Paring Words


Alex was sitting in his living room staring at the little black journal he'd found. It was odd. Then again, he was the type to read people's diaries. Especially if they were billionaires. Alex promptly gave up and opened the journal. Inside was a list of…names? What in the bloody hell? Wait, hadn't that guy died of a heart attack or something? Alex went over to the computer and decided to google some of the names. The articles came up immediately. Yakuza Boss Dead From Heart Attack. Suspected Trafficker Dead of Stroke: New Serial Killer?Most of them were in Japanese. It was going to give him problems if this got more complicated. Alex paused. His eyes narrowed. Well, that wasn't suspicious at all. Alex got up to make himself an entire pot of tea. He knew himself well enough to know that he was going to drop every other responsibility and sleep to google every name in the notebook. Jack would probably murder him if he drank straight from the teapot. Alex grinned. Hell, she'd probably get Tom to prank him. Alex stared at the notebook. Time to speed run this.

After eight hours, Alex was pretty sure that every name in the notebook was either a corrupt motherfucker or a suspected corrupt motherfucker who died of natural causes. Yeah. Fucking. Right. He might not be Alan Blunt's level of suspicious but he figured even Jack and Tom would think this was hilariously sketchy. Alex closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Was the killer going to come after him? He technically had enough evidence to call Interpol and let them deal with this. It was fortunate that he wasn't even born for some of these. Most of them had happened when he was a toddler. The killer seemed to have quieted down for like ten years after that. Alex flipped the book open to a clean page. There was a dark figure that flooded his vision. It didn't look human. Probably PTSD or something. Goody.

His fingers itched for some reason. The pages were soft and managed to smell like new paper. Not a hint of blood or sweat. Maybe he should use gloves? Would the murderer care if he found Alex? Ah, well. He'd already read the man's diary so he would probably die either way. Alex felt his fingers itch again. He wondered what would happen if he wrote a name in it. The clock ticked loudly on the wall. Alex glanced at the sunrise and groaned. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Who was a nice, disposable guinea pig? Alex shuddered at the thought. Right, probably nothing and he should probably sleep. His curiosity prickled. Alex silently cursed his genes as he picked up a pen. Right, that Home Secretary he'd dropped a boat on. What was his name again? Trevor Davies. Alex could picture his face just fine as he scribbled the name down. It would have to be something dramatic and unmistakable.

Trevor Davies died of a concussion after being crushed by a falling pillar in Parliament.

There was no way in fuck that could be a fluke. Alex snapped the journal closed before he was tempted to write anything else down. Right, he should be going to bed now. Alex decided to hide the journal under his mattress before dumping his cold tea and heading for a shower. The hot water ran down his back and was a relief. He had the worst headache in the history of headaches. His eyes felt dry. Alex pulled out his clothes for the next day. Thankfully, there was no reason to get up early. He yanked back the covers on the bed. Time to pass out.

Alex awoke to a weight on his chest. He stared up at the figure of the thing he had seen before. "So, you're real then?"

The figure paused. Alex glared. "Real is a relative term, my friend. If you lose the note, you lose your memories of it."

Alex threw the…man off of his chest. The demon looked bored. "Ryuk?"

The man winced slightly. Alex rolled his eyes. "Closest you will get with your mother tongue, I expect. Now, what sort of devious plans have you got?"

Alex rubbed his eyes. He suddenly felt like he was back at the weird Malagosto career conference things they made students go to. "You act like I get to plan for the future."

The bored man considered him for a few minutes. The anticipation thrummed through him. "You can now. Write another name. And another. And another. As many as it takes to get them all to leave you alone. Or don't. I'm thoroughly indifferent on the matter."

Alex rolled his eyes. He could tell that much, thanks. The man vanished into thin air after Alex grabbed his robe. Great, so he was either completely crackers or he'd just killed a politician by accident. Well, Blunt had always called him careless. Whoops. Hopefully, his family didn't like him too much. Jack rushed up the stairs as he put on his jacket. "Alex! That guy you concussed just died!"

Alex blinked. Jack sighed. "What?!"

Jack rolled her eyes and pulled him down the stairs. Alex reluctantly followed her. "Look!"

Sure enough. Davies being hit by a falling column was live on television. At least nobody else had died since they had evacuated the building. "Bloody hell. Well, the building is a couple of hundred years old." Jack let out a sigh. Alex grinned. "Scandalous enough for you?"

Jack flushed slightly and looked at Alex. Alex gave her a teasing grin. Maybe he'd just put the book away and forget about it? Once was enough, right?

Bulman left the house. It didn't matter. His real name was on the papers he'd left Alex. Alex felt a slightly satisfied smirk cross his face. You know what? Fuck him, fuck Blunt, and fuck the rest of them. Winston Yu had died of actual natural causes. He wasn't going to think about Ash. Alex wasn't quite sure that Joe had believed him about Drevin senior when Alex claimed he keeled over after a very well-timed stroke. Tamara had looked slightly shell-shocked. Blunt hadn't reacted in the slightest to the news and Jones had been giving him searching looks. Alex shuddered at what that might mean for his future. Nonetheless, he had stringently denied anything to do with Drevin's death. Multiple times. In great detail. With a lot of hinting. At any rate, they were safe from that bastard journalist. Alex had never hated anyone more. Hopefully, the magic book would keep helping him out of tight spots. Alex had a sinking suspicion Blunt was gearing up to send him on another dangerous mission.

Harold Bulman dies of a near-instant heart attack in his car after spying on and threatening the wrong man.


Fin


Based on a prompt by Zyzyax (see story summary). This is the 85th work in the Winds of Change 2022 Alex Rider Prompt event, where a new prompt (plus a short 1-3K work) is posted every day. For more details, see the AO3 collection :) Want to discuss? Leave a comment beneath, or join the discord (Link on AO3 Fics or just PM me, lol). Want to take part in our Alex Rider anniversary celebrations in September? Join the WoC discord to take part in a fanfic event! Want to showcase your work to your fellow fans and authors? The WoC server has a new feature! Any author who joins can ask to join our authors' feed, which shows all the fics from the authors who opt in, including non-AR fics!