A Cold Day in Hell
Chapter I: An Unpleasant Surprise
Disclaimer: Obviously, I own nothing.
AN: I have this rated T, but it may go up to M. I'm not shying away from language or violence, but it shouldn't be too bad... I think. I watch a lot of action movies, so my judgment on what's teen appropriate may be slightly off lol... I'm not trying to offend or shock, this is mostly a story I've been using to power through the dreaded writer's block in regards to my FFVII story (Raised by Wolves).
Anyways, do enjoy and feel free to comment!
(Incidentally, this story was inspired by an anime. I wonder if any of you can guess which one? lol.)
Alex Rider was not happy.
The seventeen year old heaved a sigh as he shifted the backpack slung over his shoulder as he stood in line, waiting to get on the plane that would take him back to MI6.
It had been almost two years since his life had gone so radically out of his control, since Jack had died and Alex killed his copy, Julius Grief. He'd just turned seventeen a few weeks ago, and was now technically a legal adult (although, if he was honest with himself, Alex hadn't felt much like a teenager in years).
And now he was going back.
The brown-eyed teen handed over his plane ticket and waited for the woman to scan it, signaling him to get onto the plane as she handed it back. Alex thanked her quietly, and with a slight smile, took it back and boarded the plane.
Alex eyed the rows of seats, looking for his own assigned seat and all the while subconsciously registering who or what might be a threat, not excluding the air marshal that road the plane to make sure nothing happened to Alex en-route back to MI6.
He found his seat and tossed his bag into the overhead compartment. Alex slipped into the seat next to the window, pulling out his iPod as he did. He immediately turned the music on and turned it up, though not so loud that he couldn't hear what was going on around him. He thought back to how he'd ended up on a plane heading back to England…
"Alex?" asked Sabina, looking at him over the lunch table.
"What is it, Sab?" he asked, looking at her curiously, warily. As if he knew that she knew something was up.
"What's happened? You took that call yesterday. You've been acting weird ever since," she said quietly. "Was it them?"
Alex laughed wearily, bitterness tinging his voice.
"Which ''them'' are you referring to? MI6, the CIA, or the ASIS?" he replied sardonically.
Sabina winced at his tone. Alex's brown eyes softened to their usual honey colour as he looked at Sabina.
"I'm sorry, Sab. I didn't mean to sound that way," he said tiredly, looking down at his tray of school food.
The two were in the cafeteria of the American school that Sabina had ended up in after she and her family left England after the Eagle Strike incident. It was a private school, a good one. Luckily for Alex, he had fit in rather quickly with Sabina's help. The teens that met him instinctively liked him, despite the fact that he didn't speak a lot. The teachers also liked him; he was smart, clever, and did his work without making problems in class. And as time went on, he became more open, talking and laughing more.
He never dated anyone, despite the many girls (and few guys) that made advances. The males had definitely thrown him, and combined with the females trying to get his attention, it created a rush of awkward emotions that suddenly made him feel like the teenager he was.
Sabina had laughed hysterically when he talked to her about the guys trying to hit on him, confused as hell on what he was supposed to do and how to deal with it. Honestly, Alex had no idea what his preferences were. He knew he liked girls, but he wasn't horrified by the idea of guys liking him, just surprised. It had never occurred to him to think about it. In any case, ever since Ian had died when he was fourteen, he'd been too busy trying to keep himself alive and catch up on his schoolwork; he hadn't had the time to think romantic, teenage thoughts.
When he mentioned it to Sabina, she had looked at him for a moment and simply said, "You might be bi."
"Bi?" questioned Alex.
"Yeah. As in, you can like both. You probably prefer girls though," she explained simply. They talked for a while after, Sabina laughing as Alex told her about the awkward conversations he'd found himself in.
Alex gave his head a mental shake and refocused on the Sabina in the present.
"It was Crawley," he finally said, taking a sip of his drink.
"What did he want?" she asked, her gaze level.
"They need me back in England, apparently. A job."
"You're not going, are you?" she asked. Alex was silent. "You are," she said, answering her own question. "Have you talked with Dad? Mum?"
"Last night," he said, nodding. "He doesn't want me to, but he understands why. You're mum didn't say much of anything, just looked a bit…"
"Worried," finished Sabina, "Why is it that you're going back? They destroyed your life."
"I know. But… This isn't working, Sabina. I'm getting restless, waiting for the other foot to drop. I feel like if I stay any longer, something's going to happen, something as irreversible as what happened to Jack and Ian. I can't go through that again, Sab. I can't." He looked at her, his brown eyes desperate for her to understand, "Besides which, even if I did refuse, they'd probably find a way to get me to agree anyway," he added, a slightly bitter smile on his face.
A slightly awkward silence filled the air between the two teens. Sabina looked over at Alex and opened her mouth.
"I know," she finally said. "If it's what you think is the best decision, then go. Just make sure to visit occasionally, yeah?" she said, smiling suddenly and reaching over to tug at the lock of fair hair that swept down next to his eye. Alex yelped, then laughed as he reached over and tugged a piece of her own.
"You know," she said suddenly, "I used to have quite the crush on you."
"I know," said Alex, grinning at her, "Kissing me back then kinda gave me an idea." She smacked him from across the table.
"You're more like a brother now, though," she said, sticking her tongue out at him, "Of course, you'd be the annoying little brother that I can't help but tease."
"Oi, that's not nice, Sab," reprimanded a voice from over Alex's shoulder.
The two turned. The owner of the voice grinned. Sabina blushed slightly.
"Hey, you two," said the older boy, strolling closer and dropping into the empty seat next to Alex.
"Aiden. Hey," replied Alex.
"What's this I hear about you going somewhere?" the eighteen year old asked.
"I'm going back to England. A… relative phoned. He said he wants me to go back to England for a while. Of course, I'll still visit. Sab wouldn't survive without me," Alex joked, "She'd probably get mobbed by the angry ex-girlfriends of all the guys she's… dated," he continued, grinning wickedly across the table at a furiously blushing and pissed off Sabina.
Alex gave a pained grunt when Sabina's foot connected forcefully with his shin under the table. Aiden laughed.
"Damn, I'm gonna miss you," he said, locking an arm around Alex's neck, putting him into an effective headlock as he ruffled Alex's hair.
Alex left the school that day feeling both sad and happy, Sabina walking beside him.
"Hurry up and ask him out already, Sab," commented Alex, "He's gonna find out you like him at some point, the way you keep blushing around him."
"It wouldn't have been so obvious if you hadn't decided to embarrass me, you git," she said, glaring at him.
"Sab, really. Just do it. Message me when you do so that I can be happy for you and know you're not going to get depressed and worried while I'm gone."
Sabina's face fell at the mention of Alex leaving. "Don't you dare die, Alex," said Sabina seriously, looking her brother in the eyes, "Don't you dare give up, no matter what situation you find yourself in, or what happens to you. If you kick the bucket, I'll never forgive you."
Alex grinned slightly at the force of her words, replying with a, "Yes, ma'am," and a mock salute.
Sabina smiled back. "Pinky swear," she ordered childishly, holding out her pinky.
Alex laughed and looped his pinky with hers. "Swear," he said simply.
Alex mentally shook himself from his reverie, trying to focus and recall the details from his conversation with Crawley. Apparently, MI6 wanted to send him somewhere, but he needed to go to the Royal and General for a briefing and to (hopefully) see Smithers for some gadgets. He would also like to have them give him some concessions, like putting him on the bank's payroll. And make sure that he would be able to finish his schooling; he would like to go to college at some point.
The seventeen year old sighed again, for what felt like the hundredth time. He honestly could not figure out if he was glad to be going back or not. He knew he liked the rush, the excitement that came with each mission. However, he really didn't enjoy nearly getting killed, or the fact that the people around him had a nasty habit of dying. The thought saddened him as the faces of the Jack, Ian, the two CIA agents that he had worked with, even Ash and Yassen went through his mind. An image of his parents flicked through his mind. His chest tightened uncomfortably.
Alex pushed the depressing thoughts away and unplugged his earphones from his iPod Touch, plugging it into the dock on the armrest. He turned on the mini-TV on the seat in front of him and picked a movie, settling back for the long flight to his old home.
The plane bumping down the runway woke Alex with a start. He craned his neck, looking out the small, oval window to see a large airport. Trucks and small transports carried luggage to and from the planes, following the set yellow and white lines that marked safe passage through the take-off lanes.
A few minutes later and Alex was off the plane, heading to collect his bags from the carousel. While the teen waited for his bag to show, he took the opportunity to study his surroundings more closely. People of all shapes and sizes were walking around, carrying suitcases or carry-ons, and towing children. Some were rushing, some were sitting at the little cafes sipping caffeinated beverages, and some were simply standing around, waiting to get on their planes.
Alex's brown eyes noted a pair of men. One wore a dark suit and was holding a leather briefcase; he looked to be in his late forties. The other wore fitted dark jeans and an expensive black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and aviator sunglasses covering his face; he seemed in his mid to late twenties. They didn't look out of the ordinary, yet people didn't get too close despite the amount of people.
The teen sighed. They really were being obvious, whoever they were. Alex looked away, noticing his bag coming near him on the carousel. He slipped through the others waiting to get their bags and managed to get next to the conveyor belt, grabbing his bag easily and swinging it up and off. Alex double-checked the simple black suitcase again, just to ensure that it was indeed his and that it hadn't been tampered with. It was and it hadn't.
That done, the seventeen year old pulled out the handle, made sure his backpack was securely on his shoulders, and moved away, heading for the exit. MI6 was going to pick him up outside.
As Alex passed the two men, he heard the man in the aviators answer his mobile phone. Rapid speech in quiet Russian surprised Alex, enough that he detoured. Alex pulled out his wallet and headed to the café just behind the odd pair. The teen pulled out some money and scanned the menu, all the while listening to the conversation behind him.
"I should learn Russian…" Alex thought absently, stepping up to the counter and quietly ordering a croissant and juice.
Alex turned and sat down at a nearby table in order to see what the two men were up to; he still had time, as his plane had arrived early. MI6 wasn't due to pick him up for another twenty to thirty minutes.
He tuned back into the conversation, sipping his juice as he did and pulling out the mobile MI6 had given him before he went to America. He pretended to text, when in fact he snapped a few quick photos of the men's faces unobtrusively. Sabina was a good teacher when it came to that sort of thing. A quick grin flashed across his face at the thought; she always took pictures of men she found hot, even if she didn't know them. She was a pro at taking photos with her mobile.
He continued pretending to text, looking totally absorbed in it even as he paid strict attention to the men.
"What did he say?" asked the man in the suit, looking vaguely nervous.
"We have a new drop point. The other was compromised apparently," said the other, pocketing his phone and crossing his arms, looking utterly relaxed. "Once we're there and the package delivered, you can go, along with your payment," the younger man said, face mostly hidden by the sunglasses. "Come on, let's go. I want a shower."
So saying, the man began walking easily through the throngs of people, the older man hurrying to catch up. Alex waited a few moments before getting up and following. He still had around fifteen minutes.
The men were walking quickly, but not so much that they looked like they were hurrying. Alex followed easily and was able to do so unnoticed. The little procession made it out into the main area where people get picked up. They made their way through all of the greeters and people waiting for their families.
Alex briefly felt a pang of sadness when he saw a young woman and two older parents hug a boy who looked to be fourteen. He turned away, refocusing his eyes on the two men rapidly getting ahead of him.
The teen hurried forward, pushing away the thought and shoving it into the dark void in his mind where he shoved everything else. Alex briefly wondered if that was a healthy thing to do, but let that thought join the void as well.
The seventeen year old spy slipped through the people, trying not to lose sight of his quarry. A particularly large group of what looked to be family welcoming their father home blocked his sight and ability to follow. Alex shifted back and forth, trying to get around them, before finally managing to slip through with minimal hassle.
Alex frowned. He'd lost sight of them. He glanced around, and then decided to try his luck outside. Alex started forward, dragging his suitcase behind him. He made his way out the door and looked around, hoping to see them.
He got lucky. He glimpsed them rounding the corner. Another man seemed to have joined them. Alex frowned again; the other man seemed vaguely familiar. He gave a mental shrug and followed after.
Alex casually walked after, acting like he was looking for a certain car. He looked down, checking the time on his watch. His brow furrowed. MI6 would be there in a few minutes.
"Well," Alex thought, "It shouldn't take too long just to check the car they're getting into. Get the plate number…"
The teen rounded the corner, still acting casual as if he was heading for a car. However, when he rounded the corner, he froze, instincts going haywire. The lot was empty of people, and there weren't that many cars either. Less cover, and with no one around and waiting by their car, he couldn't act as if he was heading for one of those. He didn't look old enough to have his own car.
Alex's serious brown eyes sharpened, looking around and searching for the three men. The teen made a decision. He went back around the corner and ditched his suitcase and backpack next to a large potted plant. His mobile vibrated silently in his pocket, buzzing against his thigh. He pulled it out as he walked around the corner for the second time.
-Jones-
Where are you?
-Hunter-
Airport… the pick up area.
something came up. im looking into it.
-Jones-
No. Go back and wait in the lobby. We need you to be ready the moment the car is there to get you. We can't afford delays.
-Hunter-
Im sending you a couple of pics i took. Get smithers or someone to ID them. Later
Mrs. Jones frowned down at her mobile. It had been a year since she'd seen Alex, and that last view of him hadn't been reassuring. But now, it seemed, he was willing to work for them with minimal difficulty.
However, if Alex was going to make a habit of working for them again, Mrs. Jones decided, she should put him on the payroll. And see if she could get him into counseling. He needed it by now…
The new head of MI6 sighed and took a quick look at the pictures Alex had taken. Her eyes narrowed; she recognized the older man immediately, and the other looked familiar. She reached over to her phone and pressed the number two speed dial that would connect her line with Smithers.
"Yes, Mrs. Jones, what can I do for you?" said Smithers' cheery voice.
"I'm sending you some photos Alex took at the airport. Have someone in your department run them through any of the facial recognition software that we possess," she ordered, feeling slightly troubled though her voice didn't betray her.
"Yes, ma'am," replied Smithers, still sounding inordinately cheerful. "And congratulations on your new post, I didn't get the chance to say so when you first started," the no longer fat man added. "I'll send you my findings."
"Thank you, Mr. Smithers," replied Mrs. Jones, "Good day."
Finished with what she needed to say, Mrs. Jones hung up, staring pensively into space.
"I have a bad feeling about this."
Alex, currently oblivious to Mrs. Jones worries, was crouched in the shadows between a row of cars and a cement wall, watching the two men he'd originally spotted waiting near a dark blue sedan. He couldn't see the numbers from where he was crouched and he had no idea where the third man had disappeared to. He'd vanished during the short interlude between when Alex turned around to hide his luggage and when he'd returned.
That had Alex worried, but there wasn't much he could do about it at the moment; he needed to get the plate numbers and hopefully get a look at the third man. Alex got the feeling that he was the one in charge.
Alex watched as the younger man leaned against the passenger side door of the sedan while the other man in the suit fiddled with the handle of the briefcase nervously and kept shifting from foot to foot. The man in the aviators turned to him and said something that suspiciously looked like:
"Stop fucking moving, you two-bit scientist."
Alex held back an amused snort. The man in the sunglasses was obviously not a patient person; he also had a distinctly American feel to him, as opposed to the other who was obviously British. Alex frowned; he wanted to get closer. As Alex shifted, preparing to stand up, instinct and adrenaline shot through his system.
The seventeen year old stood and turned in the same movement, lashing out with a vicious roundhouse kick aimed high. Which was solidly blocked and caught.
Alex caught his balance and jumped, twisting into the air and forcing the third man to release his foot. The teen landed lightly in a defensive crouch. He immediately went on the offensive: he'd been discovered. He needed to get away. And the only way out was through, as there was a cement wall behind him now.
Alex stepped forward quickly, striking out at the adult's pressure points, hoping to hit and incapacitate the man for the moment so he could escape. To Alex's surprise and horror, his wrist was easily caught and he was thrown, slamming into the car that was on his left. Alex managed to use his free arm to partially block his face and head from hitting the harsh metal, though the force was strong enough to disorient him anyway.
The boy snapped when he was pulled back and began trying to twist himself out of the adult's hands, kicking and lashing out at both lethal and non-lethal areas on the man's body. Each move was systematically and easily countered and blocked. In an eerily familiar way.
Alex was having flashbacks to his time in Malogosto. When that thought hit him, Alex faltered slightly. That was all it took. Alex found himself pinned to the ground, arms wrenched painfully behind his back and effectively immobilized.
"What are you doing here, little Alex?" said a cool voice in Alex's ear.
The seventeen year old's breath halted. He knew that voice. It was painfully etched into his mind, along with everything else from that year. Alex took a silent, deep breath.
"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" he finally managed.
Yassen Gregorovich gave a small snort of amusement.
"I am, which poses a problem," said the Russian.
Still crouched over Alex and pinning him in place, Yassen reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. He cocked it, allowing one of the bullets to slide into the chamber. Alex heard the distinctive click that had become so familiar over the last year and gulped quietly.
"I believe you know what that sound was," commented Yassen, saying nothing after and knowing that Alex would get the silent warning.
Alex said nothing, just squirmed uncomfortably and nodded. There was a breath of silence in which Alex could hear the blood pounding in his ears and was acutely aware of how uncomfortable his position was and how much his arms were beginning to ache.
"You're… kinda heavy," he finally said, voice strained slightly.
If Yassen wasn't a world-renowned assassin, he might have rolled his eyes. Instead, his expression did not change, though his blue eyes managed to look vaguely amused. Giving an inward sigh, he put the gun against Alex's leg and pressed it in painfully, while simultaneously wrenching Alex's arms up higher. Alex winced and couldn't help the small pained groan that escaped.
"I won't try anything, all right?" Alex managed to say through gritted teeth.
The assassin abruptly released him and stood swiftly, knowing that Alex understood the situation. Yassen may not kill him, but he wouldn't hesitate to incapacitate him in a painful way. He gestured for Alex to stand, which the teen did.
"Walk," he commanded, looking over at Alex who was rubbing his sore shoulders.
Alex sighed. "Alright, alright. I'm walking."
The man said nothing, just giving him an appraising glance which Alex pretended not to notice.
A few moments later and the two were at the sedan, Alex walking slightly ahead of Yassen in order for the man to keep an eye on him. He wouldn't put it past the boy to try something, despite the situation.
"Gregorovich, what's this?" asked the man in the aviators, pushing himself away from the car and walking over to stand in front of Alex. "Where'd this kid come from?"
"He followed you," said Yassen. "Without your knowledge, it seems," he added with a raised brow.
"Huh. Why's that, kid?" said the man, turning his attention to Alex, not looking the least bit ashamed that a teenager had managed to shadow him all through the airport.
Alex stared at him coolly. Then he raised an eyebrow, unknowingly mirroring Yassen's expression.
"Why are you wearing sunglasses on a cloudy, potentially rainy day in London? And while you were inside the airport, where there is also no sun to speak of?"
The man scowled, eyes narrowing in irritation. Yassen reached over and almost casually smacked the snarky teen upside the head, hard, with an audible slap. Alex winced and almost stumbled. He turned and glared at the assassin.
"I didn't say it to you," he pointed out, glaring slightly.
Yassen just stared down at him, warning him silently. Alex quieted, flinching slightly as a particularly sharp stab of pain lanced through the back of his head where Yassen had slapped him.
"This wasn't part of the plan," commented the man in aviators, running a hand through his hair in irritation.
"What are you going to do with the boy?" asked the older man, Arnold Roswell, nervously adjusting his glasses.
Yassen looked down at Alex appraisingly. Alex glanced up at him, then away, finally getting a look at the number plate of the car. Not that he'd get the chance to use it now, Alex reflected. Any move to take out his phone would be seen at this point.
"Get the duct tape out of the car," said Yassen finally.
"We're taking him with us?" said the younger man, "Why not just kill him?"
Yassen stared at him a moment, cold gaze going arctic.
"I'll get the tape."
The man, Jason Weste, did as he was told quickly, deciding not to question the assassin's motives. Besides, it'd be better not to test the man's patience.
Alex felt a growing sense of dread as the duct tape was pulled out of the car, the food he'd had earlier resting like stone in his stomach.
"Hands," ordered the Russian.
Alex hesitated. Yassen gestured at Weste to grab Alex's wrists. The teen tried to pull away, but a warning look from Yassen made him stop. The tape was wound around Alex's wrists, quickly and efficiently. Yassen didn't stop at just Alex's wrists; he wrapped Alex's forearms as well. Then he made Alex walk with him to the back of the car.
"Open it," he called to the dark-haired Weste, while going through Alex's pockets and pulling out the teen's cell phone and wallet, tucking them into his own to check through later.
The man smirked. "Understood."
The boot popped open with a quiet thunk.
"In," said the assassin, looking at Alex.
Hesitantly, Alex stepped forward. He sat down on the edge and slid himself back inside awkwardly. Yassen stopped Alex when his feet were still dangling outside and began wrapping the teen's ankles tightly as well. Alex's knees followed in being strapped together tightly with the duct tape. Yassen pushed the boy's legs the rest of the way into the boot and pulled off one last strip of tape and put it over Alex's mouth.
"Do not make any noise, attempt to signal another car, or anything that might get us pulled over," said Yassen, leaning down closer to Alex's face. "I don't want to have to hurt you any more than I have to, Alex," he said quietly.
Alex nodded slowly, showing he understood. The seventeen year old had masked his eyes almost as soon as he'd realized he was dealing with Yassen, not letting any emotions show. The assassin studied Alex's face.
"You've killed," he stated.
Alex's eyes widened slightly, surprised, before he could shut down the expression completely. He managed an awkward shrug, briefly considering rolling his eyes before deciding that Yassen would not appreciate the gesture. He settled for a neutral stare that said nothing.
Yassen regarded the teen again with his expressionless blue eyes. Alex looked away, brown eyes blank as he remembered the feel of the trigger, the recoil of the gun, and seeing his exact body double fall dead to the ground, blood rushing from his body. He watched Julius Grief bleed out in the dirt, just as he'd been forced to watch Jack explode in the dessert.
Alex gave himself a mental shake. He needed to focus on the present, in which he was currently being locked in the boot of a dark blue sedan by a supposedly dead assassin and his clients. And he now had a throbbing headache that was most likely going to get worse.
Yassen gave a last warning stare at the teenager before he shut the boot, the lid slamming closed on top of Alex. A few seconds later and Alex heard three of the car doors open and shut, the car shaking slightly as the heavy males got inside. The car purred to life. Alex blinked.
Sedans didn't have that kind of engine. Looking around in the dark, Alex realized that there was no glowing safety pull-tab to open the boot from the inside like most newer cars have. Private modification was the most likely explanation. And if that were true, then the sponsors of this little venture (whatever it was) had money to spare.
Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, since the tape prohibited him from doing so through his mouth. The teen felt every bump and turn in the road, every stop the car made. Eventually, the sedan was no longer slowing down and stopping. Alex assumed they were on the motorway by then. He had no idea how long he was trapped in the dark cramped confines.
Eventually, Alex felt exhaustion catching up with him. A combination of the fallen adrenaline rush and jet lag gave him the urge to yawn which went unsatisfied due to the duct tape over his mouth. His eyes flickered closed.
When Alex realized he was falling asleep, he shook himself, trying to stay awake. However, the darkness combined with his exhaustion made it a losing battle. A few minutes later, and the teen spy succumbed, sleep claiming him.
End Chapter I
