, no one says effin'…I wanted to keep my younger teens rating. I know, everyone knows what it stands for, but just keep me in happy denial. Please…
