Black Masks - Chapter 4

The cold air whipped across my face as I stumbled towards the chopper. Rider was barking orders to us with the authority of a seasoned marine. His voice magnifying and carrying through the grim evening. My black gloved hand gripped the cold metal of the black hawk and I pulled myself in, joining four of my class mates. I threw myself into the nearest seat and strapped myself in. The clouds outside were darkening, shadows growing longer and the horizon growing greyer by the second. I took a second to mentally step back and see the whole picture. It was surreal and almost comical. I was sitting in a war chopper, dressed from head to toe in combat gear, on my way to training camp under the command of Alex Rider. The world span around me as reality hit me another slap across the face. The blades whirred loudly as we prepared for lift-off, the runway was clear now. I clutched the edges of my seat as the ground lifted away from beneath us; I glanced around to see my group. There were two other guys and three girls. The blond girl was a friend of my little sister, she was only 15 but was a fantastic athlete. I knew Pete, the same age as me; I'd played rugby with him for 3 years. I nodded at him, his face was pale and he clutched onto his seat mirroring my position. I realised that I must look as sickly terrified as he was right now. There was no point shouting over the whirring of the blades so I settled in for the night time ride and closed my eyes against reality.

The army lied. It was not cool, exciting or glamorous to be in the army. It was damn right difficult. I already missed my bed and the brain dead monotony of the television. We were finally dropped off in a small remote camp, broken into groups and sent off running, no marching to bed. The small metal frame creaked as I moved on it. I clenched my eyes shut as the wind howled outside. I had none of my personal possessions, no mobile phone or iPod, just the regulation kit given to all the new recruits. All the same, uniform and dreary. Now we were lying in army cots in uniform lines, our meager temporary possessions stored in a metal cabinet next to us.

"Michael?"

I grunted in response from my foetal position on my bed,

"Michael?"

I gave up and sat up, shivering against the cold air.

"Yeh what's up?" I mumbled to Pete, who was lying on his side in the bed next to me.

"Do you think Rider had to do this? Y'know all the training?" he whispered, his eyes glinting in the darkness, I slumped onto my side listening to the lack of sleeping sounds from my camp-mates. Obviously no-one else could sleep either.

"I suppose he did, He'd probably been about 14 at the time." My mind reeled at the thought of it,

"Its madness, he's been hiding it from everyone for ages! I thought the kid just got sick a lot but hey it turns out he just got shot through the chest!" Apparently Pete was finding this as hard a concept as everyone else.

"And he survived" I mumbled,

"I wonder what he's going to make us do" whispered someone to the left of me,

"Will we get guns?"

"I wonder if he's ever killed anyone"

"Nah he's probably lying about loads of it, no-one our age would be do this kind of stuff normally…"

I groaned and shoved the pillow around my head.

I groaned again. But this time it was out of sheer pain and exhaustion. We had started training at 0530 hours that morning. Rider had marched into the dormitory and ordered us up and out of bed. The sleep clouding my vision I struggled to pull on my unfamiliar training gear and almost fell on my face. We finished dressing and stood at attention. Rider strode down the aisle between the beds and stopped in front of me. His dark blue eyes coldly observed me. Despite being 2 years older than him I felt like shrinking back. I kept my back poker straight and held my head high.

"Michael Taylor?"

"Uh yes sir"

"I trained with you"

"Sir?" I couldn't remember one time when I had trained with Alex Rider for any reason. He face showed little emotion, but I saw a glimpse of the 16 year old boy he really was in that second.

"In ju-jitsu, we trained in the same dojo."

"Oh with Sensei Matthews! He was a mad man..." I blurted out, recognition flooding back.

"He once broke my wrist!" Alex smiled slightly then nodded, resuming his role again he turned and marched further down the aisle, upon reaching the end he turned and barked.

"Today we will start with a 5 mile run with fully packed sacks. Move now!"

I snapped out of my reverie and started shoving everything I had into my sack.

An hour later we were reaching the final leg of our run. My legs were screaming and I was gasping for air. I pumped my legs further trying to mentally reach for those fabled reserves of energy. The ground was wet and the country side was hilly. We had all been chosen by MI6 due to our fitness and skills. I was chosen due to my high level of proficiency in Ju-jitsu, with that came fitness. However it seemed that Rider's aim was to push us beyond and above our comfort zones. We all barely kept at the pace set for us and a few had thrown up already. I mentally prayed that my stomach would stay calm and my eyes would stop watering. I clenched my teeth and ground on. I hated the heavy boots we had to wear; it felt like running with two bricks strapped to each foot. The camped reared its head over the hill and I lost all sense of control. All I knew was that I had to reach that destination and still be alive at the end.

Now I wished I'd died somewhere in a field, my body never to be found, trampled underfoot by my comrades and swallowed up by the mud. The blood was pounding in my head as I completed another round of punching drills. My arms were leaden and my mouth dry. To obtain at least 1st Dan in Ju-jitsu, you have to train for at least 4 years. Despite the common misconception, martial arts aren't just the fancy moves; it involves the culture, human anatomy and weapons training. Determination, strategy and endurance are hammered into your body many different ways. Coming out of a training session you would feel sore, exhausted, sweaty yet exhilarated. The punishment was its own reward in a way. But in this case I just wanted to collapse and relish in the rest. Some of the people training had no martial arts experience at all and according to Rider that was necessary. We were given simple white gi and obi according to our ranking. The beginners had red belts, the colour of freshly spilt blood. He had taken us into a massive gymnasium, kitted out with floor mats and focus pads.

"You will learn the basics of striking and defence. If you are cornered at any point being able to fight your way out may be your only chance. You will do the same exercises until I am satisfied that you won't hurt yourselves." Alex strode into the middle. I felt the thrill of anticipation; he was getting ready to fight someone. I glanced around me to see who else I recognised as fellow black-belts. There was the small blond, Kate, who happened to be amazing at Karate and Johnny who was the belt below me in Ju-jitsu.

"The people you will encounter in the real world will be masters at what they do. You will only come out alive if you take advantage of every weakness and opportunity. They will not take it easy on you just because you are teenagers." He barked yanking the edge of his gi just enough to give us a glimpse of the deep scar he had from his bullet wound. "This is no time for complicated moves, all you need to do is get them on the ground quick and long enough to get away" I grinned, that was all the fun of martial arts.

"Taylor, could you give me a hand please?" I paused for a second unsure whether he was talking to me or someone else. No-one else moved so I shuffled onto the mats and faced Alex Rider.

"I will demonstrate on Michael here, please don't try this at home."

Next thing I knew I was being beaten to a pulp in front of dozens of class mates. I closed my eyes and groaned.

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