Kill Me/Kiss Me- An Alex Rider Fanfic

Mr Goodchild

"Someone is on Alex's roof; I have to take care of it." She fluttered her eyelashes up at him and smiled. "I'll be back before you know it." Hera winked and Tom was completely lost for words; for a trained killer, she sure dressed well for work. With another quick peck on the lips, Hera removed herself from his embrace and made her way out of the room.

"What's with the corset?" Tom asked suddenly and Hera smiled.

"It's bulletproof," she said at the door and reached into the drawer of her bedside table to retrieve a knife and strap it to her thigh. "I designed it, do you like it?" She asked innocently. Tom frowned.

"I think I need a second look to form a solid opinion." He said smoothly. With a wicked smile, Hera walked from the room, grabbed a pair of plimsolls from her shoe cupboard and ran out of the house. Tom left the room after her, hoping to get a glimpse of her hair flowing behind her as she ran. Unfortunately he bumped into someone else.

"Alex?" In the hallway, Tom found Alex peering down the stairs.

***

The climb to Alex's roof was tough; these London houses had windows so large Hera could barely get her footing right. Her arms were straining with her own weight as she was trying to pull her whole body past windows that were almost as tall as her. She cursed herself for becoming distracted with Tom and not preparing for this kind of encounter. It was stupid, utterly foolish, but lucky for Hera, she had busied herself with her anger than she didn't realise she had climbed the back wall of the house within a few minutes. Free running was one of Hera's favourite activities but she often preferred to be going down as opposed to up. Didn't matter; she was perched with her feet on tiptoe, on the highest window, her head ducked down below the roof, reading to strike. She had seen the figure up there when she had come out of her own house; waiting for her. She could barely make out a silhouette and was preparing for anyth-

"It's taken you seventeen minutes to get out here since you saw me." A soft, silky, pompous voice spoke above her and her eyes widened with surprise. "That's appalling." Hera looked up to see a man she had known for just over a year now. She gasped and reached up to take his outstretched hand. The elder man helped to pull her up onto the roof and smiled down at her as she almost fell into his arms. They held each other at arm's length. "Hi, baby." He said kindly, leaving Hera speechless. The man was six years older, with dark shaggy hair and an equally dark eyes, he appraised her with nothing but affection. His name was Daniel Goodchild. He was the newly appointed leader of Swallowtail.

"What...what are you doing here?" The girl said with a wry smile.

"I came to see you; I heard what happened with Molotov." He replied with a stern look. Hera shook her head in disbelief; she couldn't comprehend why this young millionaire would fly out to see her because she had received a few small scratches.

Hera was not blind to the fact that Daniel was completely infatuated with her. She never returned his affection, she belonged entirely to the world of her old partner, but it did not stop him. Daniel embraced her and marvelled at how tired he was after coming straight off a plane to see her, knowing that their conversation would end up being about Rider. It was a small price to pay; as he held her the smell of sweetly perfumed hair rose up to him, he knew this was as close to her as he'd ever get, so he may as well make the most of it.

A few days ago, in Blunt's office in MI6 headquarters, Hera had told him that she had refused to kill Alex Rider. What she had not mentioned was that she was the one who suggested capturing him instead.

-One year ago, Rome-

Hera walked with silent determination down the corridor of Parco Deri Principi, a hotel in the heart of Rome. As she walked down the warm, mirrored corridor, beneath the golden arches and in the dim candlelight, she began to remove the maid outfit she had stolen from a woman she had met two days ago. The woman was now unconscious in her apartment a few streets away. She'd be that way for a while.