Hey everyone! I'm back with chapter 4! I'm writing this instead of an essay for English, so that's a bit of an oof. Too bad writing about what and how narratives signify isn't nearly as thrilling as writing fanfiction.

So this chapter is really short, because writer's block, but I have a plan for most of the rest of this fic, which is good. Alex and Ella will meet in chapter 7 just so you know. The chapters from here on out will be longer, I promise.

Also, I just realized that Ella's younger brother, Christopher Cornell, has the exact same name as Chris Cornell, the lead singer of the band Soundgarden. This was totally accidental, as I named this character like 3 years ago, which was before I'd even heard of him. (Also, Chris Cornell, the musician, has the middle name 'John,' which also happens to be Ella's father's name. Oof.) So anyway, this is a happy accident, because Soundgarden is a great band, and you should definitely go listen to them! [This totally sounds like a paid advertisement, and I swear to god it's not.]

Anyways, enjoy Alex's second chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, or Soundgarden, unfortunately...

Chapter Four: Perfect Russian

Alex:

Three days later, Alex strides into the Royal and General Bank, rolling his eyes at the security measure. When he arrives on the 17th floor, he barges into the office of an unamused Tulip Jones.

"Tulip," Alex greets, smirk on his face.

"Alex," the woman groans, "What have I told you about knocking on my office door?"

"That I only have to disregard the privacy of people who send me on suicidal missions?" He says, jokingly raising an eyebrow. Mrs. Jones sighs, unable to respond. "Anyways, I have that mission report you asked me for. It's on time, too." Alex puts a red folder on the Head of MI6 Special Operation's desk.

The woman lifts an eyebrow, curious as to how she got Alex to turn it in so easily. Her suspicions are confirmed when she cracks open the folder, revealing a twelve-page mission report, written in perfect...Russian.

"Really, Alex?" She asked, exasperated, "You had to make my life more difficult?"

"S'not my fault you didn't specify the language, Tulip," Alex says, as innocently as he can manage.

Tulip groans, not for the first time during her meeting with MI6's youngest spy. "Anyways, Alex, I want to talk to you about your position here. Congratulations, by the way, on graduating from Brookland, I'm sure that was no easy feat-"

"Yeah, what with all the school you forced me to miss." He replies, sarcastically.

"Yes, well," Mrs. Jones coughs, "I noticed that you will be attending Imperial College in London this fall. What with all the school you've missed, it's almost shocking you were accepted into any college, let alone such a good one. Well," she concludes, "you are lucky to have friends in high places."

"You blackmailed a university into letting me in?" Alex asks, incredulously.

"Why, have you got a problem with that?" Mrs. Jones challenges.

"Nope," Alex smirks, "I'm just happy you're finally using that power in my favor."

"Anyways, since we at MI6 have been so kind as to get you accepted into university-"

Alex cuts her off, "How about I risk my life on dozens of suicidal missions against my will from ages 14 to 18?"

"I'm offering you a job, Alex, a paid job. The same one your father had, the same one your Uncle Ian had, an MI6 field agent."

"And what will you be paying me for my services?" He asks, raising an eyebrow, "Wait. Actually, nevermind, I don't care. Whatever it is, triple it, and add on college tuition, and we have a deal."

"I'm surprised you agreed so quickly," Mrs, Jones replies, clearly suspicious of the agent standing in front of her.

"Well, the way I figure it, I'll be going on the missions either way, and I'd rather be paid than blackmailed."

Mrs. Jones nods, accepting this. "Very well then. You'll work here from 8-7 on days you don't have class, and days you do, we can work around."

Alex nods. When did I suddenly become so complacent around Tulip? He thought to himself, Damn, MI6 really have a strong grip around me. I barely even put up a fight before my last mission. I guess I've really been conditioned to blackmail…

"Have you been feeling alright lately, Alex?" Mrs. Jones asks the agent.

"Yeah, twelve straight hours of torture earlier this week has me feeling brilliant." He mumbled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"No, not physically. The doctor said you'll be fine once your fingers and lacerations heal. I mean psychologically. Lately, you've just seemed...numb. You've lost your spunk. It's almost as though you've been conditioned to violence, and nothing even fazes you anymore," The woman said, looking concerned.

Creepy, Alex thought, It's like she's reading my mind. "Yeah. I wonder who's fault that is." He replies, almost bitterly.

"You're really turning into one of us. Stone-cold, emotionless, hiding behind a psychological barrier of your own creation. You scare people, Alex, you shut them out. I'm worried that because you're so isolated and different from everyone, you'll never form a real human connection again. We could talk if you wanted."

Nothing sounded worse to the teenage spy than spilling his guts to Tulip Jones. "I'm alright," he mumbles, getting up to leave.

"Actually, Alex, it would be great for you and me to talk things out. How about every Thursday at 3:00?" Mrs. Jones asked him. Well, it was more a demand than a question. "Yes. This is perfect. I'll see you tomorrow!"

Alex groaned. This is a cursed office, Alex thought to himself, Every time I step inside, shit hits the fucking fan.