(Alex Rider Fanfiction) Floating in the Dark

Three

Alex stood in the shooting range, a heavy pistol held in both, outstretched hands. The target was a simple bulls-eye, several yards away. Every shot he took ploughed through the center.

 He hated the gun. Hated what it was, what it was capable of, what it had done - yet he didn’t let it distract him. Assassins weren’t distracted. And he was now an assassin.

 Right?

 oOo

Jack Starbright glared at the two MI6 agents standing in her doorway.  “What do you want?”

 “Mr. Blunt wishes to see you, Miss Starbright,” one of them crisply stated. “We are here to escort you to his office.”

 A flicker of unease ran throughout her, and her face took on a worried expression. “Is this about Alex?” she asked. “Because he hasn’t been home for over a week. I don’t know anything - “

 “Come with us, Miss Starbright,” One of the agents repeated, his tone stern and commanding. As he spoke, he brushed the edge of his black suit jacket aside, giving her a glimpse of something metallic.

 A gun.

 If she hadn’t been so worried, she would’ve scoffed. Trying to scare her, huh? Jack let out a weary sigh. “Fine, fine, I’m coming. Just let me grab my purse.”

 oOo

Alex lowered his weapon, and waited quietly as the target was brought in. He saw that the center had been completely shredded, but he felt no pride in his work.  It was just another thing. A thing that assassins do. Shoot holes in their targets.

 He was good at that, wasn’t he? The perfect little hole in the middle of her forehead, so perfect that only a little blood came out.....but the back of her head. . . that wasn’t so perfect. So much blood. . .

 “Hey!” The cheerful voice cut into his dark thoughts, and Alex turned to see another of Scorpia’s students. Tall and stick thin, Raymond was an overenthusiastic young man who excelled at sniping. As such, he took great interest in all types of guns, and was a expert when it came them.

 Alex didn’t move as Raymond leaned over, and peered at the target. The skinny man let out a low whistle. “Nice, Alex - very nice! You’re quite good - but not as good as me, of course,” Raymond grinned in a friendly way. He clapped Alex on the shoulder, and called out to the shooting range instructor, Gordon Ross.  “Hey Ross! I think the kid needs something harder!”

 The technical specialist came over, and peered at Alex’s handiwork. “Not bad, not bad,” he muttered to himself. Then he grinned slyly. “All right, Mr. Rider. Let’s see how well you do with  these targets....”

 oOo 

What was this? What was going on?

 Jack didn’t like the look of things. First of all, everyone was so grim-faced. You’d think somebody had died, or something. 

 Now she sat in front of Alan Blunt’s desk. The man quietly observed her, watching her with that unsettling, flat gaze. She stared back. As he watched her, he opened a drawer in his desk, and reached inside. Pulling out what looked like a piece of candy, he carefully unwrapped it, and placed it gingerly in his mouth. Making a distasteful expression, he awkwardly sucked on it, like he was unused to indulging in such sweets.

 Catching her stare, he spoke up. “Want one?”

 “Huh?”

 “A peppermint. Would you like one?”

 Jack blinked, then slowly shook her head. “What’s this all about?” she demanded, getting irritated at this whole mess.

Blunt  suddenly looked tired. “Mrs. Jones is dead,” he stated quietly, getting right to business.

 “D-dead? What?” She was surprised by that sudden statement, but was still annoyed. She had only seen the woman once or twice, and didn’t like her one bit. In fact, she didn’t like the whole MI6 thing at all. They had used Alex like a weapon, like the perfect secret little spy that he definitely wasn’t. Alex was just a child, for crying out loud. He was too young to fight for his country!  “I guess I feel sorry for you, but really, what does this have to do -“

 “Alex killed her,” Blunt cut in bluntly.

 Jack gaped, not sure that she had heard right. “Excuse me?” she gasped. “Did you just say - ?!”

 The head of MI6 didn’t answer. Instead, he folded thin hands on top of his desk, and quietly watched her.

 oOo

It was the figure of a human person. Before, he hadn’t been able to hit it in all the fatal places. But now, he didn’t hesitate, and fired round after round. Each bullet went between the eyes, or straight in the heart. Even if the target was a man, women, or child. It didn’t matter.

 A target was a target.

 oOo 

If these were real people....would I still kill them?

 ....

 I don’t know.

 Before. . .I know. . .there would be no way that I would have. Human life was precious. But now, I don’t know anymore.

 These targets. . .they mean nothing. My job is to shoot them full of holes. So I do.

 But every time I send a bullet into their paper heads, I see her. Each time, I see that perfect little hole, those watery wide eyes, staring right into my soul -

 No! Don’t go there!

 I am an assassin.

 My job is to kill.

 . . . . . . . .

 . . . . .

 What have I done?

 oOo 

“We need your help, Miss Starbright,” he said calmly. The fact that she was frozen in place, a horrid expression of shock and horror painted all over her face - it meant nothing to him. He went on, as if she was completely calm and collected, and understood his every word.

 “You are the only one he will listen to, now. We need you to get a hold of him, and talk to him. Bring him in. Or at least get him to come out, so we can reach him.”

 She stared at nothing, her face an ashen white.

 “Tell him you need to see him. He should come out for that, if he still cares about you. I’m sure he does. Then we can grab him, and try to figure out what that boy is thinking...” Alan Blunt trailed off, as he started to wonder.

 Just what was that boy thinking, indeed? What was it that could bring a child to kill? Surely it couldn’t be just the fact that he thought Mrs. Jones had killed his father. Which she hadn’t. But still. Alex hadn’t even known his father...

 A puzzle. It was an intriguing puzzle.

 “I can’t believe this,” Jack whispered, sagging in her chair. “Alex. . .”

 Did you really murder someone?