Welcome to the Scrapheap

1.

AN (with warnings) at end of chapter

"You mean to tell me that three weeks ago one of our best agents was kidnapped by known contract criminals for an unknown client, that you have no idea where he is, and you mean to tell me this now?" Ben Daniels' voice was low and dangerous as he stared Mrs Jones down. "You've left him out there for three weeks to get tortured and killed? And of all people, it's Alex Rider out there?"

Mrs Jones frowned, giving Ben a warning look. "We have not, as you put it, 'left him out there'. These people are the absolute best. We've never had any solid information about anything related to them before. I'm telling you this now because we believe we have located the boy, and I want you to retrieve him."

Ben froze. "Why me, specifically?"

"Alex has, well... had a tendency to... lash out against strangers in the past. He'll be confused and ready to fight. You have encountered him on multiple occasions, we believe. A familiar face may keep him calm enough to get him to safety without any incidents."

"You mean he's been kidnapped before?" Ben knew that Alex was an active agent, but he'd somehow hoped that nothing really dangerous had happened. He was just a kid.

Oh, who was he kidding, he'd rescued Alex from drowning in an underwater wreck. In the jungle running from death. Snowboarding down a fucking mountain on an ironing board. That kid had seen more action than James Bond. But the one remaining human part of him through the agent was appalled that Alex had been kidnapped enough times that Mrs Jones would know his response.

Her only response was to keep her frown. There was a beat where she seemed to be calculating what to say. "Alex has also been involved with K-Unit. Officially, he is actually a part of the unit. I am aware that you are no longer SAS, but you may need multiple people on the recovery team, and they are ideal. They will be joining you."

Ben couldn't stop the flicker of suprise and pleasure at rejoining his old unit. He missed his friends.

Mrs Jones gave him a humourless smile. "They arrive in an hour. Here's your file. Good luck."

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There had been many moments in Alex's life when he thought he was going to die. Not many fifteen year olds have faced death more times than they have fingers, and perhaps only Alex has faced death more times than they have fingers by a multiple of three.

But then again, there isn't much about fifteen year olds that applied to Alex.

However, those times he had determination, luck and a chance to act.

This time, his soul had about died a week ago.

Perhaps it was when they pushed him into ice water until he passed out and kept him there as long as they dared. And then did it again and again until his skin was the same shade as the ice cubes floating in it.

Or perhaps when they whipped burn lines across his back.

Or shattered glass against his chest.

Cruel and unusual punishments, his kidnappers had promised.

Well, they had certainly delivered.

The pain was constant and all consuming and any hope or mental stability had long left his wracked body. Right now, he was only breathing out of habit.

Today was his last day.

He knew.

They were going to get the last of the pain out of his over-stimulated nerves, and then leave him where he was for dead.