Chapter Three:

Author's notes: Ugh. This is what happens when you don't have at least half the story written before you post. Unfortunately, my dear readers, I have somehow stumbled upon a problem. You see, I wrote the first chapter of the 'SAS-read-Stormbreaker' plotline, and guess what? IT DOSEN'T FIT THE STORY. It appears that, according to my sister, it is a "weak chapter that has too much of a different writing style to be included in 'Coke, Pot, and Other Things'".

Are you kidding me?

Apparently, she wasn't. Now I've decided to use that storyline in another, separate story. So sorry for the absolute lack of originality that this story (now) possesses.

Ugh.

The sun was low on the horizon when a car pulled up outside Jacques, the posh new restaurant located in Las Vegas. The blinking lights and tacky facades that were characteristic of the city were not present here; this was a new, more refined suburb. Many of Jacques' regular customers were influential businessmen, politicians, or the extremely rich. Reservations were required weeks in advance. Hundreds were forked over just for a dinner. Even a glass of water cost upwards of $60, depending on the distillation.

So naturally, when a beautiful woman dressed in burgundy silk stepped out of a Porsche, there wasn't much interest. Just another customer; another snobby lady with millions to spare. So she walked undisturbed across the marble floors, and through the revolving glass doors. She reached the expansive reception hall. Allowing a man to remove her coat, she made her way towards the reservation counter.

"Good evening, Miss Black."

The receptionist had been previously briefed; she knew exactly who was coming in, what they would look like, and how many people they would bring with them. This system had been put into place to help the diners feel comfortable – using names and titles to help familiarise them with Jacques.

"Good evening," Miss Black replied, a bit stiffly. "Has my associate arrived?"

"Yes ma'am. Please allow one of our staff to escort you to your seat."

A man appeared out of the shadows, dressed in the black and white colours of the restaurant. He led Miss Black to the elevator, explaining on the way, "Your associate is on the third floor, ma'am. In one of our private suites."

Third floor dining was the most expensive, but it was well worth it. Only the finest foods were served here. The floors were adorned with Persian rugs, and the walls decorated with artworks by masters like Van Gogh and Monet. There was a gallery as well, with an uninterrupted view of the lower floors. Diners could look through the one-way glass and gloat, without compromising their privacy. It was a place for the best of the best; the billionaires of the world.

Miss Black was escorted to the seclusion of a private suite, far away from the other diners. She thanked the guide, then, taking a deep breath, she walked into the room.

Mr Antonio De'Rosetto was sitting at the far end of the suite. His black hair was perfectly placed; every strand gelled back to absolute perfection. His eyes were cold as he looked at Julia Thornton – or, as she was known today – Miss Black.

"Miss Black," he said. "It is a pleasure, as always."

"And you, Mr Dezeré," her voice was toneless. She sat down in one of the lavishly upholstered seats. "I take it you have ordered?"

"I took the liberty of ordering for both of us," he said, smiling coldly. "The food should be here in a few minutes."

"Thank you." They sat in silence for a few minutes. Miss Black removed a mobile phone from her purse. "I'm getting a bit bored, Mr Dezeré," she explained as she opened the games program. "Not very ladylike, but then again, nobody's perfect."

She opened the games interface. Scrolling down, she chose 'BugZap!'. The screen came up. The menu gave three choices – Play Game, Load Game, or Bonus Round. She chose Bonus Round. A box came up asking for a password. She typed it in, and smiled as the game finally started.

BugZap! was an insanely easy game. All that was required to win was to zap the bugs which began appearing and reappearing on the screen. There was always a 'room' in which the bugs would be killed – a different room for each level. In this instance, the room was L-shaped, with only three bugs blipping on the screen. Miss Black moved her cursor towards one of them and clicked. There was a whirring sound as the bug was killed. She repeated the exercise with the other two bugs. That was it. Nothing more.

Hundreds of kilometres away, on the other side of the Atlantic, six MI6 operatives cursed as their only form of communication with Scorpia was destroyed.

Miss Black smiled. "Finally, Antonio, we can begin our discussion. You did carry out the usual checks, didn't you?" She asked the last question sharply, only just remembering.

"Of course I did. Video surveillance, traps… They weren't that sophisticated, if I do say so myself."

"MI6 must have been short of time," Miss Black mused. "Or else, they seem to be losing skill."

"Yes. Killing Agent Blue was rather easy, wasn't it?"

"Don't gloat, Antonio." Even so, her mouth curved into a reluctant smile. "What do you suppose he was thinking, walking half-asleep around the city?"

"I don't think we'll ever know." There was a pause. "Now, down to business."

Miss Black nodded. "Did you place our agent with Rider?"

"Yes. Agent X has already stirred up some trouble. Putting drugs in Rider's bag. It will only be a few weeks before Agent X knows all that is necessary and kills him."

"Good. Tell Agent X to make sure it is painful. Very painful."

Antonio nodded. "I will."

"What about the assassins we sent to kill the Prime Minister?"

"It worked. The government is working like crazy to try and hush it up. In a few days, everything will be chaos."

"And then we will strike,"

Mr De'Rosetto smiled cruelly. "And then we will strike."

Alex walked into the mess hall with the rest of his group. As they were walking through the doors, Tom turned to Alex. "I've go to go to the toilet," he said.

Alex looked at him oddly. "Yeah. Okay. I'm fine with that."

Tom nodded gratefully and turned to leave. Alex was still wondering over the incident as he sat down at a table. Why would Tom ask permission? Alex shook his head. It was best to just think about something else. As it turned out, that wasn't very hard.

Groups of people were walking into the mess hall, but none of them sat with Alex. Looking at everyone pass him by without a second glance, Alex realised that, without Tom, he had nobody. Nobody at all. But then Tom came back, and everything was fine again.

"I can't wait to eat," Tom said cheerfully. "I'm starved!"

Alex groaned as he remembered the quality of the food. "It might be better if you did starve."

"Quiet, you lot!"

Alex looked at the sergeant. He was standing near the back of the room, talking with Fox. Fox looked up every now and then, and pointed excitedly towards Alex. Alex had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't about anything good.

"You'll be served your food in a minute," the sergeant said. "But let me get things straight – you'll eat what you're given. You'll need the strength, and we won't be serving special orders for anyone. Oh, and Rider," The sergeant looked straight at Alex. "Fox has told me that you were being rude."

The students of 9B sneered at Alex. Some of the WAGGWLBB (We Are Good Girls Who Like Bad Boys) shared a secret smile. They thought that every time Alex 'misbehaved' it was proof of the tortured soul he apparently hid beneath a cold and unwelcoming exterior. They harboured thoughts of being 'the one'; of being able to change Alex into a sensitive, caring young man. Alex, of course, was largely unaware of this. He knew there were some girls who acted oddly when he got near them, but thought nothing of it. In fact, when a pretty young girl in his class had fallen into his arms, moaning in a low voice, "Oh, Alex, I feel so sick," he had told her, "Yes. You look it. Maybe you should eat more. You really are too thin." And another time, a girl from 9C had been skating across the boardwalk. She wasn't very good, and had fallen straight to the ground. Alex had walked up to her, asking, "Are you alright?"

Her face immediately showed delight, then quickly changed into an expression of pain. "I'm afraid I'm not very good," she said, clutching her ankle. "I need someone to teach me how to do this." Alex had answered slowly. "You know, maybe you should practise. Just a thought."

Needless to say, Alex wasn't very 'in the know' about the WAGGWLBB.

So, with the girls swooning and the boys sneering, Alex wasn't very happy. He wasn't angry; not really. He was just annoyed that the soldiers singled him out every time they saw him.

"As a punishment for this display of vulgarity, you will serve everyone food, for the next two weeks."

Alex sighed with relief. The program lasted for a total of two months – he wasn't sure if he could have handled having to serve everyone – like a servant – for the entire time he was here. At least two weeks would pass quickly.

Pretending to be upset, Alex got up and walked to the counter. "What do I do?" His voice sounded appropriately pathetic.

"Put on an apron, and a hairnet, then serve."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alex was laughing. A hairnet! He would look like a right idiot, wearing that. But, he reasoned, it's not like it actually matters. I mean, I know I'm better than them. I've saved the world, for crying out loud. Even if they laugh, (and he knew they would), I'm still safe. They're just a bunch of moronic losers.

With this firmly in mind, he tied on the apron, fastened the hairnet, then started doling out food. Even though he was repeating Better than them. Better than them… in his mind, he still felt a touch of embarrassment and humiliation as he placed the plates in front of gloating students. Matt was particularly difficult.

"You are such a freak," he sniggered. "You belong in a zoo."

Alex stared at him impassively. Then he leant down and whispered into Matt's ear, "I'd like to see things from your point of view – really, I would. But I just can't seem to get my head that far up my arse." Smirking at the furious look on Matt's face, he began to walk away. But Matt wasn't going to take defeat lying down. No. Of course not. At the last minute, he leaned over and stuck his foot out. Alex had seen the leg coming, and tried to swerve away, but the tray he was holding slowed his movements. Alex came crashing down, managing to avoid getting splattered by flying bits of food. This is the second time I've been tripped up by Matthew Parker, he thought angrily. He got up, and was about to turn around and thoroughly kill Matt when he saw the man in front of him.

Oh, shit.

Wolf was standing in front of him, covered from head to toe in the disgusting goop that passed for food in the SAS training grounds. His face was rapidly darkening, and his eyes were raging with fury. But some of his anger was replaced with shock when he saw who it was. Then that too disappeared. Wolf truly was a master at adapting to new situations.

"Boy," His voice was barely more than a growl. Alex winced. "What the fuck do you think you just did?"

"Um…" Alex played the part of a terrified boy perfectly. "S-sir, I was just s-serving the food… I think I t-tripped."

"You think?" Wolf's voice was low – so low, in fact, that the others had to crane their necks forward to hear it. "You want to know what I think? I think that I've found a new victim – sorry, volunteer, for the job of latrine cleaner."

"L-latrine c-cleaner?"

"Yes." Wolf nodded slowly. "We need someone to clean the outdoor toilets – no one else seems to want it, I'm afraid. I have absolutely no idea why."

"Y-yes, s-sir."

"Report for duty tomorrow at 4.00 a.m. sharp."

"Yes, s-sir."

Alex watched Wolf walk back outside, furiously wiping protein shake off his shoulders. Then Alex saw his classmates – they were looking at him rather disbelievingly. For a moment, he was confused. Then it hit him. Of course. They thought he was a gangster/criminal/drug-addict. His 'I'm just a poor lost boy' act had confused them. Alex groaned. This would not have been a problem back at school, but here, at the SAS training grounds, it was too easy for them to get suspicious and accidentally find some information. He fervently hoped Wolf knew he was under cover. Otherwise, what he was about to do could earn him a one-way trip to hell.

"Hey - Wolfman!"

Wolf turned around slowly. He stood there, looking menacing. Alex gulped.

"How tall are you?"

Wolf gave a small smile – a sort of smile that said, Are you for real, kid? He looked fascinated, as if he wanted to see where this led. "I'm 6'3. Why?" His voice was loud, and reverberated through the room.

Alex gave him his best 'I'm stoned' look. "I didn't know they stacked shit that high."

Silence.

I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm so dead…

"Excuse me?" Every word was spat out with menace. "What did you say?"

"Oh, so you're deaf and ugly… no wonder you can't get a date." Every instinct Alex possessed was telling him to shut up and run for it, but he forced himself to stay. "In fact, you're like an egg. You only got laid once and that was by your mum."

Wolf growled, "Why don't you come over here and say that?"

"I would…but I'm a little homophobic."

Wolf started to make his way towards him. He was practically spitting fire. "Quit it, kid. I'm going to make your life miserable…"

"By the way, can I borrow your face for a few days? My arse is going on holiday."

Dear God. I hope you take care of Jack. And Tom, too. And I hope Scorpia doesn't take over the world.

"RIDER," the sergeant's voice boomed through the hall. "YOU ARE HEREBY ON EVERY SINGLE PUNISHMENT DUTY IMAGINABLE! I WILL PERSONALLY MAKE YOUR LIFE A LIVING HELL! DON'T THINK I WON'T SEND YOU BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM, BOY."

"Of course you will," Alex soothed, cooing in a baby-like voice. "I'm sure you're brave enough."

The Sergeant looked dumbfounded. He had probably never been insulted before. "Are you implying that I'm a coward?"

"No, sir. I'm sure you're very brave and courageous. After all, you have to face yourself in the mirror every day."

Alex sat in the room, mentally cataloguing everything he owned and deciding who he would give it to. I knew I should have written a will…

The doors were barred and there were no windows. He was sitting on the bare cement floor, his back aching unbearably. He had been here for three hours. There was no light, and he couldn't see more than five metres away from his face.

Alex heard a creaking sound and covered his eyes as the door opened. The harsh sunlight was hard to bear after so many hours in the dark. He could just make out a shadowy figure – Wolf. He groaned.

"What do you have to say for yourself, boy?" Wolf was visibly restraining himself from punching him. "You stupid, worthless little…"

"I'm sorry." Alex thought it would be best if he got to the facts straight away. "But I had to do it. I was under cover."

"Under cover as what? A crazed drug-addict?" Wolf's voice was sharp.

"Yes," Alex sighed. "It's not the best choice, I know. But it wasn't really up to me. The people just assumed—"

"Just shut it, Cub." Wolf stood for a second, simply looking at him. Then he sighed. "I'm not going to ask why you're here, or why people think you're a drug addict. I'll just say this – if anything like that ever happens again, I'll personally tan your hide." His voice was still cold; Alex doubted that Wolf would ever like him.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now, I have some information to give you. Since all the maggots think you're doing punishment duties, they won't be expecting you to arrive at most of their training sessions. We'll make use of that. You will do activities with the soldiers – gun training, survival training… Basically everything you couldn't do on your last visit. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"And it seems that MI6 has sent an operative down here, to teach you all about… Actually, I don't know what they'll teach you – highly classified. Got it?"

"Yes, sir.

"Now, for god's sakes, get out of here."

"Yes, sir." Alex scrambled for the door, almost falling over in his rush to get out of the dreaded cell. He walked towards the cabins, breathing deeply, savouring the fresh air. Alex reached the cabins and cautiously opened the door.

Matt was sitting on his bunk, hungrily devouring a chocolate bar. Harry and Sam were huddled together, presumably playing some card game. And Tom was pacing the room, nervously biting his nails. They all jumped up as soon as they heard the creak of the door opening.

"Well, well, well… If it isn't Alexis, all back from the land of the damned." Matt sneered.

Alex ignored him. He sat down next to Tom. "I am so tired," he said. "The stupid cell they put me in was horrible."

Tom laughed. "And you deserved it, too. I can't believe you said that!"

"Neither can I," Alex admitted. "But he was making me so mad. I had to let it out somehow…"

"Maybe you should take anger management classes." Sam's voice cut through the laughter. "Because I know more than one person was disgusted by your little display there, Rider."

Alex looked at Sam curiously. He didn't know much about him – just that his parents were extremely rich. Sam always had the latest fashions and electronics; mobile phones, iPods, laptops… He had arrived at Brookland two months ago. The school was divided on whether to grovel at his feet and hope that he would give them gifts, or whether to hate his rude and snobbish attitude. But Sam was actually quite tame when compared to Matt.

Before Alex could reply, the door opened and Fox came in, his evil smile indicating something very, very bad. "Hello, little ones," he said. His eyes travelled to Alex. "That was a brave thing you did today, C—Maggot." He stumbled briefly on the words. "Although it got you into a lot of trouble. I salute you for being the first ever known being to insult Wolf to his face."

Alex didn't know what to say.

"Anyway… Everyone has to go to the mess hall. Hurry up, now."

"You will all be participating in a test." The sergeant's voice boomed through the hall. "It is designed to show us how fit you are, what your mental capabilities are, and if you have any common sense. We don't expect any of you to finish," he said, his eyes flickering briefly to Alex. "The test is far too advanced for that. It is meant for trained soldiers, not schoolchildren. But we do expect to see some sort of reason behind your choices. Anyone who can't hold up will be placed in separate training group – we don't want you to hinder the progress of other, more capable students." He looked at the students disdainfully. "If there are any."

Alex was interested. This test sounded difficult. After five months of lazing around, he was eager to begin another 'mission', so to speak.

"The test will be performed in pairs. I will assign them." Groans were heard throughout the room, only to be silenced moments later by the sergeant's thunderous glare. "Do not complain," he growled. "I promise you, there will be much to complain about later." He paused. "The testing will last for a period of two days or more. If you are not actively participating in the test, then I suggest you do some physical training. Our facilities are available to you, of course."

Alex knew he would not be using the facilities offered by the SAS. The evil smirk that graced Fox's lips was warning enough. From the quickly averted eyes and fearful looks of the other students, he knew they agreed with him.

"Unfortunately, there must always be someone who goes first. And I'm afraid that this time it will be Elsie Munt and George Daniels."

George looked terrified. Elsie, however, was sure of herself as she stepped up to the sergeant and spoke, "I think that what you are doing is unfair. How are we supposed to pass this test?"

"You can't. I already told you, it's impossible."

Elsie's face lit up with determination. "I'm going pass it," she said. "After all, how hard can it be?"

Elsie Munt was a serious athlete. She thought she was the bright light of the school, always winning competitions and being the best at everything she tried her hand at. It was quite annoying, actually. She acted condescendingly towards other people; treating them as if she was superior. Which, in a way, she was.

The sergeant smiled cruelly. "If you say so," he said. "Just go through this door, and someone will explain everything to you."

Elsie and George passed through the door.

Alex and Tom were sitting with the rest of the class in the centre of the hall. They had been there for two hours.

"Ugh," Tom groaned. "How much longer will they take?"

"I don't know." Alex paused, cocking his head to one side. "Actually, I think that's them now."

People started getting up cautiously, eager to catch a glimpse of their classmates. What they saw was not pleasant.

Elsie was limping through the door, her face pale and drawn. George, the poor boy, looked close to tears. Both of them had mud all over their clothes, along with an assortment of various bruises and scrapes. Elsie even had a long gash running down the side of her face. Blood was mingling with tears as she tried, and failed, to hold back sobs. "How could you?" she asked, gasping. "How could you…?"

"Bring in first aid," the sergeant said crisply. He turned to a soldier – with a shock, Alex realised it was Eagle – and asked, "Have you cleared up the area?"

"Yes. Everything is clean." Eagle spoke slowly, showing no emotion. Alex found himself wondering, with slight apprehension, what exactly they had cleaned. Was it water? Blood?

"Good. We'll begin the next test."

For the rest of the day, students were called out in pairs and asked to begin the test. They always left with the same single-minded determination, and they always came back broken and bloodied. The times varied – some completed it in half an hour, others took three hours. By the time Tom left, everyone was in hysterics.

Tom paused amid the general pleads of "Please don't make me, sir!" and turned to Alex.

"I'm sorry I'm not with you," he said softly. Tom was partnered with a boy called Harry Thompson. "Who are you going to go with? There are only four people left, and I'm pretty sure the sergeant is putting them in pairs."

"I don't know," Alex answered truthfully. "I guess they have some sort of plan."

Tom nodded, and smiling slightly, he said, "Wish me luck." He walked away.

"The rest of you will be taking your tests tomorrow," the sergeant spoke after a few minutes. "Remember; don't ask anyone who's finished the test anything at all. Or else, I swear, there will be trouble."

The new day dawned cold and gloomy. Alex had spent the night uncomfortably, tossing and turning in bed, wondering what the test was about. It was ridiculous, he knew – he had faced far worse danger before. At least in this mission he knew he wouldn't die. But Alex still felt the other's eyes boring into his back, especially Tom's. Before falling asleep, Tom had asked Alex quietly, "How can you do that all the time? As a job?" He had refused to elaborate further, simply sliding under the covers and closing his eyes. The bandage that covered his head taunted Alex, helping him dream up nightmarish stories about times long past. Alex had relived his time with Dr Grief three times during the night, before he managed to wake up.

After getting dressed and eating breakfast, the sergeant began yesterday's routine all over again. Name after name was called, until only Alex remained. He stood, watching the others. They looked at him with oddly blank eyes. Only Matt looked amused – he sneered at him, "Poor little Alexis is never gonna survive."

Alex ignored him, choosing instead to walk through the dreaded door.

He was in a small room. The walls were painted a dull brown colour, and everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. Wolf sat behind a circular desk, a thick file in his hands. Eagle, Snake and Fox were standing near another door, towards the end of the room.

"Sit down." Wolf sounded tired. He handed the file to Alex. It read: MISSION 691. HOSTAGES IN DANGER.

"You know that the Special Operations division of MI6 send their agents here," Wolf said. "This means that we've had to design hundreds of fake missions, intended to test SAS recruits and MI6 agents – both. It just so happens that this particular mission – Mission 691 – was designed by MI6, although we've been using it as well."

Eagle took over. "You have to complete this mission," he said, confirming Alex's suspicions. "And not get killed in the process."

"Have the others been doing Mission 691, too?"

Snake scowled. "No. They've been doing Mission 003. And I still think we should have made them stop at Checkpoint One," he said, to Wolf this time. "The little maggots think they can handle anything – and then, halfway through the second phase, they begin crying and telling us they're going to sue."

Funnily enough, Alex wasn't bothered by this comment. He was getting the usual rush – the one that always came with missions. Scared, excited, nervous – all the emotions were jumbled up together. Alex opened the file.

CLASSIFIED

MISSION BRIEFING:

FOR AGENTS

MISSION PLAN: Three hostages have been taken by the terrorist group Gangalad. The agent must successfully locate and rescue them within a time limit of two hours.

ADDITIONAL IMFORMATION:

The hostages are being held somewhere in the R——— Forest of Britain. It is up to the agent to pinpoint their exact location.

Gangalad's headquarters are armed. The agent must be warned that there may be guns, bombs, or other weapons.

The agent will not be supplied with any gadgets.

The hostages are not to be harmed. Any injuries on their person will automatically lower the result of the agent.

Alex raised his eyebrows. Fox explained, "It's designed to look exactly like a real mission briefing."

"Anyway," Wolf said. "Here's your map. You have five minutes to get ready, then you'll be leaving."

Alex folded the map and put it in his pocket. "Is Gangalad a real terrorist group?" he asked curiously.

Wolf looked at Fox. Fox smiled, then said, "Of course. Although I assure you, the real thing is a lot worse. I should know."

Alex carefully brushed away the heavy leaf that had fallen across his face, not wanting to feel its sting again. A few minutes before, he had made the mistake of whipping it away from him. It had swung back with terrible force, lashing at his face and causing blood to drip down – Alex had discovered, too late, that it was spiked. He was still nursing his wound as he walked across the forest floor, searching for any sign of a dirt path.

The map showed that there was supposed to be a path here – one that went on for 10 kilometres. Alex knew that if he wanted to make it in time he would have to run. But he couldn't find it! Precious seconds were ticking away and Alex didn't want to fail. The very thought of failure was unbearable.

In frustration, he kicked out at a rock and was startled when it toppled over. With growing relief, he looked at what he had thought to be a sheer rock wall. The rocks were very light – they were man made. I wonder what they're made of, he thought absently. They sure did look real.

He began running. The path weaved in and out of trees, so he found himself having to stop every now and then to check he was on track.

After what he judged to be three kilometres, he noticed an odd figure sitting in one of the trees. The man – for Alex now realised it was a man – jumped down and landed silently on the ground. He raised a hand in mock salute, his heavily scarred face forming a sneer. "You have made it to Checkpoint One," he said. "Congratulations."

Alex ignored him and continued running. To stop now would waste time.

Two more kilometres and Alex was beginning to feel the strain on his body. His legs were aching, and he felt like his lungs had shrivelled up. That had to explain why he couldn't breathe properly. Alex knew he hadn't completed any serious runs in the past few months. That would have to change. If he continued like this he would end up on a couch, watching TV, eating crisps, with fifty-nine cats wandering in and out of the house. He smiled at the image. Unfortunately, smiling made him laugh, which wasn't the best thing he could have done because he was gasping for air as it was. Soon he was lying on the ground in an effort to get his lungs working again.

He felt something whiz just above his head. An arrow lay on the floor in front of him. With a start, Alex remembered Snake's words. The little maggots think they can handle anything – and then, halfway through the second phase, they begin crying and telling us they're going to sue.

Alex was in the second phase! That meant that there were probably weapons or traps of some sort – he couldn't afford to be tired. He looked around carefully for the source of the arrow. It had to have come from somewhere.

The forest was the same as always. The plants, the dirt, the trees… Then Alex noticed that a particular tree had two shades of wood. The majority of it was dark, but one small, round circle was light in colour. He realised that the arrows came from here. Maybe there's another one…

He looked around, and sure enough, another tree had the same circle. Alex kicked himself for not being more cautious. I'm not taking this seriously enough, he realised. The reason I perform so well on missions - the reason why MI6 wants me – is that I always act as if it's a life-or-death situation. But this is just a training exercise. What am I supposed to do?

Alex knew what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to think of this as another mission. So he did.

Okay… Gangalad have taken three hostages – Jack, Tom, and Sabina. I have five kilometres left to run, and there are probably traps along the way. It should take me around thirty minutes to finish. But where are the headquarters?

Alex looked at the map. The trail continued on for another five kilometres, then veered to the left. But that couldn't possibly be where they were hiding. It was too open. Gangalad would want a more secluded area. Then a saw it – there was a cave just two kilometres from here! But that seemed to easy… Where are they? he thought angrily. Could they possibly be hiding under the shadow of a mountain?

And then he realised that there was only one possible place left. Indeed – underground. It would be the best place to hide a large group of people, and he knew that no one would come looking for them.

But Alex would.

He began the run with renewed vigour, keeping an eye out for traps. The leafy undergrowth would hide the best of weapons, he knew. And although his legs were begging him to stop, to take a five minute rest, he kept himself focused by picturing Tom being tortured in some underground cell.

Soon he came to a clearing. The path in front of him ended abruptly, veering sharply to the left. Alex cut through the shrubbery, checking his map to make sure he was heading in the right direction. He only had one hour left to finish this mission.

The sound of rushing water began to get louder and louder. Alex knew he was getting closer to the Santorini River. He was going to have to swim across it.

Alex finally reached the banks of the river. It stretched on for around five hundred metres; a mountain peak was visible on the other side. Just as he was about to come into view, he remembered his promise to treat this like a real mission. Was this area safe? Could there be someone waiting for him? The sound of water would cover any noise…

It turned out he was right. Alex spotted a man sitting in the trees, covered for the most part by the canopy. If Alex hadn't been looking for him, he would have been impossible to see.

I have to get out of here quickly. No fancy stuff…

Alex walked into open view; slowly, cautiously. He stopped when he reached the bank of the river. It was here that he sat down.

Alex felt, rather than heard, the man jump off the tree. He was ready when a powerful arm gripped him in a painful bear hug. Alex's sides were being squeezed mercilessly, and he knew that there was no space for him to execute any destabilizing move. Alex reared back, striking the man with the back of his head. He was only momentarily disorientated. But it was enough for Alex to get some room and deliver a sharp elbow strike to his stomach. The man backed away, assuming a fighting stance.

But Alex didn't have time for a fight. He picked up the rock that he had taken while he was sitting down, and threw it with as much force as he could. While the man was distracted by the sharp rock in the air, Alex delivered a quick front kick to his groin. The man fell to his knees. Alex finished him off with a punch to his lower jaw.

Alex didn't stay around to wait for him to wake up. He ran to the river, jumping into the water.

The cold came as a shock. The water was freezing; Alex felt as though his lungs were constricting.But he forced himself through the water, swimming with steady strokes. After what seemed an eternity, his hands touched solid earth. He got out of the water, his clothes clinging limply to his frame, and shivered at the sudden drop in temperature. I thought the water was cold, but this is much, much worse.

He didn't feel the cold for long. Alex started running as soon as he got out, heading in a north-easterly direction. Even though his limbs were aching with the effort of his continued sprint, Alex knew he couldn't afford to stop. There was only around half an hour left. It would take all of his strength to make the time limit.

Alex sprinted across the soil, racing for the mountain peak. There would be no guards here – what was the point? Only an idiot would be wandering around in some godforsaken forest, and even if they did manage to find the headquarters, they would have no idea where to enter from. Come to think of it, even Alex didn't know where to find the entrance. Oh well. He could deal with that later.

What was happening with the mountain? It was so far away… It seemed to shrink further into the distance even as Alex raced towards it. Five minutes, ten minutes… Finally Alex reached the base. He was panting for breath as he searched frantically for the entrance.

He heard a footstep behind him. Shit! There are guards!

Alex twisted his body around, kicking a cloud of dust into his attacker's eyes. As the man coughed, Alex delivered the most forceful kick he could think of – the roundhouse kick. The man crumpled. A curse from his right alerted Alex to another presence. Before he could think to move, Alex was in a tight hold, with his hands gripped by the unknown assailant. Alex instantly stepped back and grabbed his attacker's wrists and twisted them outwards, forcing the man to bend forward in an awkward position. His upper body was completely open – Alex directed a knee kick to his solar plexus. The man fell to the ground, immediately losing consciousness.

By this time, Alex was breathing heavily. I really am unfit, he thought. I'll have to start training again. Then, remembering where he was, he snorted. Not that I'll have a choice.

"Great show, Cub."

Alex turned sharply towards the noise. He couldn't contain a surprised gasp.

The sergeant was standing there, and was that a smile on his face? No. It couldn't be.

"You know, I really didn't think you'd be able to finish this mission."

"But I haven't finished yet," Alex coughed weakly. "I haven't rescued the hostages—"

"You weren't supposed to. That was only a ploy to get you to hurry up."

"But—"

"Listen," the sergeant interrupted firmly, a touch of impatience colouring his voice. "The real task was to see whether or not you could meet the physical demands of this mission, and to see if you figured out where the 'headquarters' were. There were no hostages."

Alex remained silent.

"And of course, there was the man you knocked out over by the river. He'll have a nasty bruise by tomorrow."

"What about these two?" Alex asked, pointing at the men on the ground.

"Yes, well that was unexpected. They're actually Wolf and Snake."

It was then that Alex noticed that they were, indeed, Wolf and Snake. He had been so wrapped up in fighting them that he hadn't realised who they were. Now he groaned. I'm in so much trouble.

"You weren't supposed to knock them out," the sergeant said. "But, well, serves them right for not being ready to fight you."

"So what happens now?"

"You go back to your cabin. Don't forget to wake up at three a.m. today."

"Why?"

"You have a lesson with the MI6 instructor." It was clear from the way he spoke that he didn't think much of the 'MI6 instructor'.

"Okay."

"Good. Now get in the jeep so we can get you back to the training centre."

That night – or rather, the following morning – Alex woke up quietly. It was still dark outside. His aching muscles implored him to get back in bed, but Alex knew that if he didn't show at the lesson, he would be punished. Better to deal with it now than later.

He slipped silently out of the cabin, never noticing the bright eyes that followed him until he was invisible in the moonlight.

The boy with the bright eyes blinked, a cruel smile forming on his lips. He bit his lips savagely, until a trickle of blood dripped down his face. He licked it off, savouring the sweet taste. "Alex Rider," he said softly, "I will kill you, Alex. And I will enjoy it."

He slowly fell back into sleep; his dreams filled with the silent screams of the dead, echoing throughout the night.

Author's Notes:

Well? Did you hate it? Love it?

Sorry about the long wait. My exams did keep me busy, and then there was schoolwork… Anyway, I got my results back.

I passed! With FLYING COLOURS! There were colours just WHIZZING THROUGH THE AIR, MAN.

And you want to know why I passed? Because of the reviews you guys left me. SO REVIEW!!!! (And also because I studied, but you know, that doesn't sound as good)