Disclaimer: Stop... I don't own Alex Rider...

Classified – FBI Edition

"I do believe quite strongly in evil."

Anthony Horowitz

Alex sighed, collapsing on the bed of the hotel, exhausted. He'd spent the last ten hours scoping out a child trafficking ring. He was working under Joe Byrne, the head of CIA, himself. Not for the first time, Alex mentally cursed Mrs. Jones and any other agency he had ever come across.

A pounding pain on the side of his face and his ribs reminded Alex of exactly why he had to come back to the hotel. He stood painfully, limping over to his packed first-aid kit and then limping into the bathroom.

It took him a few minutes to patch himself up, but once he was done, he crept back into the bed and passed out.

Alex woke to the gentle patter of feet outside his door. Three sharp knocks sent him scrambling for his gun. He stood in a dark corner, his arm raised, grip around his gun, loose.

"FBI! Open up!" Someone yelled on the other side of the door. The voice was distinctly male. Commanding. Alex didn't trust it.

The door splintered open. Alex had his gun pointed at the first man's head before he could even register him standing in the corner. A moment later, SWAT agents took their positions on either side of Alex, slightly in front of him.

"FBI! Drop your weapon!" The FBI agent called, his gun firmly trained on the spy.

Alex was relentless, "Show me your credentials."

The FBI agent looked incredulous. What did this teenager think he was? Some sort of mini James Bond? Nevertheless, the boy had a gun, and that made him lethal. The FBI agent reached slowly into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his ID, flicking it open and holding it out for the boy.

Alex crept closer, studying the ID from a yard away from the agent. When he was satisfied, he nodded and stuffed the gun into his waistband.

The FBI agent stiffened, "Give me the gun."

Alex sent him a withering glance, "How stupid do you think I am?"

The FBI agent opened his mouth, but Alex waved him off, striding forward. He was nearly to the door when the man squawked, "Where do you think you're going?"

Alex sent the man another look, "To your car. Aren't you arresting me?"

The FBI agent could only gawk at the teenager.

F*B*I

The FBI agent identified himself as Agent Smith half an hour later, when he shoved Alex into the interrogation room.

Alex smirked at the mirror across from him, probably staring directly at one of the agents. They had stripped him of any weapons he had on him, which was his gun.

In the viewing room, Agent Smith watched the boy. He hadn't gotten a name from the blonde boy. In fact, the boy had only spoken a few phrases in a faux British accent. He only knew this because he had visited Britain once in his life.

"What do you think?" Agent Green, a young woman, around twenty, asked Smith.

Smith's gaze intensified to a glare, "He's a cocky little thing." He decided.

Green's eyes wandered back to the boy, "Why did he have a gun? Where are his parents?"

Smith could feel the frustration rolling off of her in waves. He nodded, agreeing with the younger agent. He turned his glare back onto the boy.

The boy was most likely attractive to girls. He had ruffled blonde hair, dark eyes, and a handsome face. He seemed to give off an aura of danger. The boy was muscular, but not too muscular. It was clear he worked out regularly, but not to a point where he was just a block of meat.

"Perhaps we should try the 'what do you think your parents would think' angle." Green suggested, crossing her arms across her chest.

Smith nodded, "Agreed. Let's go."

The two headed to the door and entered the room.

"Hello." Green greeted the boy with a smile as she sat down. Smith remained standing, hoping to intimidate him. The teen just seemed uninterested.

Smith scowled at the boy, "Listen up, boy. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand?"

The boy smirked again, speaking with his faux (Smith was infuriated) British accent, "Yes, sir."

"What's your name?" Green asked kindly. Smith thought maybe she was trying too hard.

The boy was silent for a moment, but he eventually nodded and said, "Alex. Alex Moore."

"What were you doing on March 4th, at 2:30 AM?" Smith growled, fixing Alex with his best death glare.

The boy didn't even bat an eye, "Sleeping? I don't enjoy staying up late, you know."

Smith produced a pen and a piece of paper to write on, "Do you have an alibi?"

"Did you see anyone else living with me?" Alex asked rhetorically.

Smith floundered for an answer before settling with a simple 'no' on his paper, "Where are your parents?"

If he had hoped for a startled reaction, he was disappointed. Alex just yawned and said, "Not here."

"What would they think if they found out?"

"Found out what?"

Smith was frustrated now. He ground his back teeth together, "That you murdered someone."

Alex raised his eyebrows, "It's not called 'murdering' when you have permission from the government."

Smith's interest peaked, "What?"

The blonde haired boy rolled his eyes, still with that terrible accent, "I'd like my phone call now."

Both Green and Smith stared at the boy. Eventually, Green nodded and stood, following Smith out of the room. They stood in the viewing room, both wearing discouraged looks on their faces. Another agent brought Alex the phone, plugging it in and leaving.

Smith watched as Alex stared at the phone for a moment, seeming to think hard about something. The boy picked up the phone and dialed in a number.

He waited for a moment before talking in an American accent, "Joe? Yeah, it's me."

"I knew it!" Smith exclaimed viciously, "He's American, trying to throw us off."

Green hushed him.

"No…" Alex suddenly looked very embarrassed, "The FBI picked me up."

A pause.

"Well, I was sort of hoping you could help me out here."

Smith raised his eyebrows, leaning forward, closer to the glass.

Alex grinned, "Just come in, waving your badge around."

Smith and Green exchanged a worried look. Was this 'Joe' an agent? An FBI agent, perhaps?

"Yeah," Alex responded to whatever Joe had said, "I killed him. But it was by accident. If he hadn't decided to keep a bunch of scorpions as pets, he would still be alive."

Beside him, Green paled.

"Yeah. They're listening." Alex didn't look up at the mirror, "And I can say whatever I want to. It's not like they can actually put me in prison."

"We'll see about that." Smith muttered under his breath.

Alex grinned, "Yeah, see you later. Bye."

He hung up and Smith took the opportunity to stalk back into the room. He snatched the phone and sat, Green coming in after him.

"I thought I made it clear that I didn't want to talk to you." Alex sounded bored. Smith noted triumphantly that he wasn't speaking in his pseudo-British accent.

Smith glared at the boy, "Tell me what you know!"

"I know that you're easily annoyed." Alex smirked.

"About the murder." Smith clarified, balling his hands into fists and staring determinedly at the younger male.

Alex regarded him coolly, "I'm sure everything will clear up once Joe – that's a friend by the way – gets here."

Smith's upper lip wobbled furiously, "But you confessed! You can't leave when you just confessed."

Alex looked annoyed now, "Just sit and wait."

The commanding tone in his voice made Smith even angrier, but he sat down anyway, fixing an evil eye on the boy. He hated anyone or anything that thought they could commit a crime and get away with it. Smith had joined the FBI to stop these people, but on days like these, he just wanted to take out the suspect himself.

A FBI agent opened the door, looking mildly worried, "Sir? CIA is here."

Smith's mouth fell open, "CIA? What the hell is going on?"

He swiveled back to the boy. This was all his fault.

"Should I send him in?" The FBI agent asked Smith, hands twitching a little. Smith figured it was just his nerves.

He nodded, "Fine. Let's see what he wants."

The agent nodded and beckoned to someone outside of the door. A moment later, a man strolled into the room. He was about sixty, with perfectly combed white hair on his head. The man was wearing a clean, black suit and carried a briefcase.

"Ah," the man smiled, "you must be Agent Smith and Agent Green. Pleased to meet you."

Smith shook the man's outstretched hand, confused, "Who are you?"

The man smiled again and reached into the pocket of his suit. He drew something out and flipped it open to show Smith, "Joe Byrne, deputy director of CIA."

Smith just stared.

Byrne turned to Alex, tutting disapprovingly, "Causing trouble with the FBI now?"

Smith was surprised when Alex grinned. He looked so much younger, "They're the ones who tried to find me."

Byrne chuckled and turned to the two agents, "Never try to find Alex," he advised, "He brings too much trouble along with him."

"Hey!" Alex protested, but he was smiling.

The head of CIA pulled up a chair and sat next to Alex. He gestured for the others to sit too. When they did, he set his briefcase on the table and opened it up, withdrew a couple papers and closed it again. He placed the briefcase by his feet and slid the papers over the table to the agents, "This is the Espionage Act. Do you know what that is?"

Smith looked mildly insulted that he would ask that.

Green answered for them, "Yes, sir."

Byrne nodded, "Good. You'll have to sign the papers before we can tell you anything." He fished a pen out of his pocket and placed it in front of the agents.

Alex smirked at the stunned expressions on their faces. Smith wanted to wipe it off with his fist.

Green took the pen first, signing her name at the bottom of the paper and handing the pen to Smith. He contemplated for a moment before doing so too. He gave the form and the pen back to Byrne, who placed it back in his briefcase.

"Now, I'm sure as you both can tell, Alex contains a lot of sensitive information." Byrne started off, "He was working on a case for me."

"What?" Smith couldn't believe what he was hearing, "You mean that you employed a boy?"

Byrne chuckled, "No, I didn't employ him. He's simply…"

Alex chirped in helpfully here, "On loan."

The head of CIA nodded, agreeing with the younger boy, "Yes, his employers are…"

Alex broke in again, "Can I do the honors?"

Byrne grinned at the boy's enthusiasm, "Of course, Alex."

Alex smirked, looking directly into Smith's eyes, "The name is Rider. Alex Rider. MI6."

Smith noted the accent in his voice. This time it was completely natural, compared to his first accent, which had been horribly false. He wondered if the boy had known that.

"A bit pretentious, don't you think?" Byrne said after a long silence.

Alex shrugged, leaning back, "They asked for it."

Smith was gaping openly now. Green wore a similar expression.

Blonde hair flopped over brown eyes as Alex stood and stretched, "I'm going now – I've got a plane to catch." He waved cheerily at the two agents and darted past them, winking mischievously at the head of CIA.

It took Byrne a second to process what had happened. He stood too. Smith watched, confused.

"Alex! Get back here! I need to debrief you!"

A/N: Good or bad? I had fun writing this... And unlike any other one-shots, I actually spent two days on this. YAY!

Please review! I'd love to hear what you think.

(UPDATE: MY LIFE HAS BEEN A LIE. I would like to thank xxxarxxx for telling me that Byrne is not the head of CIA. He is, in fact, deputy director! Right now, I am shell-shocked. Wait, no. I just feel like my eyes have betrayed me... From when I read Skeleton Key to Scorpia Rising, I thought he was the head... Well, I did a bit of research and a lot of sites are contradicting each other. I'm not really sure what's happening. But anyway, thanks to xxxarxxx!

-Alice xxx