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Prologue
Of Prison Cells and Radio Reports
The first thing that returns to you as you regain consciousness, Ian noticed, is your hearing.
He could hear the whispers of the other captives; there are ten of them all working in the Special Forces. The sound of wind rushing past the rusted barred window of his cell. The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stone corridor.
Next is your sense of touch, as rough calloused hands yanked him up off the floor by his right arm, and thrown against the cold, damp, stone wall of his cell, the piercing pain of the flesh on the back of his scalp breaking as his head whiplashes against it. While this is happening he realises that his taste and smell has returned as the cheap, stale cologne reaches into his nostrils, so bitter he can taste it.
Lastly, is sight. Blurry at first but after a minute he can see his captors cruel, scarred faces, sneering at him. Ian could see the faces of the other captives glancing up at him, looking worried but they learnt early on not to intervene.
A few months ago he would've fought back himself but all his strength, physical and mental, had left him. He had lost count of the days he had been trapped in this dark cell and after the beatings, failed escape attempts and the malnutrition, he no longer cared, he was on his own. It wasn't until about three weeks ago that he had started to get some 'bunkmates' and in a way that had helped get rid of some of his hopelessness, it gave him a new reason to keep fighting, to not give up. They were all younger than Ian was, some by more than ten years, leaving Ian with a protective complex over them, the youngest was only nineteen, just a few years older than his nephew and as far as Ian was concerned, they could pick him up, throw him against the walls, do whatever, Ian no longer gave a damn but the moment they touched any of the others, there was going to be hell to pay, this in turn also gave the captors more leverage against Ian, making him suffer because they couldn't get near the other captives.
The fist hit him full on the jaw.
" You listening to me, Rider?"
Its was only then did Ian realise that he was being talked too. The man had a pudgy, cruel face. Scarred from many fights and a badly set nose that must've been broken in one of them. His eyes, looked black in the dim light, were uneven. The right one was a little higher than the left.
Ian was then whacked round the head with a...newspaper?
"Brought you some reading material, go on take a look"
Ian looked at the title.
San Francisco Chronicle.
Ian looked at the man curiously. Why did he just give him a San Francisco newspaper?
The man just smirked.
"Keep reading"
San Francisco Chronicle, January, Friday 13, 2012.
Ian froze. It had nearly been three years. Three Bloody Years!
Ian glared up at the man, who in return chuckled darkly.
" That's not even the best part yet, just keep reading Rider"
Ian glanced at the paper.
" Didn't think you would be interested in the Black Friday sales. Do you want me to buy you something?"
Ian heard the other captives stifle a laugh, one coming out as a snort, making them laugh harder. The man glowered at Ian.
"So, the comedian is back. Can't say I missed you. Turn the page Rider!"
Ian did as he was told.
Local High School under Investigation"Why should this..." Ian was cut off.
"Down one"
Ian looked at the story title below.
Pacific Heights High School Soccer Team Goes to State!
Scanning the faces of the teenagers, Ian finally understood why they had given him the paper.
Alexander Rider-Pleasure, Aged 16 ( Co-Captain/Striker)Ian looked at his nephew's face. The baby features gone, now replaced with the same sharp features of his father. His blonde hair had darkened maybe by two shades. More of a dirty blonde in comparison to the golden haired boy he knew. Another thing, the 'boy' was definitely no longer a child. He was now a young man.
What had Ian missed in the years that he was gone? Why was Alex living in San Francisco? Why was his surname Pleasure? Where is Jack?
The paper was torn away from him, leaving his hands cut and stinging, not that Ian noticed. He was too caught up in his own thoughts.
There was a clang as the cell door shut, the men started to walk away.
The man with the crooked eyes stopped.
"Don't despair Rider, we're under new management, you will see your nephew again sooner than you think" The man laughed, and walked out of the corridor, leaving Ian numb, and confused, with ten other men staring.
...Line Break...
"Twenty-one year old, Andrew Hilliard was abducted from his Los Angles home last Wednesday night. Hilliard worked in Special Forces and is the tenth man with connections to the Special Forces to go missing in the past three weeks. Police are not suggesting that these disappearances are connected but they have not ruled it out"Yassen Gregorovich turned down the volume on his car radio as he watched the family across the road move in, a small smile playing on his lips as he studied the face of his former mentor whilst he juggled cardboard boxes. A beautiful blonde women trying to organise the two teenagers as they got out the car using every excuse in the book to get out of the work, the younger female dragging her older brother out by his leg, their father scolding them for their foolishness.
Yes
Yassen thought to himself.
I think it's about time I had a talk with little Alex
Yassen turned the car keys, his Lexus rumbled into life, he pulled out, driving away from the housing estate.
A.N
Wow a new story! This plot bunny kind of slapped us in the face. It does break our 'Dead stay Dead' rule but hell now it's just a guideline we no longer follow.
This story would've actually been posted yesterday but sadly Word crashed and we lost everything.
Also we distracted from the plot when our drunk older brother came into the room much to our amusement
"Josh your sisters are laughing at you"
"No they're not they're laughing with me"
five minutes later
"Josh! Why did you put F***** bourbon in your little sister's drink!"
"But I didn't"
"Yes you F***** did I can F***** smell it"
Haha good times...Happy Meals -Jean & Diana
For all you Americans, we need some information like
How many school periods in a day?
How long is a school day?
Headmaster or Principal?
Term or Semester?
Homeroom or Form Class?
Public Schools, do they have Uniform?
What are American high schools actually like? Are the TV Shows/Movies over exaggerated or are they actually like that?
What is Homecoming and Prom? Why do they matter? What time of the year do they usually happen?
How would your school react to a British, kept to themselves, teenager?
This information is critical for the next chapters so the sooner you want us to update the sooner we need the information.
So Please Review!