Nice to meet you…again.

Author : Aceccentric.
Fandom : Alex Rider.
Pairing : Can be consider friendship or very, very slightly slash. Yassen/Alex (You may have to squint really hard.)
Rate : T

Warning : Again, slightly slash. OOC. Slow updating. Bad grammar. (Sorry about this, but English is my second language and I have no beta.) Names maybe misspelling 'cause I don't have English version book.

Summary : Alex Rider lose a bet to a teenager pickpocket who he met by chance at a street one day and make it his life mission to find out who the hell is this boy. But all Alex knows right now is that his cerulean eyes look so familiar and his name is…Cossack?

Note : Well, this is my second fanfic, so please read and tell me what you think. I don't mind criticism as long as you tell me politely. Oh…and this story has nothing to do with 'From all of as to you' (my one-shot) though the SoPB will appear. (For those who don't know what it is, I'll explain in the story later.)

Disclaimer : Alex Rider belongs to Anthony Horowitz.


Prologue.

Walker inhaled deeply.

This would not be the first time he kills and today's job was supposed to be easy. Still, he was, nonetheless, nervous. After all, you didn't get to kill world's best assassin everyday, right?

He adjusted his doctor white gown again slightly and did the last minute check.

Ready, he kept his sweating hands inside the gown pocket and opened the door of the changing room, facing the nurse station. Only one nurse was sitting there, holding a clipboard. Computer screen gleaming on the desk enlighten the tag on her uniform and told him that her name is Diana Meacher.

Summoning his confidence for all it was worth, Walker gave her a tired, but resign smile that all doctor usually have on a long night shift and hid his relief when she, in return, gave him an understanding smile, greeting him softly. If she was surprise when he walked pass her heading towards the forbidden section, she didn't voice her query, just simple let him passed easily without any question.

The hospital corridor at midnight was overcastted with shadow, adorned with small dim light on the ceiling. It seemed to be long and endless, only darkness awaited at the edge. A few night shift nurse and some late-working doctors paced around.

He held up his hand, greeting them.

They nodded, acknowledging him.

He continued on his way.

They forgot about him.

Perfect.

Walker noted that the closer his destination, the more security lining within the walls. He ignored it. They were not his problem. It was his other colleagues' duty.

Finally, he arrived.

Room 9.

An armed policeman was sitting in front of the door. When he saw him, he stood and asked for his I.D. card.

Walker put his left hand into his gown's pocket and fumble around, pretending to find his card. Then he felt his mobile vibrated, it was a signal from his friends, means that the security cameras had been taken care of. Whoever watches the tape would see the same screen of the quiet room repeated all night and they wouldn't know what really happen until the morning.

Bring out the fake card; the policeman leaned forward to inspect it.

Quicker than an eyes blink, Walker stroked his left hand on the guard feeble neck three times.

He died instantly.

Not even bat his eyelash, Walker left the man in sitting position out of the room and walked inside. The room was all white and boring just like any other room in the hospital. A soft light from the crescent moon coming in through the window illuminated the figure on the small, uncomfortable bed.

His target lay still on his back, looking so vulnerable, almost out of life save for the soft breathing sound. His wrists were hooked up to numerous tubes, pumping drugs through his veins, assumed to be nutrient solution and tranquillizer.

Not even a trace of what he once was could be found.

Walker walked closer to the bed, taking out a tiny pill from a casket. He reached out the other hand to capture his target.

Suddenly, a hand caught him and he found himself staring at a pair of blue eyes.

So maybe he didn't lose his touch after all.

"Who sent you?" The voice was hoarse and no louder than a whisper, but still held some weight and warning. The ex-assassin was as pale and weak as one could be, yet his grip was quite tight, considering he had been in coma for nearly a year and just woke up 2 months ago.

…though still not tight enough.

With one flip, Walker was able to unloose his hand and swiftly seize the man's jaw, shoving the pill through his throat followed by a glass of water, ignored the target's resistant attempt.

The effect was instant and Walker released his hold.

APTX4869… an untraceable lethal poison the organization has developed. It involved the activation of uncontrolled apoptosis which cause death by the destruction of cells.

Glancing back at the room one last time, he saw the man on the bed thrashing and gaping in agony, but only choking sound could escape from his lips. Faded smoke was emitted from the shaking body. His face was distorted in pain and his sharp cerulean eyes look back into his killer's brown ones.

Walker closed the door.

The next morning, the nurse found an empty bed; no sign of someone had ever been there.


A/N: I bet whoever read case closed knew what is going to happen…
Anyway, I wonder how many people remember who Diana Meacher is. She is not an OC.