Self-Destruction Made Easy: An Alex Rider Fanfiction

The Months Before

Hey, y'all!! This is Future Panic! I have abandonded this fic! Keep reading if you're new, or don't. I just hate it when fanfic writers do this to me, aka abandon their fic and don't tell anyone, while listing it as completed.

if you normally skip Authors notes, here it is again, just in bold:  I. ABANDONED. THIS. FIC. keep reading if you want, i think it's worth your time. Panic!<3

Four months. That was what MI6 had deemed an appropriate amount of time for Alex to recover, both mentally and physically. He, for whatever reason, thought it was over. He had nothing left for them to use against him and just wasn't in the right state to successfully complete a mission. If they sent him back out into the field it would be a suicide mission, and they knew it. Yet, they still asked him to come back. He was 16 now, too old and ruined to fool anyone with his childlike demeanor. The next time they were to use him, would be as a real agent, not some kid.

As most self-aware creatures tend to be, Alex was miserable. Knowing there was no escaping his unlawful employment, he resigned himself to operating on auto-pilot. For a week, he went to school, barely got through his classes, and went home again. Everything was playing out almost like a script, for those 5 days. When the weekend hit, he sat at home and did nothing other than binge movies. When Monday came around, he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed. He ordered takeout and ate dinner on the couch.

This continued for the next month. He went to school maybe twice a week, did whatever was required and went home. Sometimes he would hang out with Tom, but most of the time he was alone in his empty house. His attendance obviously suffered, and so did his grades. But MI6 would keep him no matter how he did in school, so why not fail?

The last time Alex spoke to Tom was when his bubbly friend asked him to come over to play video games. Tom asked Alex how he was, and why he wasn't at school and tried to extract any information possible. Alex brushed him off and continued playing. Deep down, he was embarrassed about what he had become. Not that he had the motivation to change.

The whole night was a waste of Tom's time. He found no way to help Alex, and even if he had, he knew Alex wouldn't accept it. So the last hour of the last night they spent together was suffered through in total silence. And at the end of that hour, Alex slipped away. Tom didn't even remember saying goodbye.

Tom was angry. He was so angry. He had done everything he could to help Alex, and this was what he got. No information, no thank yous, nothing. So when bullies started targeting Alex in school, Tom did nothing. They lined up in the halls, metaphorically, of course, to give Alex a piece of what they thought he deserved. He wanted to join in if he was being honest. But he didn't. He just stifled a laugh when water was dumped on Alex's head, and he smiled to himself when Alex was called a drug dealer, and his bag was dumped out on the table. When Mr. Jackson left the classroom one day, someone slammed their textbook on the table. Alex had drifted off to sleep in the middle of class. When he snapped awake, flipped his desk, got down on the ground, and began looking around to try and find the source of the supposed gunshot, a pang of guilt shot through Tom. Meanwhile, the whole class erupted in laughter.

At the end of the month, Alex broke himself out of the depression he had become a prisoner to. He realized there was no getting away from MI6. Maybe if he embraced it, it would get better. Maybe. He wasn't sure how to do that though, other than go back early. Which he wasn't keen to do. So, he decided the next best course of action was to get a few jobs, save some money, and slowly become the adult he was pushed to be.

For the next month or so, he lived off of the mentality 'If I can make money from it, I'll do it.' Fast food jobs, being a waiter, pet sitting, recording a shitty movie, working at a movie theatre, babysitting, housesitting, librarian, he did it all. Most of them were one time jobs, but he made so much money from doing it that it wasn't a problem. He had completely given up on school at that point, and focused on making the most out of the 24 hours that were in a day. By the end of it, he had a considerable amount of cash. He spent what he got from MI6 on food and house bills. Everything else went into savings.

Once he had the money though, he wasn't sure what to do with it. He didn't exactly know what adults did with their money. So, he decided to play around with it a bit. He paid for everything in cash and made sure he wasn't being watched. First, he got tattoos to cover his scars. He did it because he hated looking at them. He couldn't stand it. They made him wanna peel off his skin. Before long, he had large tattoos covering his abdomen and arms, extending up to his neck. His legs only had one or two scars on them each, so he didn't see why he should spend even more money. There were a few scars that were too extensive to cover, like the one on his back, but he never really saw that one, so it didn't matter too much. He also got his ears pierced, across the top and on the sides. He already had one on each lobe, and honestly, he really liked the way piercings looked on other people, so why not indulge himself.

After much deliberation, he also dyed his hair pink. He remembered a conversation he and Tom had about the dumb colors they would dye their hair when they graduated, and he swore up and down he would dye his hair pink. So he did. He didn't really care about what MI6 would say, this was a personal choice.

When he was done, he learned very quickly no one saw him as 16 anymore. From a few interactions he'd had with adults, he came to the conclusion he looked like he was about 21 or 22. He reasoned he could get into bars, buy alcohol, and whatever else adults could, with a fake ID. Generally, he didn't do anything like that though, it felt like a waste of money. However, there was one temptation he succumbed to. He started buying the cigarettes his uncle had always told him his father smoked. It was a nostalgic and purely emotional decision, but he couldn't help himself.

When MI6 called him back at the end of his break, no one could believe it. He had changed so much, that Mrs. Jones was actually visibly surprised when he walked into her office. Of course, she was angry at him for his 'attention-attracting appearance', as she put it. However, he found it easy to ignore her. He ended up waiting for her to stop lecturing him. It took almost 15 minutes before she was calm enough to give him his orders. When she was finished, she made a call to Smithers while Alex was still in the room and asked him to prepare a last-minute disguise. Alex smiled to himself.

For the next year, he worked diligently, slowly losing himself to the constant flow of missions coming his way. He tried to work tirelessly and dedicated himself to being ruthless and swift. Occasionally, a flicker of empathy or compassion shone through, and Alex was too tired to stomp it out.

Eventually, Mrs. Jones pulled him from the field, claiming it was very urgent. Alex agreed.

I am editing this story so heavily rn, you don't even know. It's not great, I was a novice writer when I started this, which is why there is a multitude of plot holes, grammar mistakes, etc. I am fixing it, I promise. I am, however, leaving my novice AN below, because it's still true.

I am NOT romanticizing smoking, unhealthy behavior and coping mechanisms, trauma, or PTSD at all. This story is not about that AT ALL, as I know the effects of addiction, trauma, unhealthy behavior, and unhealthy coping mechanisms can have on a person. If you find any issues with my story that revolves around these topics and more please let me know, I do not want to be sending the message that romanticizing harmful things is ok, because it isn't. I'm always striving to learn more and become a better and more educated writer, so this story will most likely be edited and changed at many different intervals throughout its life span (I may be a prophet for including this).

I love all of my readers, and would love feedback from them, so don't hesitate to leave a comment :)

Ily all,
Panic!