The Underdog: Alex Rider FanFic

Chapter 2

Alex's (POV)

Ben opens a door, walking inside.

A musty smell immediately assaults my nose, eyes already examining the room as I follow him.

It basically looks like an old boxing gym.

An older style boxing ring sits over near the back of the large room. Boxing gloves dangle from hooks on the walls. Weights of all sizes and shapes, lined up neatly on shelves along the wall. All kinds of different exercise equipment, scattered-yet noticeably organized-around.

Like I said.

A gym.

As I move onto the left side of the room, my eyes land on two people.

The first is probably five foot five, noticeably muscular, early twenties, Hispanic features.

Then, I move onto the other person.

My feet pause mid movement, eyes widening as they land on him.

He's leaning against the wall, a cigar sticking out between his lips. He's somewhere in his fifties, easily six foot five, his bulky frame making him look like a rhino on steroids.

But that's not what leaves me feeling like all the air just got sucked out of the room.

No, it's the fact he looks almost exactly like....Don.

His blond hair is cut military style, sharp blue eyes - eyes identical to Don's, stare over at me. Examining.

His facial features so much like Don's, I almost get the feeling it is him.

Only this guy, isn't him.

He has an ugly burn that mars his left cheek bone, running down his neck into his shirt.

That must be the "accident" Ben was talking about.

He's wearing tan pants that tuck into black boots, a tight fitting black shirt stretched across his broad shoulders.

And attached to his hip.

Is a two foot long leather riding crop.

My eyes stay glued to his hip, mouth suddenly sandpaper dry.

Memories of Razim and his henchmen beating me senseless with a whip, flash through my mind with sickening detail.

I'm thrown from my deep thoughts as Ben speaks up. "It's uncanny, isn't it?" He's stopped now, leaning back towards me as he waits for me to answer, hands crossed behind his back.

I keep my eyes glued on Don's doppelgänger who's thirty feet across the room, the other person standing obediently beside him, head bent down.

Ben sighs, obviously upset I didn't answer him. "How alike he is to Don." He answers his own question, glancing over at who I can only assume is Frances.

"It gets me every time." He muses to himself.

I hardly acknowledge him, my mind still caught up with the fact that this man has a whip.

And he probably doesn't have it just for looks.

I feel sweat drip down my forehead, my hands getting clammy, shaking becoming more prominent, throat getting an uncomfortable tightness to it, head pounding with a headache.

No, this can't be happening again.

"He's ruthless and won't quit till you either die, or become so physically impaired you can't move a single muscle in your body."