A/N Yeah, I know I still have those other stories to write, but this idea came to me and I couldn't stop it. So, don't blame me… Now edited by Skylaar Wolf!

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider, though that doesn't stop me from trying to bribe Mr. Horowitz.

From Paris, With Croissants

The hallway stretched and turned both ways; he was at a dead end, and he had wanted to be there, to go through the door where he was positive the object of his mission laid. However, being at a dead end, there would be no excuses if he was caught. The people he was investigating liked to play with their prisoners before they executed him. Gulping, he creaked open the door. There! He could see it! He pushed open the door when he saw stars. Shit, he should have fingered.

The door was finger print rigged. He fell to his knees, hand out stretched towards the case. The last thing he saw was the head of his watch; it showed three thirty.

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Alex's mission had been to investigate a small bakery located on an off-the-beaten track corner in Paris. He had been told it was a smuggling stop for drugs and the more dangerous purified uranium. So, now, being two weeks into the mission and one week into spring break, he found himself in a cell below the bakery. Before he had gotten captured and knocked out, he had placed some small explosives in key points of the buildings frame.

They had knocked him out, only giving him a pat down. Besides what could a fifteen year old boy do? Due to the guard's muttering his complaints, Alex could tell the next shifting period was late, so it must have been about six o'clock. Alex took his locking picking kit from his shoe compartment. He slowly wiggled the pick and turned the other part, and he was rewarded with a small click.

Quickly, he threw open the door, making the guard who stood outside it stumble. Stealthily, he slipped out of his cell and threw a punch at the man's temple, knocking him out. Now to find his watch, which was the detonator, before the alarm was raised that he was out and escaping. He jumped from spot to spot, trying not to get in the camera's range of motion. Creeping along the hallways brought back memoirs from other missions. They weren't the most pleasant, but not gut reaching horrible like some of his nightmares. Enough, he thought. He snapped out of his thoughts when two guards rounded the corner. Diving into a shadowed area of the hallway and laying flat against the brick wall, he heard a snippet of their debate.

"Germany, cause-" he was interrupted by the other man.

"Don't you have faith in France? I got money on them."

"France is not going to win the cup-"

Their conversion continued, but Alex was no longer there to listen. He spotted the boss man's office, which he knew had his watch in it. The seconded door, he reminds himself. Alex and seen the man slip it in, along with his keys, before he got knocked out. Alex brought his new founded gun in front of him, switching off the safety. He slowly crept up to the door. Taking a deep breath, he kicked the door in; chips of wood went flying. Alex brought his gun up, scanning the room for threats.

None.

He lowered his pistol and walked off to the desk, opened the seconded drawer, and grabbed his watch and keys. Standing up from his crouch, Alex went to leave when his eyes were drawn to the computer. That computer, he thought, has all the names from several cartels and terrorist cells.

His hands moved, swiftly plunging in a stick drive that looked like an ankle bracelet. The drive quickly downloaded everything that was on the computer. Three quarters of the way through the download, the sirens went off, and yelling commanders could be heard.

Foots steps echoed down the hall; they had found the empty cell. He grabbed the drive, which had finished downloading, and ran past the now empty halls. Crap, Alex realized that the only way out was up, so they put all their man power upstairs and along the block. He took the stairs two at a time, gun drawn and out. He threw open the door and rushed into the room, firing shots at whoever was in the shop. It wasn't long until they started firing back.

One man stood in front of the door and another man stood behind the counter. Alex counted his shots and he knew he only had one more bullet. If I can't hit two birds with one stone, he thought, then let me hit the nest. With that, he started running. Alex felt the bullets wiz by him, one hitting his bullet proof leather biker jacket. The bullets that missed him slammed into the big glass window, which had the bakery's name on it. The glass didn't shatter. Crap, bullet proof, Alex thought.

The man behind the counter took another shot, clipping Alex's arm before it went into the window, making it spider web. One more shot, he thought as he brought his gun up and leaping onto the table. To Alex, it seemed like he was flying. Slowly, his finger pulled on the trigger and a small popping sound made its way to Alex's ears. His last thought before the window shatter was: Thank god the guns had silencers.

BAM!

The window broke, creating a shower of glass that cascaded out onto the side walk. He dropped to a roll and removed an extra clip, expertly removing the other one and sliding the extra on it, all before he got out of his crouch. Alex turned as he stood and shot twice, because that was all he need. Vaguely, he heard screams and cries.

"Alex!"

He heard someone exclaim. Pivoting, he turned his gun to where he heard the voice come from. Shock wasn't the right word for Alex's feeling.

It was more like dread.

Review! And I hope you got the title pun…