Chapter Text
Alex stands on the edge of the pavement. Even though he's in plain sight, the eyes of those passing by slide over him, as if he's invisible.
But if they did notice him, they would see a beautiful man, with a lithe and slender frame, packed with lean muscles that made him look like a dancer, and delicate features. He had blond hair and a truly gorgeous face with high cheekbones and thin lips. But the thing they'd probably notice the most was his eyes. They were a melting chocolate brown, but they were not soft in the least. They were hard, cold as steel, with empty, sad depths, eyes that had seen death too many times to count, eyes that had seen his hands painted crimson, in some cases lifeblood still warm.
But they couldn't see him, so what would it matter?
Alex likes to think of it as one of the many skills he has acquired through his life, along with the 15 different language, 10 different martial arts styles, shooting and knife-throwing skills, even obscure ones like knowing how to fight with a sword and learning how to read 1,500 words a minute.
He feels the sudden prickle at the back of his neck. Someone's watching him. That hasn't happened in a long time, but Alex is not nearly as surprised as he guesses he should be.
TAIPAN, (Torture, Assasination, Interrogation, Poison, and Annihilation), SCORPIA's successors, have slowly been growing, and believe it or not, they are worse than SCORPIA. And they have been fixated on killing him ever since he'd eliminated SCORPIA after the death of Tom.
Inwardly sighing, he turns and walks back into the house. They're good. Alex knows that he is probably going to die soon, but he'd rather not die by the hands of them.
But before he can enter the house, he is almost involuntarily distracted by the gasp of a little girl, who has her eyes fixed on him. And that is all they need.
The bullet races with deadly accuracy, finding its target, and Alex crumples to the floor. His last thought is I can't believe I'm going to die by a sniper, before his vision fills with black.
Alex doesn't know how long it's been, minutes, hours, days, weeks, but he wakes up to white. He's lying on a bed, and he's perfectly fine.
Jumping up, he immediately scans his surroundings. It should be impossible that he's alive, Alex has too much experience with bullets to not know that he should be dead.
The room is peaceful and quiet, stark and simplistic. Alex's attention is immediately drawn by a door, unlocked and untrapped as far as his sharp eyes can see.
Walking cautiously - he might be standing on land mines, for all he knows - Alex opens the door. There's a simple corridor with a few open rooms, but it ultimately seems to lead to the last room at the end of the hallway. Alex makes his way to it, and enters the room, only to freeze.
There are three people there, and they all seem to have been waiting for him. There are two males and one female. The male on the left is wearing a black cape and is dressed like he just stepped out of Victorian times, with the full ensemble- top hat, cane, pocket watch and all. He looks to be about in his thirties, but Alex isn't too sure about the fact. Perhaps it's because of his eyes, that burn with black, obsidian flames that seem to suck in light- and life.
The female on the right is also wearing a Victorian ensemble, a pale blue and white dress with a pale blue corset, hair done up in complicated tucks and twists. She has white hair and pale blue eyes, and she seems to exude life. Just by being near her, Alex feels healthy and more energized.
The last male in the middle, seems to be the youngest of the three, but Alex doesn't believe it one bit. In some cases, appearances are decieving- he does look to be around the same age of Alex, but his eyes are ancient, without colour, eyes that seem to glow like opals in a river, hues shifting, incandescent.
The male in the middle smiles rather oddly at Alex, like he knows something, something that Alex does not. "Hello, Mr. Rider. Please, come in and join us."