Becoming Agent Rider

Spitting Image

The city slowly woke from its slumber. As the MI6 driver sent to receive him from Heathrow drove him to his house, Alex absentmindedly observed their surroundings. There were people sleepily walking their dogs, buying coffee or tea to help them get through the first day of the week, or hurrying to get to work. The traffic slowly became more congested. Still, they arrived at his house in half an hour, giving him plenty of time to get ready for school.

Dropping off his luggage in the office, he took a shower and had breakfast while sorting through his homework from the past week to stuff into his school bag. Something nagged at the back of his jetlagged mind just as he was about to go out the door. Oh yeah, he had instructions from two of the world's strictest mentors to get familiar with carrying weapons. Rubbing a hand over his face, he trudged back to his office and armed himself. A fully loaded gun holstered at the small of his back and a pair of combat knives strapped to his calves later, he was ready to leave.

As leisurely as he had spent his morning, even slowly riding his bike - normal Raleigh Pioneer 160, not Smithers' gift - through the busy traffic amidst the light pattering of dreary rain, Alex still arrived at Brooklands with thirty minutes to spare before classes started. He locked his bike up and strolled into the front office to drop off his completed work experience forms. But after that, he just wandered the corridors.

This early, there were few people around. But even these few people gave him a clue that something wasn't right. It was a similar, but somehow worse, atmosphere to the last time he had come back after missing an afternoon of school. So, Dirk O'Connor and Kyle Ellis had chosen to ignore his warning. His jaw clenched at the thought of those bullies. They were done. He'd make sure of it. Pivoting on his heel, Alex went straight to Tom's locker so he could pump his friend for information as soon as the other teen arrived. There wouldn't be much time for it, seeing as his friend was usually running late.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked warily, carefully approaching his best friend, just two minutes before classes began. Amongst the crowd of students, there was a wide, empty space around the blonde teen. Like an invisible bubble was there. "You've got that look that says someone is getting beaten up."

"O'Connor and Ellis," Alex growled, pushing off from where he was leaning on his friend's locker. "Tell me everything that happened while I was gone. Now."

"Oh boy," Tom said, finally understanding his friend's mood.

As they headed to class, Tom recounted last week's events and watched his friend get more rigid with each word. By the time he finished up in a hurried whisper when the teacher walked in, Alex only nodded curtly and signaled for their conversation to continue later. There was so much controlled fury in the air that Tom had no doubt that this was not schoolboy Alex, but MI6 Alex. So, for the rest of the morning, Tom didn't bother paying attention to his classes. It wasn't like he could keep up anyways. He didn't do enough studying for that. Instead, he watched his friend listening to lectures, studiously taking notes, and handing in last week's homework to each teacher. A perfect picture of a good student... Except for the tightly coiled anger rolling off his friend in waves. Judging by everyone else's continued distance, they could feel it too. It didn't keep them from repeatedly sneaking glances at his friend though. So, he kept watching Alex, just in case he needed to keep his friend in check. He hoped he could. He hoped he didn't need to. He wasn't sure exactly what his best friend was capable of anymore.