A/N: Yeah, I know, I have taken ages to update this and I really am sorry. Unfortunately my muse is... unreliable, and is currently in the middle of a war with my conscience which tells me that I really should be revising. Lucky for you guys, my conscience felt guilty when I logged onto my email and read all your wonderful reviews! So... here you are!
DISCLAIMER: Do I really need to say this? I didn't think so.
***
A nameless man strode down a dark hall. He looked vaguely Asian, and he walked like a dancer, despite the stiff, grey suit he was currently wearing. His shoes carried him silently down the long, dark hall, until he stopped in front of a pair of wide double doors. He paused before knocking. One did not interrupt a director lightly.
But they would want to hear this. He knew they would want to hear this.
Determinedly, he raised his hand and knocked.
"Sir?" he called. "I think you might want to hear this!"
"Hear what?" called an annoyed voice.
The man quickly pulled out a memory stick and loaded it up on the waiting computer. Nervously, he clicked play and waited, while two tinny voices played out of the speakers.
"H-Hello?"
"Hi, Jack, it's me."
***
"Just tell me where you are, I'll come and get you! I-"
"No, Jack. I'm not coming back."
The man terminated the recording and turned to face his fellow directors.
"Do you realise what this means?" asked a woman, a grim smile slowly forming on her sharp features.
"Yes," hissed a man. "Alex Rider is no longer under MI6 protection."
"They will not be able to stop us," murmured another, thoughtfully.
"Gentlemen, Ladies," called the first man over the steadily rising hubbub. "I believe it is time to start seeking our revenge."
***
Alex stood up, wincing as his stiff muscles protested against the sudden movement. Last night had not been fun. He had never enjoyed sleeping rough, especially not in the characteristic English drizzle. If he hadn't left, he would just be sitting down to breakfast – probably burnt, he laughed inwardly – and Jack would be chattering away about nothing, as she did every morning. He had no idea how she managed to be so awake so quickly.
He sighed, wistfully. He missed her already... but not enough to make him reconsider. He was putting her in danger if he stayed and he would never – could never- do that to her.
He walked slowly down around town. He honestly didn't know what he should do now – he hadn't planned that far ahead. Going back to school was out of the question – as was getting a job, for exactly the same reason. He should get out of the city... he had to stay away from people.
His neck prickled, as if someone were watching him. He shuddered and rolled his shoulders. The feeling didn't go away.
He stopped in front of a shop window, pretending to be fascinated by the display. But in reality he looked at the reflections. About four metres behind him were two men, both with their eyes fixed on him.
One approached slowly and touched Alex on the shoulder. Alex forced himself not to attack.
"Agent Rider?" said the man, cautiously.
MI6 then, he mused.
"What is it?" he asked, harshly, not turning around.
"We have orders to bring you to the ba-"
But Alex was off, before the man had time to finish the sentence, running as fast as he could.
He heard the man swear loudly and pounding footsteps as both of them started after him. He ran faster.
People were starting to stare.
"Stop him!" called one of the agents. "He stole my wallet!"
Shit, thought Alex. There was always someone around who was willing to play hero. He swerved down a side alley. And another. If he kept this up, he might be able to lose them.
He swerved down another alley, only to find a dead end.
There were four men standing at the end of it, all with large, serious guns at their hips. Alex turned, preparing to duck back out of the alley, only to find two more men had closed in behind him.
How many agents did MI6 think it would take to bring him in? Alex had been slightly surprised by two, but eight? He was cornered, and so couldn't run. He took the only option left open to him.
He leapt at the men at the entrance to the alley. One of his fists caught one on the chin, while his opposite leg sank into the others gut. Both crumpled to the floor.
Alex felt something whiz past his ear. He turned to find the other men had drawn their guns and were shooting at him.
So not MI6 then. Fuck.
Alex leapt around the corner of the alley and began zigzagging down the next one. A bullet grazed his leg and Alex gritted his teeth as blood began to flow freely down his leg. Another clipped his arm.
He forced himself to move faster, ignoring the burning pain in his thighs. His breath was coming in pants and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep this pace up much longer.
There was another gun shot behind him, followed by a strangled scream. Alex risked a look behind him.
The two MI6 agents who had been tailing him had shown up. One of the Scorpia agents was on the floor.
Alex turned back around just in time to hurdle a toppled wheelie-bin. There was a crash that sounded as if someone had fallen of the bin, but Alex didn't look back again. Another scream echoed around the alley.
Alex saw people walking at the end of the street. HE burst out of the entrance of the alley to find himself back on the main streets, just five minutes walk from the station. He took it at a run.
He arrived two minutes later, earning some odd looks from passersby. He didn't buy a ticket – he didn't have much money on him – but instead simply boarded the first train to leave, diving through the partly closed doors.
He sat, panting, on the floor and looked out of the window cautiously. There was no sign of pursuit.
Slowly his breathing calmed and he stumbled into the toilet. His dubious luck had obviously kicked in – there was no-one in the area between compartments at the moment. He locked the toilet door and carefully rolled down his trousers. Luckily, he was still wearing his black school trousers, so the blood didn't show. He pulled off his shirt and tie, thankful that he always wore a T-shirt under his uniform. He cleaned the cut on his leg as best he could with the tissues provided, before binding it tightly with a large strip of his shirt. Turning his attention to his arm, he noted that it wasn't nearly as bad as the one on his leg, once the blood had been wiped off, although it was bleeding profusely.
Unfortunately, he realised, he couldn't exactly tie a bandage around it without raising even more suspicions. In the end, he tied his tie tightly around his shoulder, under his T-shirt, to act as a tourniquet. It seemed to be working, although his arm was starting to go slightly numb.
He slipped into a compartment and sat down, near the door, carefully positioning himself so that his arm was hidden from view. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep.
He was awoken by the conductor enquiring about his ticket. Glancing out of the window, Alex noted that the buildings and roads of London had been replaced by seemingly never ending fields. It must have been several hours later, for the sun was quite low in the sky.
Alex looked back at the conductor, who was standing impatiently looking at him. He sighed.
"I don't have one, and I can't afford one."
"Sorry, son, you'll have to get off at the next stop. I should take you down to the police station for this."
Alex nodded slowly and stood as the train began to slow down.
He disembarked at a tiny station in the middle of nowhere. It couldn't even really be called a station, just a platform with an almost empty car park placed randomly in the middle of some fields. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't thought further than getting out of London and was now stranded, with no idea where he was, and no option of going further.
Ah, well. At least he'd accomplished the get-away-from-civilisation bit. And he doubted that Scorpia or MI6 could find out where he was when even he didn't know.
He sighed, there was no point hanging around here, anyway. HE should probably try and find some shelter for the night. He looked out at the fields. A few miles away, the fields seemed to give out into woods. Alex paused, thinking about all the survival lessons he had been given by Ian. He could probably find shelter in there. Sighing, he began to walk.
***
James walked through the wood next to his brother, Sebastian. It was a cold night, and the woods were dark, despite the moon, bright overhead. He could hear Neil some way off, tramping through the undergrowth. He sighed, if Missy heard him, she would probably run a mile. He had tried to point out that he would be more successful in finding the blasted cat alone, but Maria had had that look on her face. She was almost as good at scary as their grandmother. Wolf didn't know why he was surprised; Maiara had probably been teaching her since she was able to walk.
A flash of white caught his eye and he quickly turned his head. He started to walk forward, as quietly as he could, motioning to Seb to stay still. He stopped on the edge of the clearing and looked around. It wasn't the cat that had caught his attention. It was a boy.
He was white faced and shivering, with mud covering his once-black trousers, and several rips tearing the cloth. James growled. What kind of idiot kid would come out in just a T-shirt at this time of night?
He pushed past the ferns blocking his way and stood in front of the kid.
"What are you doing here?" he said, his voice low and rough. "Shouldn't you be at home?"
The kid didn't respond and James took a closer look at him. He was deathly pale, and shivering far more than was reasonable for the relatively mild summer night.
"Hey, kid!" he said, just a little louder.
Finally the kid responded, his face jerking upwards. James blinked as his gaze was met by a pair of familiar brown eyes.
"Cub?"
***
A/N: Ok, you know the drill: you all want to make me ecstatically happy by reviewing!