Author: Valak PM
He was captured, they abandoned him. He was trained by the best and now he is forced to confront the past that left him behind. Alex never truly understood how to reach his flashpoint until the heat was turned on him. Warning: this story has similar incidents to the Aurora, Colorado shooting. My thoughts go out to the families of all those involved.Rated: Fiction T - English - Alex R./Cub & Yassen G. - Words: 2,394 - Reviews: 49 - Favs: 60 - Follows: 57 - Published: 06-06-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5117141
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This plot bunny would not leave me alone while I was writing Veracity so I'm finally letting it out. I apologize in advance about the poor grammar of the story but I really need to finish the next chapter of Veracity. Enjoy!
A flashpoint is the lowest temperature at which a liquid will ignite. It is something that was taught at every secondary school in Britain. Every student who attended class regularly would know the term. It was a common question on the GCSE's and thusly pounded repetitively into their brains. Alex Rider, however, did not attend classes so he would not know. In fact he had not attended classes since he was eight, since he died. Alex Rider had been killed when by terrorists. That, of course, was not what his class had been told when they were paraded in front of the casket. They had been told that Alex Rider had died on the night of January 11, 1995, killed by a robber in his house. The story was a half-lie. Alex Rider had died on that night, but Alik Gregorovitch had been born.
Alik had attended classes much like his old year mates, but these were not the classes of a school boy. While they had been learning about photosynthesis, Alik had been learning about poisons. When they had been learning about the Pythagorean Theorem in Maths, Alik had been calculating the correct wind speed and velocity at which the optimum shooting time would be. And while they were learning about flashpoints Alik Gregorovitch had been mixing the elements necessary to make a C-4 explosive.
Despite all this, Alik knew about flashpoints, he had learned about those 3 years ago when he was being lead through the full list of ways to kill people by his father. He also knew that liquids weren't the only things with flashpoints. People had them too. He had witnessed many men at their flashpoints, he had seen the strength that seemed to come with the all consuming rage as something they held dear was ripped away. Sometimes it was a wife, a child, or even an old friend. He had seen them, he had observed them, and then he had killed them.
Alik Gregorovitch knew all about flashpoints except what his was. He had often pondered it after he had seen someone else at theirs but he never could think of anything that would give him enough rage to bring him to that place of desperation, of rash action. That was until he had met his own flashpoint. MI6, it seemed, knew what it would take to get Alik to crack, the exact temperature, the exact circumstances, the exact person.
It had been a snowy November evening in London. The harsh cold of winter had fully embraced the streets of London, permeating into every nook and cranny of the city. It was the beginning of Advent and people had filled the streets to begin buying their Christmas presents. Alik and Yassen had been sent to the city to take out a target, the teenage son of a prominent business man, a warning from Scorpia to stay out of their business. Today would be the day that Alik executed his mission. He had been watching the boy for 3 weeks now, and had seen that the boy had a routine. Every Friday the boy went to the movies with his friends, no exceptions. It was a dangerous habit, and he would pay with his life for it.
Alik and Yassen had gone separately to the movie; a teen and a man watching a movie together, even if they did look like they could be related would draw too much attention. Alik had made sure to wait until the boy and his friends were seated before he went in and took the chair directly behind his target. The movie, he mournfully realized, was a remake of a classic film. It had viciously butchered the original and was filled with terrible acting. His target, it seemed, thought the movie was quite enjoyable. Reason enough for Alik to happily kill him.
During a particularly bad scene that seemed to have the audience captivated, Alik reached into the thick woolen coat that lay draped on the chair and carefully extracted the Grach he had been given. Adrenaline poured through his system as he pointed it at the back of the boy's head and fired, watching with a distinct pleasure as brain matter shot out of the neat hole and hit a girl in front of him. Screams immediately erupted in the theater and people rushed out of their seats, jamming in the doorway. Alik had been one of the first ones out and was now playing the part of a frightened teen as he sprinted through the lobby, past an alarmed security guard and into the cold night. As he walked down the road he slowed his pace until he melded seamlessly into the pulsing throng and quietly slipped into the alleyway where he and his father had agreed to meet. Minutes ticked by as he waited for the man but as the time dragged on Alik's adrenaline rush was mixed with worry about the fate of his mentor. Had he been held back by the security guards or, was something else going on. A bad feeling tugged at the edge of his mind and Alik knew better than to disobey the instinct.
When he arrived back at the theater he found the entrance taped off with police tape, a crowd of curious people gathering around it. He pushed his way to the front and stopped dead at the sight he saw before him, Yassen was sitting in handcuffs, four separate police men all had their guns trained on him as another talked on the phone with someone, no doubt they were contacting MI6. He had to get in, there had to be some way to save his mentor. He turned to one of the officers standing guard.
"Officer!" he called and one of the men turned to him "My brother was in there, his name is Marcus Browning" he supplied he knew the name would get him in. That was the boy he had just killed.
The man pulled out a radio and spoke a few mumbled words into it. Finally, the man lifted the tape. "Come on in kid."
Alik scurried under the tape and allowed the man to lead him into the building. The lobby area was filled with policemen and the occasional civilian witness.
The man who had been speaking on the radio approached them " Son, I need you to do me a favor." The man said and Alik nodded slowly. "Could you look at the body and tell us if it's your brother. If you can't that's okay." The man's voice was very soothing and Alik slowly nodded.
The officer put a hand on his shoulder and steered him down the hallway filled with stray police officers. They turned into the theater and he could smell the thick, coppery scent of blood. He walked down the sparsely lit row to where several officers were grouped around a chair.
He appeared to shy away at the smell and the man stopped him once more. "Are you sure you can do this, kid?"
Alik nodded and they continued their forward progress. As they neared the body the officers looked up "Family" the man explained and sympathy and pity sprung to their eyes.
Alik got his first glimpse of the body and mustered up a heart wrenching sob. The man immediately steered him away and Alik continued to pretend to cry as they made their way to the lobby. When they entered the room a bench was cleared off for him and a blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. He peered through his hands to see that Yassen was still there, watching him with the smallest trace of amusement and worry. A detective walked over to him, she was of slight build and a little shorter than him. She reached out a hand to introduce herself and he used that moment to attack, twisting the woman's arm behind her back and pointing his gun at her temple. The room stilled as the woman cried out and the guns moved to him.
"Now son," one of the men began "We know you've suffered a great loss" he began but Alik cut him off.
"Let him go," he ordered, voice steely.
"I said to let him go." At this he gestured at Yassen with the gun. "I won't hesitate to kill her. It would be the second person tonight." He said plainly.
The man gestured for those guarding Yassen to uncuff him. The man stood and gratefully rubbed his wrists, the men's guns were still trained warily at him. Alik locked eyes with the man and knew a distraction was needed. He turned his gun away from the woman's temple and shot at the glass to the front of the theater, just above the heads of the still gathered crowd. Screams pierced the air and the entire room turned to see what damage had been done. Yassen took the time to take his own hostage and frog marched the man towards Alik's position.
"We will be leaving now." Alik said plainly and the two marched down the hall with their hostages and once out of sight shoved them away and fired a few shots before sprinting towards the service exit in the rear of the theater.
They burst out of the doors and jumped down onto the docks hurriedly scrambling to make it into the thick crowd of shoppers. Footsteps could be heard behind them as they sprinted away.
Alik surveyed the crowd ahead and saw several figures lining up to block their way, they were wearing normal clothes, which could only mean MI6. He called a warning to his partner and veered out into the street to avoid them. He distantly heard shots ring out as they passed, more screaming echoed through the street and shoppers ran into stores to avoid the action on the street.
He dimly registered Yassen cursing as their cover vanished from sight. The agents sent after them had stood their ground and the assassins noted that they were completely surrounded. They moved to stand back to back and pulled out their guns as the circle of agents closed in on them. A truck pulled into the road on the other end and Alik watched as someone with a megaphone stood in the sunroof.
" Gregorovitch, give it up." The man called and Alik immediately recognized him as Alan Blunt, head of MI6.
"What do we do?" Alik queried to his partner, counting on the man's experience to help him now.
"There is an alleyway directly to the left of you, Alik. I will serve as a distraction for you to escape." The man whispered back and the boy tensed to protest. "Do not fight me on this, Alik. The odds are against us; you must return to Scorpia they will negotiate for my freedom."
"Yes, father," the boy replied obediently
"Now." The man whispered and he immediately began firing, ducking and rolling towards the weakest wall in the circle as Alik ducked and dodged his way towards the alley. He quickly dispatched the agents on the edge and sprinted down the narrow corridor he burst out onto the street and turned left walking calmly through the crowd for cover before quickly dashing down another alleyway and grabbing on the ladder of the fire escape. He watched his pursuers pass before scaling up to the top. As he reached the top he eased his head over the side and took in the sight of the sniper. The man was speaking into a small earpiece, no doubt receiving communication from below. Alik slowly moved his gun over the edge and fired. The man slumped forward and Alik dashed over, tossing the limp body aside before grabbing the rifle and aiming it at Blunt. He pulled the earpiece from the dead man as he heard the urgent voice asking if the man was there.
"I currently have Alan Blunt in my crosshairs are you willing to negotiate." He said coolly and surveyed the sudden buzz of action came from below as all eyes looked up into his post.
Around the circle men lay in pools of their own blood but he could not find the body of his father until he looked towards the caravan of vehicles surrounding Blunt's. His father was laying with his face pressed against the ground as three men brusquely cuffed him. A fourth was preparing a hypodermic needle.
He felt panic grip at his chest. No, they couldn't take Yassen. Not alive. They would torture him then kill him. He would never see his father again. He felt rage and desperation build up in his chest. This couldn't happen. No!
"Yes." A woman's voice spoke so calm in contrast to the rush of emotions that were washing over him, drowning him in their grip. "What do you want?"
"Let my father go." He said, he could hear his voice shaking either in fear or anger he could not tell.
"That is too high of a price." The woman replied simply and Alik felt a second wave of panic.
He couldn't let his father be tortured. He couldn't stand the thought of not seeing the man again and knowing that it was his fault. He had to do something, anything to free his father. "You can have me in his place. Just let him go." The desperation now leaked out, breaking through the hard mask of an assassin that his father had worked so hard to build.
"Why would we want you?" the woman queried "Who are you?"
"My name is Alik Gregorovitch I work for Scorpia but you may know me better as Alex Rider."
Well, what do you think? Did you love it? Hate it? Please review so I will know.
Also, if you liked it enough that you think it should be continued let me know. I may pick it up again after Veracity.