A/N OMFG I'm so sorry...

The chapter is so fucking short! I... *sigh* Okay, I admit it. I might have a wee bit of the symptoms of the disease called Writers Block. I barely managed to squeeze out this chapter, which is why it's so short. I don't know if anyone actually reads my Author's Notes, but to anyone who is reading: Any pointers, any way that I can improve? Hmm... I should probably add those questions to the bottom of the page, where people actually read...

SO SORRY!

Disclaimer: Eh... Anthony Horowitz≠Me (Pessimistic Guardian Angel). That should be enough...


"All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost."

-J.R.R Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring


"How was your stay?" the man sneered. Alex didn't reply—he was too tired, mentally and physically.

"Oh, come on, Alex. Don't tell me you're fed up already!" the sadistic captor cried, mock-horrified. Alex managed to gather himself enough to let out a disgusted grunt at the man.

"Let's go over your lessons so far—what did you learn?"

When Alex didn't reply, he said it louder, more forcefully. "What did you learn?"

He asked, over and over again: "What did you learn?" and Alex would reply with a stoic, but cracked silence. With every question that was unanswered, Alex would receive a kick to his ribs, legs, or arms.

Finally, when Alex couldn't take any more, he managed to grind out, "Sometimes the worst kind of torture is the torture to the mind."

"And what kinds of psychological torture did you experience so far?" the man asked sweetly.

"Sensory deprivations, solitary confinement, and sleep deprivation."

"And the one where I had the guards talk to you overnight without stopping," the madman sang.

"Monster… Inhuman…"


And so, Alex woke up in cold sweat. Again. He frowned, and turned over on his sweat soaked bed to check the time on his watch, which he had conveniently placed on the left side of the bed—the one facing the other cots. His sheets were already fully soaked, soaked enough to not make a sound when he rolled over to his left side.

5:47AM

Alex grunted quietly, knowing that Lady Luck was smiling down at him, for once; Britain's elite soldiers were supposed to wake at six in the morning, and he had woken up at 5:47. He got dressed, deftly lacing up his combat boots.

5:50AM

Great—just enough time to half-deafen the rest of K Unit. He carefully eased his iPod—Smithers made—from under his sweat-damp pillow, unlock it, turn up the volume to a 100%—which was around fifty times louder than any normal iPod, thanks to Smithers—and play one of the most crappiest songs he had ever heard; it was a screamo song that he won't name because he wanted the people in the unfortunate band to at least make a living, however minute their profit was.

5:53AM

He was ready; he had positioned his iPod in the middle of the room, where the ear-drum-tormenting song would be equally heard among the four soon-to-be-victims.

5:56AM

He grinned, and put on his earplugs—Eagle snored, okay? But he stopped putting them on after Eagle's snoring woke him up from a dreadful nightmare—and wrapping the pillow and sheet around his ears just for good measure.

5:57AM

He fished his phone out from his bag—a gift from Smithers for his birthday, a nice change from him 'forgetting to return' the gadgets like the iPod—and got the video camera ready. Of course, the video would be grainy because it was taken on a phone, but it'll have to do. He'll have blackmail material, and You Tubers would love it.

5:59AM

He had set the timer to go at six sharp, and he couldn't wait. The time was near…

5:59:47AM

A few seconds more…

6:00AM

As the blasted music filled the cabin, the members jolted awake with various reactions:

Snake simply sat up with an alarmed yell.

Eagle screamed and clung onto his pillow, crumpling to the floor in a pitiful heap much like Sullivan, hands covering his abused ears.

Fox landed on his feet, eyes wide and searching the harmless room for any danger.

Wolf roared, the sound overall angry with a touch of distress, landing on his feet, hands groping his bed for any weapons available. Apparently, he had just decided to make-do with the pillow, for he drew the pillow like a gun or possibly, a sword.

And Alex? He collapsed onto the floor in hysterical giggles, having filmed the whole thing.

"Oh my God, this is rich!" he cackled, running out of the hut, barely managing to dodge the heavy combat boots and feather-light pillows thrown his way with surprising force.


When the SAS men who were the unlucky victims of Alex's affectionate, cruel, antics stumbled out of the army hut, still half-deaf, they settled their glares—some were strong, some were less than strong—on the "perpetrator"—eh… Not really—who was smiling cheerily.

"How was your day, lads?" the culprit said sweetly, stretching out his British accent to a maximum.

"Cub…" they growled simultaneously, eerily in sync.

"Come on, we'll be late for breakfast! I know how much you men love the glop they call food!"


When the quintet finished their unappetizing, stomach-churning breakfast—the breakfast menu was the ever-popular Glop, Sludge, or Unappetizing Muck—they headed to the designated meeting place for the trainees. Just as Wolf opened his mouth to holler about the training that they were to do that day, the Sergeant walked over.

"Cub, meet me in my office," he barked, tone clipped and sharp.

"Yes sir!"

A tidal wave of Ooh's, Busted's, and cruel laughs followed the Sergeant's curt message, trailing after Alex.

Many had puzzled looks on their faces, but the majority had opted to just lay back and insult the poor kid. K Unit just stared at the quickly disappearing back of a certain Alex Rider, also known as Cub.


Sorry for the crappy chapter... Again. I don't know what's wrong with me. Actually... I do. I think I might have come down with a wee bit of the disgusting disease called Writer's Block.

So any pointers, advice, grammar checks, are appreciated. Thanks! (Critisism too... You guys know I'm not an experienced writer... I'm pretty new. Not sqeaky new, but more like... a faded glow new. Still new, but not as new... xP)