Point Of No Return
Chapter One
Author's Note – Sorry, I am still alive, before I am going to update more chapters, I will re-write the chapters.
And Thank You to my MI High Beta, Pendragon2601 – without whom, this wouldn't be possible.

On with the story. .

Blane woke up to the feeling of unrestrained turbulent pain. His throat felt awfully tight and constricted and his head had felt like it had been trampled upon by herds of rhinos, horses, elephants - some kind of massive animal at the least. His body was aching in a way that hurt so much, it should've been deemed impossible. He felt like he had been beaten up - which after quick inspection of his clothes (what was left of them), and his body – he must've. There was no way he hadn't been beaten up. He groaned with great displeasure as he opened his eyes to the flickering lights all around him. It felt like a porcupine had rolled onto both of his swollen eyelids, and lifted it up and stuck all of his spikes into his retina. He was on the flat of his stomach, with his face on a hard floor. He coughed as he rolled on to his back and groggily sat up. He rubbed his eyes and squinted in to the darkness. There was a bright light to the left of him and he shifted over towards it with increasing curiosity. It was a door but it had bars, similar to the doors of a prison cell.

Prison.

Blane paled as the realisation dawned on him.

He started to panic he peered outside the gaps that separated the cell that he was being held captive, and the free world. There were logos everywhere of a crude skull with letters underneath it.

He recognised those - Heck, he could recognise those everywhere; his whole MI 9 career revolved around those four letters.

SKUL.

He ducked away from the bars as he heard the heavy footsteps of clumpy boots. When two uniformed soldiers marched past

down the corridor, he let out a breath that he didn't even know he had been holding in at the time. He was stuck behind enemy lines. In the enemy's own headquarters. The main headquarters. He was now in deep, deep crap. There was a grunt from outside the cell door. There was a chubby guard snoozing on a chair outside the cell door, holding some sort of magazine. What a cliché, he thought to himself, remembering past films he had watched. He began to search his pockets for his trusty pencil communicator. All of his pockets were empty. Including his secret pocket located inside the lining of his jacket.

There was a dark silhouette of a person lying on the floor next to him. He shuffled from his spot on the floor towards them, wondering if he knew them or not. It was a girl from the looks of her body and hair, and she was wearing MI 9 uniform, equally shredded as the one he now bore. Similarly there were parts that were stained with blood. He reached out to nudge the girl, and found the blood flaking off onto his hand.

'Daisy...? Is that you?' he whispered, with an air of emotion in his voice.

'Blane?' she whispered back in a hopeful but pained voice. She had just awoke from her drug induced haze.

'Yes!' Blane exclaimed happily and pulled her in to a hug, relieved that he wasn't alone or with some evil criminal. Daisy smiled as she hugged him back, feeling a little guilty but happy all the same. 'It's so good to see you.'

'Blane, what are you talking about?' Daisy whispered seriously with concern. 'And what are you doing?' she asked, gesturing at the sudden rush of affection he had shown her. Blane froze. He quickly pulled away, feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment, though luckily the lights were broken so he could hide his embarrassment.

'Daisy, do you have your communicator?' he asked quickly, trying to change the subject. Daisy began to search her pockets.

"Yes. Why do you need mine? Where's yours?" Daisy asked as she handed over her communicator still asking meaningless question. He shook his head, thinking that despite being in pain, she was still an inquisitive little thing. Blane pressed the rubber and held it up to his ear. All he could hear was static. He flicked the communicator and listened to it again.

'Hello? Come in, it's Blane. Hello?' he spoke in a hushed voice, praying that Rose or Lenny would answer. That way he and Daisy would get help and escape. 'Hello? Oh come on somebody answer!'

There was a gasp on the other end of the line and the sound of scrambling. 'Blane? It's Rose. Are you alright? Where the hell are you? Are you with Daisy?'

'Help us! Rose we're stuck in -' The sound of static reappeared, masking Blane's voice. He flicked the communicator again frustratingly and listened to it again, only to listen to static. The signal was lost. 'Damn!' he cursed as he threw the pencil onto the floor.

"We're in SKUL HQ!" Daisy gasped noticing the logo on the walls. "Oh this has got to be your fault!"

"How is it my fault?" Blane replied incredulously, pulling away from the annoyed girl beside him. 'I'm not a traitor! He replied. 'Unlike Chad. . ' he muttered under his breath, earning a glare from Daisy.

Daisy was stupefied to come up with an answer. She could not believe he had the nerve to bring up the topic of a certain American CIA agent again. She had felt so used during that mission. 'I never said you were, I just said it was your fault!'

'That's impossible. How could I drug me and you, then take two duped bodies to SKUL, beat myself and you up and lock myself in a cell with you.' Blane hissed back at her. Daisy huffed and glared back at him.

Daisy understood his reasoning, 'What are you implying exactly?' she said as she raised her voice at him. This was going to turn in to a full scale argument like all of the other arguments that they've shared before, Blane could feel it.

'Wow, Barbie's using big words! You left us to save the world, while you abandoned the mission and left with your Daddy -'

'Pipe down in there!' the guard that was snoozing on the chair outside, was glaring angrily at them, clearly annoyed his nap was being interrupted by two troublesome teens. Blane glared at the guard with a new found burning passion.

'Why are we here? What does SKUL want with us?' Blane shouted at the guard in a string of questions. The guard sneered at Blane revealing rotten, yellow teeth before casting a look at Daisy who was behind him. Blane felt her hand grip the hood of his jacket in fear, even though her face was wearing a firm poker face.

'We know who you are, Mr Whittaker and Miss Miller. You're not just normal teenagers, disregarding who your Daddy is. We know that you work for MI 9. We also know that your MI High team has the highest success rate.' he said emotionlessly, like he had read it from a well rehearsed speech.

'How you even know that?' Blane pryed, getting a sharp elbow in the ribs from Daisy.

'We have our informants...' he trailed off, smirking.

Blane leant against one of the dirty cell walls and thought about the chances of them escaping – without getting hurt or caught. They didn't look good at all.