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“Your government needs prove”, Mr. Hyde leans close enough to Alex’ face that he can smell the fish he had for breakfast this morning.
Alex has been in this place for the past week. He’s been watched by a lot of different guards but his least favourite have to be the duo he nicknamed Mr. Hyde and Dr. Jekyll, who are not only his most frequent visitors but also his designated minders.
Mr. Hyde is unhinged with a huge grin, always taking pleasure in taunting and hurting Alex, always going overboard. Dr. Jekyll on the other hand is clinical and efficient in his questioning. That just makes it all the more uncomfortable for Alex. He can’t help but see Dr. Grief in every precisely made cut.
Alex was on another mission for MI6, technically he still is, but he hasn’t been able to escape yet and considering his physical state, it’s getting more impossible every hour and every new injury that goes by.
He can’t help but think everything was easier when he was still a kid. Or at least visibly younger and seemingly more innocent. But shortly after turning sixteen, Alex had a growth spurt and now, only a few months from turning seventeen, Alex could pass for an adult already. It’s also pretty impractical that his reputation proceeds him time and time again.
He doesn’t know why MI6 continues to use him when it’s so obvious that his advantage is now long gone but he is resigned to it.
The newest organisation that he was supposed to just ‘observe and report’ is deeply entrenched in orchestrating a world-wide financial crisis through some inside men in high places and a ton of hacking.
Alex doesn’t really understand the mechanics of it but he managed to infiltrate their base and discover their conveniently stored plans on a well-guarded computer. He tried sending all information to MI6 but of course the computer wasn’t connected to the outside world.
Through some convoluted circumstances including a gullible technician, a very helpful raccoon and a chocolate Bombon (curtesy of Smithers) he hopefully managed to send all the plans.
Of course, he managed to be caught during his strategical retreat and now they’re holding him in a window-less room whose floor was already stained with blood before Alex got thrown in it.
Now, after several beatings, way too much waterboarding that still leaves him coughing occasionally and a few cuts along his back and torso both from a whip and a scalpel, the room doesn’t look any more inviting.
After his first and only escape attempt, Alex can’t even walk across the small space what with his destroyed ancle. The only thing he’s giving them is that they make sure he won’t die. He gets enough food and water to not starve; they clean his wounds and make sure not to go too far during the questioning.
After all, they need answers on how much he knows and how much his government knows. And considering he’s the only one in their reach, he’s the only one they can ask.
Alex is tangentially aware that his captors tried to contact MI6 but honestly, he already knew they wouldn’t get an answer. MI6 has never cared for rescuing Alex, let alone potentially paying ransom.
He isn’t even sure if the request for prove of life actually stems from them or of his captors got to that conclusion on their own due to a lack of response. Either way, Alex knows he’s fucked.
He has some experience with pain and with people threatening painful consequences if he doesn’t do what they want but outright torture is something new. He knows some waterboarding from Kairo and all the other injuries and fears he accumulated during his various missions but this is still different from what he imagined could happen to him.
And to be perfectly honest, he doesn’t know how long he’ll manage to hang on.
He knows that after he tells them everything they want to know, they’ll have no use for him, especially when MI6 doesn’t respond to their inquiries. They’ll just kill him. And at this point, Alex almost wants them to.
He wouldn’t be getting hurt every day anymore. He’d finally be at peace. And even long term he wouldn’t have to go on any more missions. His life is already ruined anyways. He will never be able to lead a normal life, will never be able to escape his enemies, his nightmares, his scars.
He almost just wants to answer their questions but one of his greatest character flaws has always been his stubbornness.
He has to hold on, if only to spite this stupid duo of guards.
Dr. Jekyll installs a camera in front of Alex while Mr. Hyde manhandles him into position on the uncomfortable steel chair.
Once everything is in position, Dr. Jekyll gives a signal and turns on the camera.
Mr. Hyde directs his attention with a huge, unsettling grin towards the camera and makes an introduction that wouldn’t be out of place in a game show.
“Welcome, welcome! You seemed a little uninterested with just our letter and so we present you”, at this he gestures to Alex, sitting prone on the chair, “your little spy Alex Rider! Say hello, Alex!”
Alex just glares at the blinking light of the camera, doing his damnest to appear unaffected and unafraid and uninjured.
“Well, now, Alex, don’t leave me hanging”, Mr. Hyde sounds disappointed and Alex knows what comes next when he doesn’t play along with that psycho.
He still hesitates to say anything until Mr. Hyde turns his grin on Alex and he notices how the corners of his mouth become fixed and his eyes get a manic spark.
“’sup”, Alex nods into the camera.
Mr. Hyde pets his head and Alex resists the instinct to cringe away. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
“Now, we all know why we are here and it’s honestly so disappointing that we haven’t heard back from you yet. I thought you would want your precious little spy back but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Especially because his existence alone is a secret so big, it could bring down your government alone”, Mr. Hyde shakes his head like a disappointed school teacher.
“See, we wanted to negotiate first before we reveal your dirty little secret to the world but you didn’t react. It’s a shame, really, that you’ve forced our hand like this.”
He lays his hand on Alex’ shoulder and slides it down his exposed torso, right over his old bullet scar and all the other fresh lacerations. The touch makes Alex want to crawl out of his skin but he suppresses the shudder and continues glaring into the camera.
“But, of course, we understand that you are hesitant to believe us that we actually have him in our possession”, at that he trails a flowery pattern across Alex’s chest and Alex can’t stop himself from grimacing.
“So, aside from this little livestream, we’ll send you a present! Something to prove it’s really your Alex and not just some imposter”, he takes Alex’ hand into his own and the gesture is so wrongly intimate that Alex wants to barf, “We have prepared something extra special for you.”
He pulls out a grotesque looking contraption and pins Alex’ right hand to the armrest of the chair, singling out his middle finger.
“Now, prepare to be amazed”, he says in the direction of the camera.
Alex barely supresses a scream as his nail is ripped straight from the nailbed. He bites his cheek and the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth. It makes him feel nauseous.
Mr. Hyde leans closely into his face and the smell of fish assaults him again.
“We can stop right now. You just have to admit that it hurts”, Mr. Hyde whispers, “C’mon. You know it does. No one cares for you. No one will come for you. You can cry”, he pauses and his grin widens impossibly, “Cry for the camera.”
Alex spits the blood in his mouth into Mr. Hyde face.
“Fuck you”
His face gets turned by sheer force of the backhand he receives. His cheek stings but not as much as the tip of his right middle finger does.
“I’m gonna enjoy this”, Mr. Hyde says grimly and Alex doesn’t get enough time to prepare himself for another nail on another finger getting ripped out.
Mr. Hyde doesn’t give him room to breathe, doesn’t give him a chance to recover as one nail after the other is ripped from its place. After the third one, Alex can’t hold back a scream. After all ten nails, his voice feel raw and the pain from the tip of his fingers spread into his hands and up his arms and he feels like he will never be able to move them again.
“And for our grand finale, how about a new haircut, huh Alex?”, asks Mr. Hyde as he puts away the nail-puller and grabs a pair of gnarly looking scissors, “Your bangs are growing a bit long, don’t you think?”
Alex can’t say anything, can’t do anything but try to recover his glare.
The first cut at his bangs still makes him jerk from the suddenness and the blade of the scissors catches his neck and leaves a shallow cut.
Mr. Hyde continues as if nothing happened.
Every cut of his hair, every strand that lands on his neck, on his shoulder, on his chest, is another thing of Alex’ that gets stolen, crippled.
For the first time in this hellish week, Alex wants to cry.
They’ve already taken so much. Do they have to take his hair?
He’s not a stranger to having to change his appearance and hair for a mission. He even prefers his hair short and they have gotten pretty long.
But the act of cutting his hair is strangely intimate, something that Jack used to do on the bathroom floor before everything. Cutting his hair now, as another tool for his captors to torment him, as prove for MI6 that he’s still alive, a futile thing that won’t get him help anyways, feels too intimate.
It feels worse than anything they’ve done before. They violated his body again and again, hurt him until he couldn’t stand anymore, tormented him. And still, cutting his hair is the thing that breaks him.
Time is an illusion as more and more hair falls down from his head and Alex barely feels it any more, his fingers are numb, his whole body is numb and his mind finally, finally retreats to a safer place where he doesn’t have to deal with his hair disappearing with every snip.
After an indeterminate time where Alex continues to float, Mr. Hyde puts down the scissors and bows out: “Thanks for tuning in and good night, everyone!”
Alex remembers the rescue in small increments. He remembers gentle hands on his face, helping him up; he remembers being carried into a helicopter, he remembers familiar voices and someone calling him by a code-name he hasn’t gone by since he was 14.
He only really comes to in the plane with hands on him that he weakly pushes away. His heart rackets up and his breathing gets out of control and all he can think about is that his rescue was just a dream and he’s still back there, still trapped, still not ever getting out.
The person in front of him looks nothing like Mr. Hyde or Dr. Jekyll though and the steady stream of words have a way too comforting timbre than anything those two could ever manage.
Alex lets the voice wash over him until he can recognise the words.
“Cub, it’s okay, you’re safe.”
Alex blinks the last of his panic attack away and finally sees a soldier sitting in front of him. The codename is familiar, as is the face of the soldier.
“Snake”, his voice is rough but his relieve shines through clearly.
“Hey Cub, good to have you back”, Snake smiles at him.
Alex looks around the small interior of the plane and recognises Eagle and Wolf next to a few other soldiers that are carefully minding their own business.
They really haven’t spared any expenses to get him out this time. A bit late but he’s still alive.
“Can I continue looking you over?”, Snake’s voice draws Alex back to the medic sitting in front of him.
Next to him is an open med kit and Alex’ chest is already bare and his hands are covered in bandages.
Something about being treated while unconscious is very uncomfortable. He doesn’t want anyone looking at him, touching him ever again but he knows that getting patched up a little is probably overdue, so he nods.
Snake works efficiently and silently apart from uttering a few instructions and Alex tries not to liken him to Dr. Jekyll.
After what feels like hours, Snake gives him a onceover and then steps away.
“This should be enough for now but you’ll need a hospital as soon as we land in London. I can only do so much.”
Alex nods, dazed. It’s all a little much right now. All he wants is a shower and a bed and a hospital doesn’t sound appealing right now with more people poking at him, looking at him. But he’s too exhausted to protest and honestly, a real checkup in a sterilised environment sounds a lot better than the almost hazardous floor of a military plane.
“MI6 said to first get him to HQ”, Wolfs voice rings out.
Snake frowns and Wolf doesn’t look particularly happy about it either.
“Fine”, Snake concedes after a long pause, “But right after, I want you to get proper medical treatment, clear?”
Alex nods.
Ridiculously, Alex wants K-Unit to accompany him when he goes to face Mrs. Jones and Blunt or whoever is waiting for him at HQ and then when he goes to the hospital. As much as he dislikes how they treated him at Brecon Beacons, as much as he hated being patched up by Snake, he wants someone he knows, someone who is in his corner with him.
He sighs. It’s not going to happen anyways. He doesn’t get things he wants.
Blunt looks at him expectantly. Alex lets the silence drag. Mrs. Jones unpacks one of her mint bonbons and pops it in her mouth. The crackle of the wrapping is the only sound in the room.
Blunt continues to stare at Alex, as if Alex was the one who ordered him here first thing. He’s not going to give him the satisfaction of being the first to break. He didn’t break during literal torture, he’s not going to break in this weird staring competition with his guardian/employer/owner.
Alex’ ribs protest from the position on the chair. His hands hurt, his head hurts, his whole body aches but that’s not going to make him break.
He wishes he could have made a quick stop to shower but Blunt wanted him here straight from the airport. The dried blood is mostly gone thanks to the wet rack Snake handed him on the plane but there’s still sweat and some blood clinging to his body and that’s about as uncomfortable as the breeze on his neck, a constant reminder of his shorter hair.
Blunt continues watching him and Alex stares back defiantly.
Finally, Blunt sighs heavily.
“Your performance was disappointing.”
Abruptly, Alex feels sick. Blunt watched him getting tortured. He thought for sure that Blunt wouldn’t have watched it himself. He was sure that there were employees for that. Someone that Alex didn’t know and that didn’t know Alex and would report the barebones to the top.
But Blunt was the one who saw how he got beaten again and again, how his nails got torn out, how he was taunted for hours on end and all he can do is tell him how badly he did. He probably has his nails and his hair in a covert somewhere in his desk, just as a reminder how badly Alex did.
Alex’ nailbeds ache. It’s humiliating enough that someone watched him. It’s worse that it was Blunt, of all people, who saw him this vulnerable. Even Mrs. Jones would have been better at this point.
Suddenly, Alex is surging with fury. He wants to jump up, give himself some leverage, even if it’s just performative, but his ribs hurt and his head is spinning and Alex really wants a painkiller and a shower and a bed.
The fury drains out of him as quickly as it comes and leaves only resignation.
“Really? That’s all you have to say?”
“You showed weakness. You strayed from protocol. We have tolerated your way of dealing with captivity while you were still a child but you are experienced now.”
Alex wants to laugh. When he was still a child? Legally, he still is. He’s sixteen. Verging on seventeen. Maybe he has experience but he’s still a minor. He shouldn’t even be allowed near a situation where something like this could happen. But Blunt has never cared before and Alex can’t bring himself to correct him, because honestly, he hasn’t felt like a kid in a while.
“You put our whole organisation, our government, to shame. You’re lucky we managed to intercept the transmission before it went public”, Blunt says.
Alex’s stomach drops. Mr. Hyde always says unhinged shit so Alex hadn’t really registered his words at the time. They really wanted to expose him as a spy to the whole world? Everyone would have seen him at his most vulnerable. Everyone would have seen him get tortured. Oh god, Tom would have seen him like this. Everyone at school. Alex feels sick.
“You let yourself be put in this position in the first place”, Blunt continues oblivious to Alex’ crisis, “We’ll have to give you RTI training; at the very least you need to attend lectures, a training course.”
Mrs Jones has subtly raised an eyebrow at his words. At least she doesn’t agree with Blunt. If only she would just speak up for once.
“Fine”, Alex says as vehemently as he still has energy for, “Can I go now?”
“Yes. Your RTI one-on-one lecture starts in half an hour. I want your mission report on my desk by tomorrow.”
Alex stares at him incredulously.
“What about the hospital?”
“What about it?”, Blunt retorts and Alex is unsure if he’s being serious.
Mrs. Jones has swallowed her first peppermint and opens another.
“Snake said I should go. He only patched me up provisionally.”
“Snake is a capable medic. You seem fine to me. Now go. Before you are too late and you will need an additional lecture on obeying orders.”
Mrs. Jones bites down on her peppermint and the crunching noise reverberates through the room.
Alex knows when he has lost a battle. He gets up, carefully making sure that he doesn’t aggravate his ribs or his other ten thousand bruises and lacerations and fails miserably. His cringe at his own movement doesn’t go unnoticed. Blunt frowns in obvious disapproval and Mrs. Jones looks carefully, artificially, non-concerned.
Alex slowly makes his way out of the room, on his crutch, trying not to jostle his injuries too much, still reeling from the conversation. It’s almost impossible to believe that six hours ago he was still being tortured in a dusty, bloody room and now he’ll get a lecture on how he should act the next time this happens.
He’ll have to postpone his hospital visit. Snake will be so disappointed.
But Alex knows: He doesn’t get the things he wants. Or the things he needs apparently.