I originally wrote a challenge on this, but decided to it myself. [is that even legal?]

Summary: The prime minister reads Alex Rider's file and made MI6 promise to tell the world about him if he ever dies on a mission. When Alex is killed by Scorpia, MI6 keeps their promise and soon the entire world knows about the teenage spy. Now he has to deal with school, the media and generally, life.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the plot. If you steal it, I will turn up in the middle of the night on your doorstep with a silenced pistol. Just joking! ...or am I?

Alan Blunt sighed and put down the phone. He had just been speaking with the prime minister, about probably the most difficult and problematic thing in his life.

Alex Rider.

Miss Jones was currently trying to sooth the sobbing and hysterical Ms. Starbright, after she had come storming into his office threatening to burn the entire 'bank' down if they didn't tell her where Alex was. Blunt was then given the wonderful task of telling her that Alex Rider was dead, killed on his last mission with Scorpia. Then, without thinking, he had told that fortunately the mission had been a success, to which much screaming and book-throwing ensued. How she managed to throw The Complete Works of William Shakespeare across the room, Blunt had no idea, but it had found its target and he now had the mother of all headaches. But he had a bigger problem.

How was he going to tell the world the boy's secret? He couldn't just phone all the media companies in the world and say, 'Hey, I've got a great story for you: we've been using a teenage boy to do our dirty work for the past year!' Hang on a second...

With a bit of rephrasing, that could work! He might have to threaten a few people with strange and sudden disappearances, but that could work! After all, he had footage of some of the boy's stunts (don't ask how he got it) to prove to the media that they had... persuaded the boy to work for them, and he could give them Rider's file (albeit a shortened version).

A small smile tugging at his lips, he picked up the phone.


A fair haired, brown eyed boy lifted his head slightly, and took in his surroundings. Ash and soot filled the air, but other than that there was nothing.

Suddenly, memories came flooding back. MI6 calling, infiltrating Scorpia, finding a nuclear bomb, shutting it down, grabbed suddenly from behind, tranquilised, waking up in a dungeon, torture, blinding pain, escaping, hacking into Scorpia's system, setting it to self-destruct, running, shockwave, falling... nothing.

Alex rolled over, and immediately regretted it. Pain racked his body, and for a moment he blacked out. When his vision cleared, he laboriously pushed himself up. He got to his feet, and was about to start moving towards the sounds of a city, when he tensed. Footsteps.

Instantly, he dropped to the ground and tilted his head, taking in the information that simple sound gave him. Four people. Male. One had a limp. They were obviously not trying to be careful.

"I don't see why we still have to be here, that agent is long gone," one said. Alex jolted as he recognised the voice.

"He might have survived; Jones said he had the luck of the devil."

"Blunt thinks he's dead, he just spilled his secret to the world." Alex almost keeled over at that.

"Can you believe it? A fifteen year old spy... Bet Fox isn't too chuffed at working for them now."

Alex had now successfully identified the voices. Sure, luck of the devil.

Sighing heavily, he rose once more.

"I'm here!" he called, startled by how hoarse his voice was.

The footsteps stopped, but Alex could see their forms through the smoke.

There were clicking sounds as the men switched off the safety on their guns.

"Identify yourself!" ordered one, now recognised as Wolf.

"Agent Rider," said Alex, striding forward, limping on his injured leg.

"You're alive?" asked Eagle.

Alex sighed again. "No, Eagle, I'm a freakin' zombie. What do you thing?"

"Wait- how do you know me? Unless-"

Eagle stepped towards Alex for a better look.

"No way!"

"What?" demanded Wolf.

"It is you!" exclaimed Eagle.

"Who?" Wolf didn't like being ignored. Taking initiative, he marched towards Alex, before stopping so suddenly it looked like he had just walked into a force field.

A few minutes silence, then, "Cub?"


"So... you're the agent?"

Alex moaned in exasperation; they had been over this a dozen times or more. The spy and K-unit were walking through a forest that Scorpia's base had been located in, trying to find the safe house. Their search wasn't going well, and Alex was being grilled with questions ranging from 'how did you get out before the bomb went off?' to 'What would you like to eat when we get to the safe house?'

By the time they were finally at the bunker, Alex was ready to decapitate Eagle; that man needed some Rescue Remedies. Or maybe a tranquiliser...

"Cub, let me check out your wounds, I need to see if any thing's infected," said Snake as they walked through the door.

"Sure, but water first."

After Lion (Fox's replacement) had handed Alex a flask of blessedly cool water, he allowed Snake to tend to his wounds, of which there were many.

"Jeez, Cub, what'd you do, get in a fight with a lawn mower?" Snake muttered. Then he froze.

"Cub..." he said softly, "How- when- who shot you?"

At once, all other members of K-unit were at his side.

"That's right above your heart!" said Wolf in a strangled voice.

"Well look who knows his body parts!" said Alex waspishly. He couldn't snapping; he had spent the last two weeks enduring torture, had just woken up after almost being blown up- again- , and now people were telling him things he already knew.

"When were you shot, Cub?" said Snake, more forcefully this time.

"I dunno, about a year ago?"

"Who shot you?"

"The people whose base I just blew up. What is this, twenty questions? Look, guys, as much as I appreciate your concern, I would really like some sleep."

Snake nodded, and the matter seemed to drop. "There's a bed in the back, if you want to rest."

Alex nodded. "Do have a radio or a satellite phone or something? I just want to tell my guardian I'm okay."

"Sorry, Cu- Alex. Our radio was destroyed by a couple of Scorpia agents. Amateurs, we... got rid of them before they could do any damage, but they smashed a few of our supplies, communication stuff mainly. Actually, we're the only people in the world who know you're still alive!"

Alex absorbed that information, and was about to head to the aforementioned bed, but something he had overheard from the conversation the SAS men were having before they had found him surfaced. He froze.


The medic was startled at how shaken the boy sounded. "What's wrong?"

"Something you said before... about Blunt telling the world my secret? You were joking, right?"

Snake bit his lip. "Well, it turns out the Prime Minister told MI6 that if you... died, Blunt had to tell everyone about how many times you saved the world. A gratitude kind of thing, you know?"

"No. I don't know." The teenager's voice was cold, flat. Emotionless.

"Listen Cub," came Wolf's grumpy voice, "What's done is done. Nothing you can do now. It was all over the news, the whole world knows. From what I've heard, you've been through a lot. Hell, I saw you snowboard down a mountain on an ironing board! You can, and will, deal with a little media attention."

Alex was stunned into silence. That was probably the nicest thing Wolf had ever said to him, albeit in a rather harsh manner. Slowly, Alex nodded, and turned back to Snake.

"When do we leave?"

Snake looked relieved at the change in subject. "Tomorrow at 0800. You better get some rest; it's almost eleven o'clock."

Alex walked to the back of the room and into the bed without complaint. He was physically and mentally exhausted.

Maybe this was a good thing. After all, in his first few months as a spy, he had wanted to tell people. Maybe this would stop his enemies from attacking him... as if. But this meant that MI6 couldn't use him anymore! Now that the whole world knew, that meant all the villains knew too, and would know what he looked like and would be suspicious of kids.

'Yes,' thought Alex, as he drifted into the comforting embrace of sleep, 'yes. I could finally be free.'

Well? Should I continue?