I know I may have mentioned to some of my followers that I was going to stop writing but I got this idea into my head and as you can guess, writing this is much more fun than writing an essay.

I don't own Alex Rider or James Bond or any characters involved in their stories.

(IMPORTANT: Jones = M, Alex (16 yrs) is just allowed to call her Jones, oh and Jack is dead but Alex lives in his Chelsea house, he's emancipated but only on the grounds that he does missions)

Bong Bong Bong

A ball flew up and hit the ceiling only to fall back down to the boy who threw it repeatedly. This boy had his blond hair lying unruly on the living room floor. His body was completely relaxed into the fake wooden styled flooring while his eyes were sharply focused on the tennis ball that kept falling towards him only for him to throw it back at the ceiling.

Alex watched as he created yet another dent in the ceiling. Tennis balls themselves aren't hard objects but, thrown with a strong force, being hit by one would hurt. The ceiling was finding that out with every new paint chip it collected.

Alex was bored. He always was in between missions, what was he supposed to do? He wasn't allowed to go to school, his only friend Tom had school and homework and exams and very little time on his hands.

So Alex would amuse himself one way or another. It had been three days since his last mission and the scratches he had received were starting to fade so he expected a mission soon, or at least he hoped for one. Nothing was more boring than being in a large house by yourself with things that remind you of dead people left, right and centre.

On that thought, Alex was currently contemplating how Jack would be scolding him for damaging the ceiling and so would Ian if he were there. Or maybe Ian would turn it into another training exercise and draw a cross or target in the ceiling and try out Alex's aim.

Alex would never know.

Just as the ball left Alex's hand for the two hundredth and third time (he had counted) the phone began to ring. To most people the interruption to the eerie silence of the house, other than the repetitious thud of the tennis ball, would have made them jump up as high as the tennis ball! Alex, on the other hand, stood up in one quick, swift movement and held out his hand for the tennis ball as it plummeted back down. Alex moved over to the phone and didn't say a word.

"Hello," said a smooth female voice, "this is the Royal and General Bank calling to inform you that there is a problem with one of your accounts with us that requires immediate attention."

"I'll be there in half an hour." Alex replied in a monotonous voice and hung up the phone.

He walked to the doorway and grabbed his brown baggy jacket off a hook and his keys and wallet from the metal bowl on the shelf nearby. Before he left he pulled one of the smalls note from under the bowl. He had two notes there. One of them said Gone out. The one he was currently putting inside his key bowl said Business trip, be back soon. Tom had keys to get into his house since he enjoyed visiting. He came over to see Alex sometimes and other times it was so he did not have to listen to his mother's shrill voice shouting down the phone to either a lawyer stating loop holes in her divorce, her ex-husband complaining about having to pay her as stated in their divorce contract or Jerry who had no choice but to listen as his mother rattled on about how terrible her life is. So next time Tom stopped by and he found that the door was locked, he would find out that Alex wouldn't be home that evening so if it was a personal visit then there was no point staying. If it was an escape visit then he had the house all to himself until Alex got back.

With that Alex walked out of his Chelsea home into the normal gloom and rain of British weather and headed for the nearest tube station to head to his next mission.

Outside the London pub the rain smashed onto the ground frightening off many Thursday afternoon shoppers. There were about as many people inside the pub as there were seen wandering past, so, not very many. Although, there was one very attractive woman seated by herself across the room. Her very non-water resistant coat lay in a wet heap on the chair beside her and her long blond hair fell limply over her shoulders in a damp and unruly mess. To James Bonds' eyes, this just made her more attractive. On her table a phone buzzed and the woman's hand shot to it like an attacking snake pouncing on its unsuspecting prey. The woman's nervous expression fell into an expression that just read sadness.

James picked this moment to attack his prey. He picked up his pint of beer; he had been depressed to find he couldn't get his normal dry martini blend, and headed over to the girls table.

"I don't mean to be a bother but do you mind if I sit there?" James asked casually. The woman looked up at him and then at the empty tables surrounding them looked back up at him.

"I don't mean to be a bother," he continued, "but I was feeling lonely by myself and thought maybe I could find company in this chair here," he put his hand on the chair directly opposite her, "that is, if you don't have company coming?"

The woman nodded and gestured for him to sit down.

"I was supposed to be meeting a blind date but apparently he fears a little bit of rain." The woman said with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"I was supposed to be meeting a friend here and he cancelled for the very same reason," James lied smoothly, "I don't think Britain is the best place for them to live."

They both gazed out of the window at that point and watched as the rain drops raced each other down the glass window keeping them out.

"So, can I get a name from a beautiful lady so I know who to by a drink for?" James asked stimulating the conversation again. The woman blushed slightly.

"Emily." Emily said nervously tucking some hair behind her ear.

"Bond," he replied, "James B-"

At that second James's phone began to ring loudly, echoing in the empty wooden pub.

He clicked on answer.

"You're needed." came the familiar voice of Miss Moneypenny. Hearing her voice made him smirk. He may not be able to flirt with Emily anymore but bantering with Moneypenny was always fun.

"What? Now? But I've still got a drink to finish!" James replied with mocking horror.

"I'm sure the alcohol will be just as nice where ever you're going to end up!" Moneypenny replied sounding bored. James guessed she was looking through some paper work while talking to him.

"What if I end up in the slums?" James asked while his smirk grew slightly.

"I don't think they'd send you to the slums James, you couldn't wear a suit!" Moneypenny replied. James heard paper being rustled and knew he was right. In front of Moneypenny at this very moment was a stack of tedious paper work which required her attention.

"What if there are no pubs nearby or I get sent to an alcohol free country?" James asked knowing that this was starting to annoy her.

"Then grow some balls and think of it as an incentive to complete the mission. The sooner you get back the sooner you can kill your kidneys. Now get your arse over here, she wants to speak to you!" Moneypenny said as she finished yet another page of reading.

James smirked into the phone and hung up and then looked over at Emily who watched him with confusion.

"I'm sorry," James said sounding sincere, "but work calls and I have to dash."

"Alright, well, enjoy whatever you have to go and do." Emily replied awkwardly. Her face fell yet again as another person claimed they were needed elsewhere.

James gave a curt nod, put on his long black jacket and pulled out his small umbrella before walking out to brace the rain.

It is past 1:30 in the morning so good night.

This story will be continued with three reviews (my favourite number is 3).

Oh, and Emily will not be appearing again, it was just to introduce Bond.