Disclaimer - I do not own Alex Rider, etc., etc.
Now that that's cleared up, onwards!
The moment Ben Daniels stepped foot on British soil, he immediately hailed a taxi to Liverpool Street. Dragging along a poorly-packed suitcase, all eyes were on his dishevelled state when he entered the quiet reception area of the Royal and General bank. Usually, he didn't like being stared at, but at the moment, he couldn't care less. He marched up to the receptionist, a young lady with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail.
"Hello sir, how may I –"
"I need to see Blunt and Mrs. Jones," Ben impatiently cut off.
"I'm sorry, but there are no such people who go by those names working here." The receptionist gave him a sympathetic look. "Maybe if you tell me what you're –"
Ben just shook his head. "I need to see them."
"Sir, they don't work here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave ..."
"No." Ben's tone gave no room for argument. The receptionist stayed quiet, eyes wide. "I don't have time for this. Tell Blunt this is an emergency; that Alex is in trouble. If he dies because you're being so goddamn thick to not know when to keep the act and when to drop it, I'm going to hold you personally responsible. Is Blunt here now?"
"Of-of course. I'll let him know you're here," she stuttered. With shaking fingers, she dialled up to Blunt.
Ben took a deep breath, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He didn't mean to scare the lady, but honestly, this was a matter of Alex surviving or not.
"He said he's in an important conference, but he'll be right with you as soon as he's done. You can take a seat in the meantime," she said, recovering.
"How long?"
"He didn't say specifically. Maybe ten minutes?"
"Thank-you," Ben said fervently.
He lugged his suitcase towards a waiting chair and sat down. He stared at the suitcase, filled with his and Alex's things. Ben wasn't sure why he packed. When he saw the mess in the hospital with the fried rice spilled everywhere in Alex's room and the empty bed, he knew Alex was captured, and that he had to return to England right that instant. But still, he first returned to the hotel they were temporarily staying at and began to pack – if you could call cramming things in a suitcase that. Maybe there was something calming about that simple action. To be doing something useful with space to think around it.
Ten minutes became twenty minutes. Twenty became thirty. Thirty –
"It's been forty-five minutes," growled Ben. "I thought it was only going to take only ten."
"Well... I don't know..."
Ben stood up and walked over to the receptionist, abandoning his suitcase. "Maybe you should call again."
"Mr. Blunt wouldn't like to be disturbed..."
"Fine then." Ben's patience was finally pushed past the limit. He was about to stomp his way up to Blunt's office, invited or not, when the intercom from the receptionist's desk droned, "Send Agent Daniels up" in a dull voice.
Ben glared at the intercom before heading off to the elevator. His finger stabbed at the button that would lead to Blunt's floor.
When Ben entered the room, Blunt was looking over some files and Mrs. Jones was sitting to Blunt's left with a laptop open in front of her. After a long moment, Mrs. Jones glanced up, finally acknowledging his presence.
"Hello, Agent Daniels. Have a seat." Mrs. Jones gestured to one of the chairs.
She continued. "From what I heard, the mission was a success besides the ... mishap ... with Agent Rider. The USB has been more than helpful. In fact, just now, I've been looking through it." Ben could see the familiar flash drive sticking out of the laptop's port. He hadn't noticed previously, but under the room light with no sunlight to reflect off of it, he could see a small lotus flower insignia engraved on the end of it.
"How is Alex, anyway?" Mrs. Jones inquired.
"Alex's been captured."
"How do you know this?" Blunt spoke for the first time.
"When I returned to the hospital, he wasn't there."
"Perhaps he wandered off on his own out of curiosity. It wouldn't be the first time," Blunt replied smoothly.
"The food I had left for him the night before he was captured was all over the place. His sheets on the bed were strewn. Clearly, there was struggle in the room and he didn't leave on his free will."
"We'll have to look into that." Mrs. Jones nodded in agreement, while unwrapping a peppermint and popping it into her mouth.
"What is there to look into?" Ben demanded. "I think it's quite obvious what happened." He paused. "Has he sent a distress signal?"
Blunt looked over to Mrs. Jones. "Has he?"
"Yes, he has."
"There you go," Ben said.
"But is it not possible that he pressed it by mistake? Or activated the signal unknowingly when he bumped his wrist against a wall?" Blunt coolly asked.
Ben Daniels was furious, but willed himself to not show it on his face. He took a deep, calming breath. He knew they were difficult people to talk to – no, scratch that; they were impossible – but this was beyond absurd. Did they honestly believe Alex would "accidentally" press the distress button when he wasn't really in trouble? Ben realized a fragment of truth in Blunt's words. Alex had once told him they didn't care about him. Ben hadn't believed it at the time. Surely, they weren't that heartless...
"But from what I heard, you're their indispensable agent."
"It doesn't matter. They don't send back-up. Ever."
"Maybe they're just late? And missed you because you've already escaped by yourself."
"I used to convince myself that. In fact, I still do, when I'm that desperate .But they don't. That's the truth. They think I can handle it myself. That – or they pretend I wasn't even captured in the first place."
But now, he realized the trueness in Alex's words. They were thick-skinned enough to claim Alex wasn't kidnapped even with himself pushing Alex's case forward. They just couldn't care less.
"I don't think he pressed it by mistake" – deep breath (he would not get angry) – "it's just seems unlikely, you know?" – He tried to say that with as much sincerity as he could. It wouldn't help Alex if he couldn't even speak rationally and reasonably with their employers, however impossible they were. He was pretty sure some sarcasm leaked through even with the effort.
It couldn't be helped, Ben thought to himself.
"And, from the fact that he's missing, his room at the hospital looked like there was a fight and he's sent a distress signal, probably not by accident," – deep breath (don't get angry, Ben, don't get angry) – "I think he's been captured. It all points in that direction." Deep breath.
"You couldn't possible know for sure since the 'captors' haven't left any notes and you didn't see it yourself. Aside from all that, I think you've made quite a plausible point. It won't be ruled out," Blunt said.
Ben hated how Blunt made it appear like Alex being taken was only a small, if not well-reasoned possibility. Like it had never occurred to him before. Like it all made sense, but he still wasn't sure about it, and for Ben's sake, he would look into it.
"In a few days, I'll send some men over to investigate and see what they make of the struggle you say took place. From there, we'll decide on what course of action we should take next to Alex's disappearance."
"I don't think Alex will last that long, if he's been captured." He tried not to let any of his irritation seep through, but it was a lost cause. He looked at Mrs. Jones pleadingly. Alex had told him that Mrs. Jones always had a soft spot for him because of his age and because he reminded her of her lost children. "I mean, Alex is strong for his age and extraordinary no doubt, but I don't think even he can survive through torture or god knows what else those people will do to him for that long."
Mrs. Jones said slowly, "If what Agent Daniels says is true, maybe we should send in a rescue team. Agent Daniels could lead it, and Alex would be saved. The whole operation wouldn't take that long anyway, and we would have Alex back in our hands."
Blunt seemed to think about it.
Mrs. Jones went on. "If Alex really is being tortured, and we left him, he would be hospitalized for some time. The sooner we get to him, the less time he'll need to recover. On the other hand, if Alex isn't captured, then this has all been a silly mistake, but no harm done."
Ben could see the calculative look in Blunt's eyes. Blunt eventually nodded, apparently agreeing with Mrs. Jones' reasoning.
"Thank-you," Ben whispered.
"Head down to Smithers and see if he can produce the location of Alex's watch."
Ben looked at Mrs. Jones with a questioning look. "I thought it could only send signals."
"His watch can also continuously send coordinates from when it's first been activated, so we'll be able to pinpoint Alex even if he's moved locations."
Mrs. Jones took out another peppermint.
As she was peeling the wrapper, she said, "Once you're done, come back up and we'll discuss the rescue mission you'll be leading."
Sucking on the mint, Mrs. Jones returned to her work on the laptop, having forgotten about Ben already.
Alex felt dead. No, he wished he was dead.
Everything hurt.
Currently, he was chained to the walls of some dungeon-like place in the underground area of the Scorpia Headquarters. He was injured all over and was seriously in need of some water. Not that he'd get any.
He didn't dare glance down at the bloody mess that his body became. It was sickening, really, and the last thing he wanted was to puke (that is, if he had any food in his system, which he didn't.) He was drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, a delirious state, because of the latest session he had. The man had used only a whip this time, but it had hurt more than ever because of his already existing injuries.
He had screamed and cried and whimpered and begged, like they wanted him to – everything he refused to do in the beginning – but still, they gave him no reprieve. They wouldn't stop hurting him. They wouldn't let him die.
When he first arrived, a guard had took his watch and stepped on it. They allowed him to keep the stud earring though.
"But it's a gadget, no doubt."
"I know," the man with the ginger hair said. "I've even heard that it will explode after a few seconds of removing it."
"I'll be careful in disposing it, if that's what you're trying to say."
"Oh no. I think we'll let him keep it. What can he do, all chained up like this?"
The guard smirked. "Nothing."
"Exactly. And I want him to have a way of escaping, yet unable to use it. The pain of how it's there, but out of reach."
The ginger-haired man strode over to Alex, and lifted up his chin with a finger.
"Isn't that right, Rider? Don't you feel that way? If only you could just take that earring, and explode the door with it."
Alex was silent.
The truth was, the stud earring didn't explode. Many stud earrings Alex wore previously did, but this one was another kind of gadget. It was a recording device that was activated when removed. The backing of the earring could stick to just about any surface, and record up to twenty minutes' worth of conversation before self-destructing. The recorded material would be transmitted to the earring itself, which could be listened to on the computer when plugged into the earphone port. The earring looked too small to fit in an earphone port properly, but Smithers said it would fit in a special way. Alex, who was doubtful when he was first told this, didn't see any reason why not anymore – Smithers was a remarkable gadget-maker.
So, no, Alex did not feel whatever pain the ginger-haired man had intended, but he did feel a loss for the watch. There went his distress signal.
And whatever hope he had.
But that wasn't completely true.
Alex was in extreme pain, but the thing about Riders was that they didn't easily break. His soul was intact, and therefore, some smidgen of hope did exist. That was what allowed him to keep fighting despite how much the other part of him – the larger part, by far – wanted to die, wanted to give up.
Faintly, an internal ticking was heard by Alex. Alex distantly knew he didn't have much time left. It was the soft ticking of a backwards clock. While everyone's clock went forward, his was counting down to zero.
He wasn't sure when he started hearing it – it sounded so real – but now that it started, there wasn't anything Alex could do except wait.
Alex found he was neither sad nor happy, in the end. It was just how things go.
It was a persistent ticking in the background that wouldn't let Alex sleep, not until it reached the end.
Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic...
It was all he could hear, besides his own laboured breaths.
The door to his cell creaked open.
Alex didn't look up; just squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't think he could take any more pain. No, no, no, please. It's too soon. The man wasn't supposed to be back yet. No, please...
He hadn't even realized he muttered the last part aloud.
"Oh Alex... what did they do to you?" It was spoken so softly, Alex was sure it wasn't meant for his ears.
He glanced up with desperate eyes and stared at the man.
"I'm imaging things, aren't I? You're not really there. Nobody's coming," Alex whispered.
Tears began to well up in Alex's eyes and he tried to blink them away, but they spilled over anyway – humiliating tears he couldn't stop. He didn't know why he was crying. He looked at the ground.
The man quickly walked over to Alex and freed him from the chains. With nothing holding Alex up anymore, he fell limp into the man's arms.
He was so tired. More tired than anything else at the moment. He could sleep for a thousand years and not wake.
Almost as if sensing how tired Alex was, the man said, "Sleep, Alex; you're safe now."
Any guesses to who that person is? I'm a pretty predictable person when writing, so it shouldn't be that hard to figure out... And, I don't write very subtlely (I try, I really do xD). So why are you still reading this story? I don't know. But I promise, if you stick with this story, I won't ditch it and say something like "I've lost all inspiration". The plot has been sorted out.
Drop a review if you can, ok? It'll make my day ;)
{storage-jar}