SUPERNOVA

DISCLAIMER: I'm not AH. I think that's kind of obvious.

CHAPTER THREE

I'M A BIG KID NOW

"So what is it this time?" asked Alex, sighing, sitting at Blunt's desk in MI6 headquarters. "Let me guess, you want me to water your plants when you're away on vacation. They surely need it," he added, poking one of the dead plants on the desk.

"I don't take vacations, Mr. Rider," said Blunt tightly.

"And it's a sad thing too. You know, I had a great time on Skeleton Key, except for the fact that I was nearly killed every minute or so and I had to stop an evil psychopath—who wanted to adopt me, incidentally—from blowing up half of Europe. But the beaches were fantastic—"

"Alex, don't be smart," ordered Mrs. Jones, almost as if she was his mother.

"Can I be snarky then? Or argumentative? Or should I settle for being a manipulative, devious, ruthless machine? Maybe I should leave that to you. You seem to have it down pat."

"Alex. Stop."

"I can't help it. I was born with a witty sense of sarcasm, a huge intellect, and the gift of being incredibly attractive."

"Without, evidently, a modicum of modesty," observed Blunt dryly.

"It doesn't go with the territory," agreed Alex.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Mrs. Jones sat down too, and folded her hands in her lap. She was sucking on yet another peppermint.

"You're not sorry about anything, Mrs. Jones," the boy stated.

"I can think of one thing," she replied. "I'm sorry that we turned you into this."

"I was born like this. It's in my genes . You knew my father, of course. You kept secrets about him from me for years and years, until I was forced to join Scorpia because I had been led to believe you had killed him...yes, that would come under the heading of 'knowing' him. In any case, I take after him. I'm heart-stoppingly handsome. I've got an amazing intelligence…and, sadly enough, the skills of a spy."

Alex was putting on a façade—a sarcastic, conceited shell, a shield that hid the raw pain, the vulnerability inside him. He knew these people could do anything they wanted. They'd manipulated him and forced their hand too often for him to trust them—if anything, he felt the opposite. The wall he'd built between himself and reality was fragile, threatening to shatter at any moment.

Mrs. Jones rattled off a list, all calculation, no feeling. "Without those 'skills', all England would be dead from smallpox, Washington would be a wreckage, Europe would be a radioactive fallout zone ten times worse than the aftermath of Chernobyl, the world would be run by sixteen super-rich, evil clones of Dr. Grief, I would be dead—"

Alex cut her off with a sneer. "The greatest tragedy of all."

"Alex, can you listen to me, please?" pleaded Mrs. Jones. Alex hesitated, then sat back and insolently put his feet up on the desk.

"I'm all ears. And did I mention insanely good looks?"

"ALEX." Mrs. Jones closed her eyes for a second. "We need you to do something for us. We can't do it…but you can."

"What? Dress in clothes from this decade?" scoffed Alex, eyeing the agents' boxy, outdated clothes.

"We were thinking more…save the world."

"Because that's something I do every day. Note the non-sarcasm."

"You've done it at least five times in the past year. That's quite an impressive resume."

"Excellent. I'm sure McDonalds will take that into account when I apply for a job there. I'll smoke the rest of the competition for burger-flipping."

"The way things are going…hopefully, you'll be with us instead of McDonalds."

Alex stood up, serious, grim. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned in towards the government officials. He kept his voice low, but spoke in a determined, forceful tone. "I will never be one of you. If that's what you brought me here a year ago to become, I'm leaving this place. Now and forever."

He walked out before they could stop him, half-formed thoughts running through his mind. Sure, they probably had a legitimate mission for him…and yet, he was afraid that the more assignments he undertook, the more he'd turn into the same lifeless, ruthless machine as the two agents he knew.

He couldn't risk that.

He power-walked to the entrance of the Royal & General, where he was met by a bulky security guard with a silly uniform. Like they need him with a hundred deadly agents in the building, scoffed Alex inwardly.

But was he counted among their number?

"Going somewhere, m'boy?" asked the guard with a mockery of geniality.

"Yeah." Alex did not want to have to kick the man in the balls and start a mini-war within the faux bank, but if this continued, it might be his only option.

"Jones and Blunt aren't done with you yet, m'boy."

"Why is everyone calling me that today?" inquired Alex of the world, truly irritated now.

"You are a boy," pointed out the guard reasonably.

"Yes," replied Alex. "A very well-trained one." He kicked the man aside, stepping over him when he fell. He was met by two plainclothes agents that he took down quickly with a couple karate chops. More and more MI6 agents were converging on the scene, shouting, yelling orders—it was mayhem, just as Alex had predicted. Special operatives were elbowing each other, trying to pull out guns in the melee, while Alex slipped away through the doors, leaving chaos in his wake.

"Alex! Alex!"

Alex looked up in surprise. Mrs. Jones was leaning out of a window, all decorum and secrecy abandoned in her urgency to talk to him. "You don't understand, Alex! These are higher stakes than ever before! It's not just Scorpia—"

Alex was done with the lot of them. Scorpia could blow up the world and take him with it for all he cared. He opened his mouth and yelled one last parting shot.

"Scorpia can go screw themselves. And so can you."

He caught one look of hopelessness—and oddly enough, pain— on her face before he turned away and lost himself in the crowd, never to darken the doorstep of Royal & General again.

A/N: Oh, I love Alex in this chapter. He's done with MI6…or is he? And I have a sneaking suspicion the "well-trained boy" line came from somewhere, but I can't think of where…oh well. I did make him snarkier and ruder than normal, but hey, I'd be pretty fed up too. I had fun writing this one…oh, and thanks to the Stormbreaker movie for the kick-the-guard-in-the-balls thing.

Review reply time!

TheNotedMusician: Why thank you. Uh…don't think I've seen the movies. They're the ones with Matt Damon right?

Jazz_Dancer: Et voila!

Cookies to any of you who caught the Mortal Instruments reference last chapter.

Next chapter: Things go boom (!!), Alex wears a tux (!!), and Jack cusses (!!).

Sienna