Prologue

The Sunday begun with the death of a pokerplayer.

At 00.02 a woman called the police station, reporting what she thought had been the sound of a gunshot. "Just a minute ago," she told the answering receptionist.

Making the time of death 00.01 on Sunday, and the case shifted from the Saturday night team to the Sunday team, led by Regus Flinck, who you may say, didn't like the fact that this 'pokerfanatic' decided to get killed during his shift.

So here he was, at the crime scene, sipping his pitch-black coffee, trying to see something in the darkened room. Regus coffee was strong, as strong as it gets, and maybe the one and only reason coffee made it to the list of soft-drugs at all.

Still he wasn't quit awake. He was, let say, a bit groggy, and slightly gump, not to mention he's somewhat too old for his work. But that was only to be anticipated, who else would happily take the midnight-Sunday-shift anyway?

The sound of a radio that cracked into live broke the silence in the room. "Flinck, what have you got for me?" the voice of Regus Flick boss deadpannened.

"Come in operator, I've got one body, time of death 00.01, shot in the head. Perfect bull's-eye. Lights broken, and the window in the kitchen slammed. Victim's sitting in the living room, cards spread out,and the television is missing. Looks like a regular burglary to me."

"Christ, and it's only one in the morning. Right, leave it to the morning team, I will sent a forensic team and we'll determine the victims identity later."

"Thank you sir, I will come back to the office right away," Regus answered, but didn't get a reply. Not that he was expecting any; it was only one in the morning.

Slowly he walked out of the small flatroom, his teammate waited in the car one floor beneath him, the lady which had called came out of her door, asking him if everything was alright.

Regus put on his best smile, "everything is fine madam, perfectly fine."

Now maybe Regus Flinck had been a bit too tired. His coffee hadn't kicked in yet, he had only been awake for a hour and half, or maybe he was getting tired of being too old for his job. But whatever it was, that night one important question hadn't crossed his mind.

Which pokerplayer played a game alone?

Alex was running.

The road he had taken was long and spread out in front of him, seeming never to end. But that was okay; Alex needed to get away as far as possible, so no end, seemed like a good option to him.

Out the corner of his eye he spotted some dark figures, sitting at the side of the road. Why was it that all the suspicious looking persons came out at night, gathering around at street corners. Were they there too in broad daylight, and you just didn't spot them?

Anyways, it didn't matter right now; any dark figure was better then what Alex was running from. Gods, he would take any drug dealer over the people he had come across only moments ago.

He had been on a mission, a small one they had told him. Nothing hard, just a cover for another agent.

And easy it had been, he had gotten a free sleep residence, free food, he had had the time of his life lazing around, pretending to be the kid of a middle-aged mathteacher, just moved into town, that actually was agent Rodens.

Rodens had not been pleased with Alex stay, but hey, it's not like Alex had had a choice in the matter. Any objections he had to take up to Blunt, Alex had wished him the best of luck.

Now the agent was dead. Shot bull's-eye during a 'friendly' game of poker with one of his contacts. "Friendly my **", Alex had decided when hearing the shot.

He had waited in the kitchen, out of view like ordered. That may be the only reason he wasn't dead yet, realizing his partner was 'in a better place' now, Alex had made a dive trough the kitchen window. It had only been one floor up.

But it had been worth it, he rather had a sprained ankle then a nice chat with the people he had taken a glance at while making a jump for it.

Black tunics, black guns, one silver symbol on their chest. Scorpia.

So Alex was running. As fast as possible. Wishing the road would never stop until the other side of the world. Or maybe, when his head was clear again, he would take a left to a certain Bank.

Well is it something? Let me know, its my first fiction.
Peachless
Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider, this is a fan fiction based on the Alex Rider series by Anthony Horowitz