Chapter Four: From Where the Shots Came
Tee hee hee! Well, chapter four, here it is! All apologies on being so late with this.
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Alex turned around to face the ashen hallway. He heard four gunshots, and he swore he heard it at the end of the hall. Quickly he ran down to the very last door at the end of the hallway, aware that everything was quiet, and crouched to peer into the blinds that blocked the window into the room.
"Come on, you know that there's no point in playing hero," snarled a low voice from the room. "Well, you never know; it's one of those cards that haven't been played yet." Alex peered into the room. Seeing a sight that came scarcely on missions, Alex entered the room quietly. The room was vast; the metallic walls complimented the white ceiling and floor. Alex made his way behind the glass desk that was right next to the door and peered atop it.
"Well, don't we all flip the ace of spades once in awhile," Alex said coolly. The low voice chuckled and so did Alex. The source of the low voice was an overweight man stood in the center of the room beside the table. He was holding a small gun. Another shot was fired. Alex's eyes followed the bullet to the end of the room to a rubber man target, then back to the fat man a few feet away from him. It had been awhile since he'd seen him.
"I'd say I picked up the Joker," the fat man said, as he turned around to see Alex sitting in luxurious custom (you could imagine why) chair.
"Oh please, Smithers. Today I picked the so called lucky 7."
"Hey, that's my chair your sittin' in, you know," Smithers said, as he picked up a remote and turned off the TV screen almost hidden in the wall. Alex stood up and made his way around the desk.
"How come movies are always at the climax where the robber robs the bank?"
"Just a little mood music to get me in my shooting mood." The two MI6 agents shook hands.
"Oh, Alex," a very jolly Smithers said, "nice to have you drop in. Haven't seen you lately!" he exclaimed, putting the small black handgun down on his desk. Alex scoffed.
"Well, you know how it is. You only see me when MI6 needs me," he said curtly. Smithers frowned.
"Oh, they've got you on the Lara thing, right?" he inquired. Alex nodded.
"I have to admit, this kind of mission is kind of strange," Alex murmured. Smithers nodded with a thoughtful look in his eyes.
"Yes, it is. There hasn't been any case like this in years. In fact, I think this is the first time when Mr. Blunt took in a nut case." Alex was shocked. He thought Lara might've been a little mental, but not a nut case. Surely Smithers wouldn't talk about kids that way. Adults, maybe, but teenagers?
"Why do you say that?" he asked Smithers, who was still looking into space.
"I say that, because I think she's just playing hooky, or she's a spy." he murmured, motioning to Alex to come into the corner of the tiny room to his desk. Smithers took out some files and lay them flat on his desk.
"I've done a little researching myself. I researched on Lara's symptoms, and I can say, they don't match up to any symptoms caused by trauma, except for the panic attacks." Smithers stated, opening some of the files with snippets of articles from newspapers, printouts from the Internet and such. "The bloodshot eyes and everything, it's really weird." Alex couldn't believe his ears.
"What? But Mr. Blunt said she was captured by Cobra, and they could've had inflicted those wounds. The scars and gosh, how skinny she is, it's just unnatural! There's no way she can act that ill." Alex cleared his throat, recognizing that his voice was elevating. "There's no way she can fake going into a coma, or even cardiac arrest." Smithers looked at him in the eye. Back from space, Alex thought.
"Well, it may be just me. Besides, I have a suspicion about that girl."
"What could possibly be so suspicious about her?" Alex snapped.
"Alex, you've got to remember that she might be an insider. You're right, Cobra might have caused her wounds and scars, but they might just do that to play in our hands." Smithers sighed with impatience. Alex nodded, seeing to where his friend was getting at.
"Like the time that guy created the terrorist gang, the man with the crazy world tattooed on his head? He had them kidnap his own son to make everyone realize how serious the terrorist group was, but it was all just a setup, a distraction," Alex nodded again, seeing the box fold out right in front of him.
"You see, that's what I mean," Smithers said, slapping the files and getting up from his desk, "because we have another big case on our hands." Alex was confused.
"What case?" he inquired. Mr. Smithers let out a sigh between clenched teeth as he walked around his glass desk and sat on his leather swivel chair, swinging this way and that.
"I don't even know. Mr. Blunt has been keeping a lot of things to himself lately. Heck, I don't know if it's mid-life crisis or dementia or whatever those old people get, but he's been acting a bit weird lately. Of course, you might've not noticed, since he's always so good at acting professional, but there are definitely things he's not telling me."
Alex pondered what the round man just said. He didn't notice anything wrong with Mr. Blunt, but as Smithers said; he's always so good at acting professional.
"I'll ask him about it later." stated Alex.
"Hey, but you didn't hear it from me!" Smithers said, his hands flying up in a defensive matter
"I'll try my best to make it sound like you're at fault." Alex mocked. After a chortle each, Smithers picked up the gun from where he lay it on his desk, and made his way over to the table in the center of the room.
"Well, you know what; I'm going to get back to work."
Alex scoffed, humored.
"And your work is target practice, if I'm not mistaken?" asked Alex.
"Well, you could say that," Smithers said, picking up the small, black handgun he had in his hand when Alex came in "they're letting me have more freedom in my office." Alex laughed meekly.
"I almost had a heart attack when I heard those gunshots."
"Ha ha. All the offices around me just can't stand my constant noise! Soundproof glass hasn't been thought up yet by them. You should hear what they said when I told them Mr. Blunt allowed it!" Smithers said sneakily, whispering the last sentence to Alex.
"Well, you see that I've been doing some side jobs, if you know what I mean." Alex looked back to the rubber man target near the back of the room that was on when he first came in.
"What kind of side jobs?" inquired Alex. Smithers grinned and displayed the sleek piece of black metal to Alex.
"This handgun is not an ordinary handgun, Alex."
"Of course; I don't think I'll ever see the day when Smithers makes an ordinary handgun." Smithers beamed.
"If you walk towards that target I set up over there, you'll see why." Alex and Smithers moved to the back of the room to see what the gun had inflicted on the dummy. Alex was puzzled at the four holes he saw in the dummy.
"What are those tiny silver umbrella things?" he asked, pointing at the four holes where five silver needles formed into a star to hold each hole in the dummy open, kind of like an umbrella without the long handle. Smithers let out a small laugh.
"Those, my boy, are the bullets." Alex took a second and peered closer into the bullet holes to examine the damage. The rubber was pierced and held open by five needles joined at the tip and spread out to stretch the rubber, kind of like a spider. The spider-like bullets were about two centimeters in diameter.
"Is that salt?" Alex asked Smithers, referring to the white stuff surrounding the hole in the dummy. Smithers nodded.
"Yeah, it gives a little torture to it," he chuckled.
"And why would MI6 want to torture anybody?" Alex asked. Smithers pursed his lips and gave Alex a thoughtful look.
"You're a smart boy, Alex. And a smart boy would know that a man like Smithers gets looked over sometimes." Alex rose and eyebrow. What was Smithers saying?
"What do you mean?"
"Well, like I said, I've been doing some side jobs, and I've been making a lot more than what I usually get; MI6 hasn't been getting a lot of money lately, and I think that's what partially got Mr. Blunt onto this whole Lara mess, not to mention his secretive secretiveness." Alex looked at Smithers with half-squinting, questioning eyes.
"You know, things get dangerous when these things start happening, selling stuff to outsiders." Alex said gravely.
"Oh, n-no no," Smithers stuttered, "outsiders? Nah—MI5 doesn't have this genius stuff. Some prisons pay well for it, and all that jazz."
Alex was still iffy about this whole 'other side' to Smithers, but he could trust this man.
"I'd better get going," Alex almost murmured, as Smithers fired another agonizingly loud shot at the dummy.
"Fare thee well my young friend," Smithers said elegantly, waving his hand in an equally elegant fashion.
"Until we meet again," Alex replied in an equally equal amount of elegance (lol).
With that, Alex left the room.
After a few more shots, Smithers sighed and headed back to his desk. He wondered why the Rider family had to be caught up in all this mess. Not only Ian and Alex, but the whole Rider family. If only he could tell Alex…
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Jack sighed and sat on the lavish couch in the Rider house. There wasn't much to do, since everything was taken care of. Even though Ian had been away for a long time, she missed how Alex would anxiously await the return of his uncle. Nowadays, it was just Alex whining about how MI6 always needed him, or, or…
Once Jack thought about it, that was the only subject that came out of Alex's mouth. He should be talking about his latest girlfriend (if he could ever have time and thought for that), or how he scored the winning goal in soccer or something.
How could they do this to a kid, Jack thought. She glanced at her watch. Alex should be home soon. Lunch was ready. Yes, she would tell him…after lunch.
Ooooh, how I hate myself! Not so much of a cliffie, but I feel bad giving a second one to ya! Well, I haven't had any inspiration for a LOOOOOOONG time, so…yah.
Well, let me hear what you think!
LK.