A/N: Okay. Now, this does not necessarily mean that I am back. I merely wrote this for school and decided to post it up. I may continue this I may not. I'd also like to note that I haven't read Scorpia in…two years? So other then the occasional glance to know what type of snipe he has, I haven't looked at the book. With that I will allow you to read onwards! That is, of course, if any of you actually read this to begin with.

Alex rider stepped out of the doors. It was about five o'clock in the afternoon and there was the usual flood of people returning home. He paused as his feet touched the steps and stared at the street in front of him.

People barely took notice of him as he stood unmoving in the oncoming rush, just enough awareness of their surroundings to dodge around him. It was a barrage of lights and noise, people in too much of a rush to get from one spot to another. Alex couldn't believe that they could be so oblivious to the fact that thousands of people had almost died barely two hours earlier.

He felt as if there was a thick wall of glass around him. On one side, life was as it should be, mind numbingly normal and routine. But inside it was a harsh, sick reality where he was used, abused, forgotten and hauled back in when it was convenient. He longed for the the other side but no matter how hard he tried to smash through the glass, he could not.

Mr. Blunt had asked...no told him, that he would always be in service, would always be forced into situations that he didn't want. The continually circling tornado of blackmail, lying and deceit had only increased after his most recent suicide mission.

Scorpia never forgot.

Scorpia never forgave.

Unbeknown to Alex, on the opposite side of the street in the 25th floor of the vacant building there was the slightest glint of a barrel. Barely visible to the outside world was a man, dressed as if he had just walked off the street. What was slightly unusual was the black self-loading Ruger .22 model K19/22-T cradled in his hands.

It was a low velocity weapon, less deadly than some might have chosen. But the gun had two huge advantages. It was light. And it was very compact. By merely removing a few screws he could disassemble the entire thing. He had easily been able to carry it from one side of London to the other in a discreet sports bag without drawing any attention to himself.

There was a slight clunk as he moved to get a better position, his target had appeared from within the building 5 minutes earlier but his employers had been strangely quiet so he hadn't decided to shoot until the set time.

He glanced down and checked his watch, only 1 minute left. He shifted again, his arms grated uncomfortably on the cold cement floor. The sniper knew that his target was barely 15. Did it matter to him that his target was a child? He had persuaded himself that it didn't. What mattered to him was the thought of how his employers would react it he failed. This boy must have majorly pissed off his employers for them to hire a sniper to kill him but it was not his place to pry.

He glanced down at his watch with a faint exasperated sigh. Only 30 seconds left, then he could finally move from the cement floor. Breaking into a perfect sniper point across from the MI6 headquarters was a rather hectic experience and had taken him several hours to bypass all the security.

He shifted once more into the perfect position before squaring his eyes against the Leupold 14x50mm Side Focus scope and setting his sights on the blond haired boy below. It was as if he was begging to be shot, as he stood there not moving in slowly decreasing crowd of people. He loved the feel of the gun in his hands, the snug fit, the perfect balance. The sniper was content. His fingers rested lightly on the the trigger, which would propel a .22 calibre bullet down the barrel, traveling at three hundred and thirty-one meters per second. It would be over in barely a blink of an eye. He steadied his breathing. Prepared for the kill. In that single moment, the sniper was God.

Ring

Ring

The insistent ringing of his cell phone interrupted his calm determination and shattered his concentration. He was heavily tempted to just shoot his phone, or at least he was until he saw who was calling. Scorpia.

He cautiously released his hold on the gun and reached for his phone, as if expecting it to blow in his hand. Although considering who they were it wasn't that unlikely.

There was no hello, no awkward pause as neither person spoke. It was clean, clear and straight to the point.

There's been a change of plans. You are no longer needed.

He snapped his head up towards the open window. Then he stopped. Something had hit him in the chest. It felt as if he had been punched. He didn't need to look, he knew what this was from. Even as his brain began to connect the dots, all the colour rapidly drained from his surroundings. Everything was blurring together into a seamless mash of blacks and grays. There was a steadily increasing buzzing in his ears that blocked out any other noises and left him deaf to the world. It was quick, moderately painless and incredibly quiet.

His body wouldn't be found for days.

Alex finally snapped out of his self-centered daze, he didn't want to think about anything spy related at all. He wanted to be with Jack. He wanted to forget about his homework and go out for a film and a blow-out dinner. Nothing healthy. He had said he would be home by six, but perhaps he would call and meet her at the multiplex on Fulham Road. It was Saturday. He deserved a night out.

The crowds had finally cleared and only the occasional person could be seen crossing the street. In the quiet, Alex started walking towards Fulham Road in the welcome silence, far from the horrid bank behind him.

He began to reach for his phone, his thoughts no longer focused on the horrors he had faced but on a lighter and non-spy filled future.

It could never happen.

It never would.

Suddenly, Alex was attacked on all sides.

One second the street was empty except for Alex, the next, large hands had grabbed him from behind. Alex was frightened. This wasn't a mission which could mean the end of the world, this was his normal life. Stuff like this wasn't supposed to happen.

Alex began to fight back with a vengeance. A tall man with dark brown hair grunted as the his palm slammed into his nose, rendering him either unconscious or dead, at that moment Alex really didn't care. Another man punched him harshly and Alex went limp in his arms.

The sudden change in weight made the men holding Alex relax their grip on him. He struck out before he had even reached the pavement. With a tight grip on one man's shin, Alex pulled, the man fell with a cry and toppled over one of his teammates as he fell. Alex smirked at the ease in which he had taken them out. Turning, Alex began to walk towards Fulham Road again, slightly more paranoid.

What Alex really should have remembered by now, was that in these teams there was always another guy, the driver. The low purr of an engine really should have alerted him but it wasn't until he heard the sliding of a door before Alex turned and looked. But by that point it was too late.

A large arm grabbed him and pulled him backwards into the van. He paused as his brain began to assess what was happening, he was roughly pushed into a wall. A thick blindfold was forced over his eyes, rendering him completely blind.

Thud

To Alex, it felt as if that noise was signaling the end of all hope. The door had shut, the engine was starting, he was screwed. Alex began to listen to his surroundings, he could, just barely, hear the breathing of several people close to him. As he was thinking, multiple hands grabbed his arms and pulled them behind his back. Alex then heard the unmistakable sound of a zip tie being tightened. He flung his arms forward and lent with all of his weight. They released him and Alex stumbled into what felt like the middle of the open space of the van.

Alex lashed out wildly but hit nothing but air. The tightly wrapped blind-fold was interfering with his sight as well as his hearing, causing him to panic. He felt the faintest change in the air to his left, his only warning before a large fist collided with his face. There was an audible thud as he fell backwards into the van wall. It was like being hit by a brick wall. Alex felt every bone in his body rattle. White light exploded behind his eyes. He slumped to the floor, seemingly unconscious.

A light was switched on in the van, magically making two, tall, lean men appear.

One moved forward, as if to check his pulse but stopped as the other man spoke.

"That was easy, I don't see why the heads were so worried."

"Well, Bill and Terry certainly didn't think so."

"They were only soldiers. It's not like they're one of us."

"Yeah, 'spose you're right."

While the two men were talking, Alex was mentally checking off a list of his injuries. Surprisingly, for once, he had a lack of major ones. Suddenly, the van tilted to the side as both men moved to his side.

One of them lent over him and checked his pulse. The mans putrid breath blew lightly over his face, moving his hair across his forehead. Alex resisted the urge to punch the man in the face and calmed his frantic heart. The mans hand paused at his throat.

His eyes flickered uncertainly under his eyelids. He couldn't hear them talking anymore, it was silent except for his rapid breaths.

"We know you're awake"

Alex felt like his blood had just chilled. The man's hand gripped around his throat and Iifted him off the ground.

A heavy blow smashed into his face.

His face was beginning to turn red.

His eyes dimmed and narrowed.

He could hear his heartbeat, loudly in his ears, slowing.

With one last burst of strength, he kicked forward and hit something. The man howled in pain and dropped him to the ground. Alex was on his hands and knees, gasping in the glorious air.

Shink

Almost the sound of a sword being unsheathed but not quite. Alex glanced upwards with frightened eyes. The knife was a shining sliver, with the faintest stains of blood on the blade.

The knife sliced through his skin. There was the briefest pause before the blood began to drip down his leg. It was thick and sticky. Slowly rolling down his leg in large drops, the trails leaving behind a dark purple. Alex felt nauseous but managed to push the pain aside and focused on the pumping adrenaline.

His foot connected with the mans hand, knocking the knife out. Alex was too tired to even try and retrieve it, merely kicking it away from the fight. He pushed into the mans space and elbowed his solar plexus. The man dropped to the ground in a single moment.

Alex knew that the driver was still there but at that moment he was too tired. He just wanted to curl up on the floor and sleep. He shook his head, small droplets of blood flying off from one of the many hits that he had endured. The van made a sudden swerve making Alex stumble into the van wall. As he began to slide down, his hand caught on the handle. The faintest sense of hope began to appear in his mind. He reached forward, all thoughts focused on that single thing. He didn't feel the van come to a stop. He didn't hear the heavy thuds of footsteps.

His faint hope disappeared once more. A thick cloth was shoved over his mouth and a sweet smell entered his throat. Before it could even click in his mind, he collapsed to the ground unconscious.

A menacing darkness descended on him.

A/N: And without cliffhanger I finish, depending on whether I get any inspiration or if I get enough encouragement. (hint, hint) as for my other stories…well I have written some bits and pieces but nothing over 100 words yet. So once I do I will upload them and take these stories off hiatus. Note: I haven't got this betaed at all so if there's glitches or spelling mistakes then I'm sorry.

And with farewell!