Disclaimer; I do not own Alex Rider, or any of Anthony Horowitz's Characters. Please don't sue me I have no money.
Author's Note; Ok so this is rated R for a reason; there will be swearing, adult situations, and hopefully some explosions. If that kind of thing offends you don't read it. If you review I will update faster, flames are also welcome as they make me laugh.
Much love,
Lavalata
Operation; Pack
Chapter One; Welcome Home
Alex Rider walked along the street toward his house. It was raining, and he tugged his ball-cap down over his eyes. Water dripped down his back. He had been followed, for most of the day by a black BMW, always a few hundred feet away. But still he knew, they were waiting for him to do something. He just wasn't sure what something was.
Alex turned abruptly down an alley, then up on to the top of a dumpster. From there he pulled himself up onto a fire-escape, then up the ladder slick with rain. It was difficult going but he made it to the forth floor before the men in the car could follow him.
He knew the apartment was for rent, there had been signs out front of the building all week. Alex jammed his elbow into the window, the glass shattering into the empty room.
He climbed through and hurried out into the main room, and straight into MI-6 Agent John Crawley.
"Now, now Alex, where do you think you're going?" Agent Crawley pushed Alex face first into the wall.
"Hold still." He said, pulling off Alex's backpack and tugging his arms behind his back.
"Now Alex no great escape attempts alright?" Crawley slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. "Just in case." Crawley said. "Now nice and easy out to the car. You know the one. It's been following you all day."
Agent Crawley grabbed him by the arm, and they walked silently down the four flights of stairs and out to the waiting car.
"In we get." Agent Crawley pushed Alex into the back middle seat, than slid in next to him.
"Where are we going?" Alex asked as soon as the door closed.
"Sorry Alex, I can't tell you that." Crawley paused then continued. "Look if you promise not to make a run for it we can go to your house so you can pack some things. Alright?"
Alex nodded his head; they obviously wanted him pretty badly this time. And he did want some of the things from his house.
They pulled up in front of the brown stone Alex called home. Crawley slid out taking Alex with him; they walked into the house flanked by the other two agents.
"Where's Jack?" Alex asked, she had been there this morning when he left.
"She's been removed to the states. Don't worry about her. I've made sure she is with her family." Crawley said.
"Are you going to unlock these?" Alex asked turning and holding out his hands.
"Sorry Alex," Crawley said laughing. "I saw the reports on you escape in Edinburgh. You can tell me what to pack."
"Fine. All of the photographs, they're in that album on the shelf there. And the Agatha Christie books on the middle shelf. There is a duffle bag you can put them in, in the hall closet." Alex looked around the room again, wishing he could take all of the things in it with him.
"Anything else?" Crawley asked.
"Yeah, the gun in the desk drawer. Careful it's loaded. And my clothes, they're upstairs."
"Any preference?"
"Blue jeans, and T-Shirts, and the jacket in the closet." Alex said, the other agents each grabbed one of his arms to lead him out of the house. Alex tugged them to a stop.
"My uncle's and my dad's dog tags are in my bedside table drawer. Can you get them to?" Alex asked.
"Yeah Alex, I'll get them." Crawley promised.
ARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARAR
Alex was so tiered. He had been up for hours. First they had driven under the Channel, and then on to Paris for a short stop at a bank that was of course was not really a bank. Then he had been put in the back of an armored truck. Now they had been driving for ages, at least six hours.
His arms were killing him, Crawley had refused to let him go. To be fair he had a good reason. Alex had broken out of the car the last time Crawley had tried to transport him. Still to be understanding while ridding in the back of an icy cold armored truck soaking wet from the rain was difficult.
Suddenly the truck slowed and then speed up then stopped again. The truck turned off and the doors opened. Alex scrambled to his feet squinting out into the dark.
"Hello Alex." Said a very familiar voice.
"Blunt." Alex acknowledged, the two agents gripped his arms and pulled him out into a gated courtyard.
"How are you doing tonight Alex?" Blunt asked.
"Piss off Blunt. What's your scam this time?" Alex snapped as the agents manhandled him into a building that looked like some kind of military bunker.
"Nice to see you again Alex. It has been a while." A woman in a gray suit, and sucking on a peppermint said.
"Mrs. Jones." Alex greeted her with a scowl.
"How long has he been in those wet clothes?" Mrs. Jones asked Crawley.
"Um, since we picked him up." Crawley looked at his feet. "I was worried he might try and slip away again."
"Well I hardly think he has anywhere to go here. Take him to change and then bring him to the conference room." Mrs. Jones said she was halfway to the door when she turned around on her high-heel. "Welcome home Alex." She said.
He would have come up with a snappy retort but the agents were already hauling him off into the bunker, Crawley following behind them.
They wound their way down several dim, concrete corridors until they came to a door. Crawley unlocked the handcuffs.
"There's a towel in there along with your bag…sans gun I might add. Alex please no funny business ok?" Crawley practically begged.
"Yeah, Yeah what ever." Alex said shoving his way passed the agents.
At least the facilities had been updated since the bunkers conception. Alex striped down and folded his wet clothing and put them by the bag. No need to give them a reason to toss out some of his favorite jeans.
Alex stepped into the shower and thanked god for hot water heaters. Twenty minuets later Crawley was banging on the door, and Alex reluctantly shut off the shower and got dressed in another pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweatshirt. As an after thought he added both his father's and his uncle's dog tags tucking them inside his shirt to hang next to the golden cylinder he always wore.
When Alex left the room Crawley relived him of his bag, and passed it off to another agent. Crawley led him down another maze of passages and Alex was shoved into the conference room, though perhaps he should call it the debriefing room. This was MI-6 after all. Crawley pushed Alex into a chair at the end of the table and pulled his arms behind him locking them together with zip ties.
"Nice welcome." He said to Tulip Jones the MI-6 deputy director who was sitting at the other end of the table.
"Considering our last debriefing when you tried your best to strangle Mr. Blunt, I think I'm being more than reasonable." She said, popping a red and white stripped peppermint into her mouth.
"You threatened to deport Jack." Alex said.
"Well now we have Alex. You're eighteen, and you are going to volunteer for MI-6. If you don't the Americans will be arresting Jack and holding her with out charges or bail under the Patriot Act. She will spend the rest of her life in prison if you refuse." Mrs. Jones said, absentmindedly tapping her pen against a manila folder.
Alex stared at the stainless steel table in font of him; he didn't really have a choice. Jack had sacrificed every thing for him, having a normal life, a boy friend, a family; he wouldn't sentence her to a life spent in an American prison.
"How long?" Alex asked. He clenched his teeth together. "How long would I have to serve?"
"Till you are old enough to retire." She answered.
"How long is that?" Alex asked.
"You would be fifty five." She said, her pen no longer tapping.
"I'll be an old man." Alex said, his chest clenching at what he was about to do. "I'm in."
"Good. We have several procedures we need to perform then you will be debriefed for your first mission." Mrs. Jones waved her hand and Crawley and the other agents lifted him by his arms and lead him out of the room, just before he reached the hallway he turned around.
"I'll come after you, you know. When I'm out. I'll get you… you and Blunt. I'll make both of you pay." He swore.
"I know." She said. And then Alex was dragged out of the room and down the dark hallway.
"So where to now?" He asked Crawley. "Are we going to go see the ghost of my Christmas's past."
"Don't get smart Alex. Just a few simple procedures and then you can get some sleep." Crawley led Alex through a door and into what looked like a dentist office.
"Good it's been a hell of a day." Alex snarked.
"I hate to brake it to you Alex but it's about to get a lot worse." Crawley said as he clipped the zip ties on Alex's wrists with a pair of scissors pushing him into the chair. Crawley tied his wrists to the arms of the chair with two more zip ties from one of his pockets.
"What's the game Crawley?" Alex demanded but Crawley wasn't listening to him.
"We're all good in here Doctor you may enter." Crawley called out and the door opened admitting a man in a white lab coat.
"What are you doing?' Alex asked; as his head was forced forward and his shirt collar pulled down to reveal his neck.
"This is a tracking devise," the man in the lab coat said holding up what looked like a plastic gun. 'We implant it in your neck and it provides a GPS latitude and longitude of your location. Hold still and it wont hurt as much." The Doctor grabbed the scruff of Alex's neck and put the gun against his skin.
"Slight pinch." The Doctor said and Alex felt like his neck had burst into flames.
"Shit." Alex swore, wrenching away from the people holding him. 'You call that a fucking slight pinch?' Alex snapped.
"All done now Alex." Crawley said, and the doctor left. His hands were released and he held them out to Crawley.
"You going to tie me up?" He asked, Crawley smiled and snapped another pair of zip ties around his wrists. "I hope you guys have stock in a zip tie company. At the rate you use them MI-6 could keep them in business all by their lonesome." Crawley didn't comment just lead Alex further down the hall where they were joined by Mrs. Jones. Still none of them spoke. Alex because he didn't want to give them the satisfaction of asking where they were going, and the agents because they were unaccustomed to explaining anything they did. They made their way down several ramps and then onto an industrial sized elevator.
There was only one button in the elevator but there where two solders with AK-47's and grenades inside it. It didn't take long for the lift to stop. Alex guessed they went down two floors. The doors opened on a dark hallway and the armed guards followed them out of the lift.
The small hallway opened up into a large room that looked very much like a warehouse. It was huge, with pitched ceilings, and metal walls with steal girders punctuated with what looked like submarine doors every few meters.
The furnishing were sparse, but there was a couch and some mismatched arm chairs clustered around a flat screen TV, a pool table, and a long stainless steel table much like the one in the debriefing room. Alex wondered if they bought them in bulk. And all around the table were people. And armed guards, one behind each of them. At the head of the table was Director Alan Blunt.
Crawley led Alex over to the only vacant chair and he sat down.
"Well," said Blunt. "Now that we are all assembled." He handed a large stack of folders to one of the agents behind him and he began to pass them out. Alex would have flipped through the one placed in front of him but his hands were still zip tied behind his back.
"I know that all of you usually work alone, but that is no longer the case. Please meet your new teammates." Blunt said, smirking for the first time since Alex had met him.
But Blunt did not hold his attention for long, his new "teammates" were far more intriguing. He examined them closely, working his way counter-clockwise around the table.
The boy immediately to his left couldn't have been more than fourteen years old, with curly hair that fell in a mop over his head. He was wearing a bright green shirt, with some kind of picture on it.
Then there was a man, with dirty brown hair, who was probably around twenty seven or twenty eight.
Next to him was a girl, blond and very pretty with blue eyes and a murderous expression aimed at Blunt. She was about sixteen or seventeen. Then Alan Blunt at the head of the table, unchanged in all the years Alex had known him.
After Blunt came a surprise. It was wolf. The SAS man Alex had gone through training with. He smiled slightly at Alex when their eyes met, and gave him a nod of hello. Alex nodded back. He and Wolf had a sort of truce, maybe even a friendship.
Then there was another young kid with short spiky brown hair about sixteen years old, and starring morosely at the table.
After him was another girl, Alex put her age at any were between twenty seven and thirty years old with black hair cut stylishly to just below her chin with bangs covering her forehead.
Next was another surprise, more of a surprise then Wolf had been, because Alex was sure that this man was dead. Because Alex was sure he had watched him die on board Air Force One.
Yassen Gregorovich. Sitting across the table from him looking older but very much alive. He winked at Alex when he saw him staring, and Alex quickly averted his gaze to the next person at the table.
The other head of the table was occupied by a woman. Her hair was startlingly white and so was her skin, her nose was slightly hooked and sharp gray eyes took every thing in. Despite her hair color Alex was pretty sure she was only as old as Yassen.
Then there was a girl, with dark hair cut short and styled with product, she was his age, Alex guessed. And even though she wasn't the definition of perfect beauty there was some thing about her that screamed confidence.
There was an older man, after the girl. He had tufty blond hair that was streaked with gray and he sat in his chair like it was a throne. After him was a brunette girl about fifteen years old who seemed to be dosing.
And next to Alex was a man, not much older then he, slumped over and taking breaths in a way that told Alex he had a t least two cracked ribs. His left eye was blackened and a cut through his eyebrow was leaking blood down his check. It was impossible to tell his nationality, he could have been a light skinned Indian or middle eastern, or a tan Caucasian, his dark hair was cut very short, and a medallion of some sort hung from his neck.
Blunt was speaking again. "For the next three months you will live together, eat together, and train together. You will be perfect. When the alarm sounds you will have twenty minuets to get ready to go. If you need any thing, tell Crawley here and he'll get it for you. Any questions?" Blunt scanned the table. "Alright, the file that is given to you contains all the information you will need on your new team mates. Your room has your code name on the door. Have a nice night." Blunt stood, and left the room his agent detail following in his wake. One of the many other agents passed around folders, setting them on the table in front of the 'team.'
"Every one against the wall." Crawley said, and Alex was yanked to his feet once more and shoved into a cold metal wall. "You are all to remain still as we unlock your hands. You will not move until the alarm sounds." Alex felt the ties on his hands being cut, but he didn't move. It just wasn't worth it. He couldn't win and he really only wanted to go to sleep.
Apparently every one else had the same idea, because no one moved until a loud blaring echoed through the room. Then there was a flurry of movement. Alex turned around and was suddenly face to face with Wolf.
"Hello Cub." Wolf said, holding out his hand. Alex took it and gave a firm squeeze.
"It's Hawke, now actually. But Alex works to." Wolf grinned.
"It'll be good to work together again. See you in the morning…Cub." Wolf turned and snatched his folder off the table, then disappeared into the door with 'Wolf' written on it.
Alex smiled; he would enjoy working with Wolf. He was about to collect his own file when another man blocked his path.
"Hello Yassen, your looking rather better then I expected." Alex snarled, glaring at the former SCORPIA assassin.
"I guess I am minus a few worms. It is good to see you again Alex, I have heard a great many things about the man you have become. I can't wait to see if they are true." Yassen began to walk away.
"Hey Yassen, beobachten Sie meinen Rücken, wenn ich Sie war. Streukugeln geschehen sogar mit den besten Meisterschützen." Alex called. I would watch my back if I were you. Stray bullets happen even to the best marksmen.
Yassen Laughed and disappeared through one of the doors. Alex was about to try and find his own cell when he heard the low moan. It was coming from the man who had sat next to Alex at the table, at some point he seemed to have slumped to the floor and was having some problems regaining his feet.
Alex, might have ignored him like every one else had, but he couldn't help remembering all the times MI-6 had left him to yank himself up with an injury.
"Here let me help." Alex said kneeling down and hooking one of the man's arms around his shoulder.
"Thanks." Alex and the man made it to their feet with out to much difficulty.
"What's your code name?" Alex asked.
"Jaguar. The door's over there." He raised his arm that wasn't draped around Alex's shoulders keeping him upright, and pointed to a door across the room. The room was basic, and military. There was a bed that was a little bigger then a twin, a plastic footlocker, two bed side tables, and a desk. The covers on the bed were military green, and tan. Every thing was simple.
"Welcome to MI-6's version of gourmet living." Alex said setting Jaguar down on the bed. "You got a first aid kit in your stuff?" He asked.
"Yeah it's in the backpack." Jaguar said. Alex soon found the kit, it was much better stocked then a normal kitchen one.
"How did you end up like this any way?" Alex asked.
"MI-6 didn't like my reaction to their invitation to join this little party, apparently they don't like it when you beat up their agents. I couple of them worked me over once I was chained up." Jaguar wiped some of the blood off of his face. "Thanks for the help, uh I don't actually know who you are."
"Oh, Alex Rider or Hawke if you prefer." Alex said holding out his hand.
"Kale Firth, every one calls me Jag." Jag took Alex's hand and the shook.
"It's good to meet you Jag. I'll see you in the morning then."
"Bright and early, if I know Blunt, the gray-faced weasel." Alex laughed and made his way to his own room. It was a carbon copy of Jag's room. Crawley or some other agent had put all of his stuff on the bed. On top of the duffle were the gun and a note from Crawley.
Alex
Sorry, no bullets. Sleep well.
Crawley
Alex laughed, poor Crawley. He was always falling for Alex's tricks. He reached into his shirt and removed the chain with the decorative gold tube on it. Alex unscrewed the top and poured a single bullet into his palm. When would they learn to stop underestimating him? Alex slid the bullet into the gun's chamber and slipped it under his pillow.