DISCALIMER: I don't own Alex Rider. Thanks to my wonderful beta: OnlyABookworm!
Operation Zeta 11
If Alex hadn't been handcuffed, he would have found his capture hilarious. He had been too unobservant, and now, he was trapped in an elevator with two guns pointed at his back. Ben, his Zeta mentor, and Alex were happily descending in the elevator, listening to "Stayin' Alive".
Like any other stereotypical terrorist organization, Zeta had a basement. Of course, the basement wasn't actually a basement. Evenly spaced out, were six cells, perfectly the same besides the numbers labeled on the doors.
Alex was unceremoniously dumped into "Cell 1", the door slamming behind him. He could barely hear Ben and the Zeta agent's footsteps as they retreated. He was anxious, sure, but he knew that Ben would send a warning signal to MI6. It was all okay.
He examined the room, taking in his environment with a raised eyebrow. It was far more luxurious than any cell he'd ever stayed in before; and he had been captured a lot.
In the corner was a toilet – flushable and all. In the opposite corner was a bed. A cot wasn't really the right term to describe it. It was complete with a crisp white mattress with a thin blanket.
Alex turned his eyes on the door. It was a thick, steel door, with a small hatch for food to slide in, and a little window for him to peer out of.
It was a perfectly contained medical lab.
He hated labs.
Alex had been searched prior to being thrown in the cell. Every gadget he had on him (admittedly not that many) had been taken away. His clothes now consisted of a hospital gown that showed his bum whenever he walked too fast and a pair of sandals, which were surprisingly fluffy.
He almost jumped when a mechanical voice began to speak in Greek. He spun around, noting the small microphone above the door and the tiny, almost invisible, camera pointing directly at him.
"Please step away from the door and return to your bed. Subject 49 must receive eight hours of uninterrupted sleep to proceed."
Alex raised one eyebrow. Did they just expect him to comply?
"Failure to do so will result in severe punishment."
He guessed it wouldn't hurt to see what would happen if he listened. He crossed over to the bed, tossing off his slippers to plop on the bed.
"Lay down for Subject 49's vitals to be checked," Alex listened tentatively, "Heart rate: 64 BMP. Oxygen saturation..."
The list seemed to go on and on. Was this their plan? To bore him to death? Alex knew this wasn't the case, but he liked sarcasm to keep his spirits up.
Finally, the machine was done reading off the statistics and the room was left in silence. All too suddenly, the lights in the room darkened and the voice pressed on, "Enjoy the noises intended for the maximum comfort and benefit of Subject 49."
Alex lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The "noises" for his maximum comfort turned out to be a really loud version of a ticking clock. It definitely was not for his "maximum comfort".
He closed his eyes, trying to block out the noises. Another forty ticks later, he was asleep.
OPERATION*ZETA
Ben paced in the doorway behind John, impatiently waiting for him to say something. They were in an observation room – some sort of enclosed balcony – watching little figures in lab coats below them, scurrying around.
He couldn't take it anymore, "What are you going to do with Dan? Are you going to hurt him?"
John didn't look away from the figures below them. Instead, he gave a short chuckle, "He will be in perfectly good hands. In fact, you should be proud he was chosen for this experiment."
"Experiment?"
Ben really needed to go warn MI6 what had happened, but he knew they wouldn't come rushing in until he had all the information. Though Mrs. Jones was more attached to Alex than the fomer head of MI6, she would still rather let him die than to lose her grip on the organization.
"Yes," John finally turned away, "If we're successful, your brother will be a very valuable asset to Zeta."
Ben was waiting for more, "What do you mean?"
John smiled to himself, brushing past Ben, "It is nothing that should concern you, Jacob."
Ben watched as the older man left him there before turning back to the scientists below him.
There were vials upon vials of different colored liquids: green, purple, red, blue, black. The scientist shuffled around, mixing the liquids up in little chambers.
Ben didn't know what the vials contained, but damn it all. He wasn't going to let them experiment on his little brother.
OPERATION*ZETA
Alex woke up promptly at a low buzzing noise. He registered that it was some sort of alarm, but he really didn't want to move.
"Subject 49's breakfast is at the door," the same computerized voice told him. He cast a glance at the door, seeing that indeed, there was a platter of food. He wasn't very hungry, but he wasn't sure that Zeta would continue feeding him regularly. He rolled out of bed, taking the tray of food and inspecting it closely.
He deemed it safe to eat.
"Please follow Subject 49's guard to the nearest Magnetic Resonance Imaging machine. Does Subject 49 have any surgical clips, metallic fragments, and/or cardiac monitors implanted?"
Alex shook his head, "No."
"Subject 49, please follow the guard. Failure to comply will result in severe punishment."
Alex didn't know what to think. Perhaps he should disobey. After all, he did have a rebellious streak. Another part of him told him to listen. MI6 would rescue him before they did anything to him… right?
He chose to rebel.
Alex walked confidently to the now unlocked door, slipping out into the hallway. He found himself surrounded by two buff guards, dressed from head to toe in black with the exception of the little silver Zeta pin on their chest.
He was ushered down the hallway, but before the guards could take him to the MRI room, he struck. One well placed kick to the guard behind him and a lash to the back of the other guard's head and he was off.
Alex had no idea where he was headed, but any place was better than that place. He knew it was a matter of time before a camera spotted him running away – bum flashing and all.
Heart pounding painfully against his ribcage, he ran. Already, he was wheezing slightly, his bare feet slapping against the tiled ground. Somewhere along his journey, he'd lost his slippers.
Keep running, Rider.
Alex rounded a corner, meeting his first wave of Zeta agents. The alarm had obviously been sounded.
He was taken by surprise, but Alex had always been quick. He'd knocked out the guards with ease. He scrambled over them, checking to see if they had any weapons he could use.
They didn't have anything but tasers.
Alex took two, then proceeded to race down the hallway in a frenzy.
The next wave of Zeta agents proved to be more difficult. There were more of them this time, and Alex had somehow managed to get himself trapped in a corner.
He'd managed to incapacitate two agents with his two tasers, but he wasn't quite fast enough to dodge the other five agents.
He was out like a light.
When Alex regained consciousness, he realized he was resting on a hospital bed, an IV in his arm. He struggled to sit up, but found that his arms and legs were bound to the hospital bed.
He flopped back down on his back. What did he expect?
Someone had been keeping an eye on him. Within the minute, a doctor had come in, smiling pleasantly. Alex already decided he didn't like the man.
"Good morning, Daniel," the doctor greeted in perfect English. The name startled Alex a little, but at the last second, he remembered his cover story.
"Where am I?" He asked hoarsely in his American accent, "What are you giving me?"
"You're in our infirmary," Alex noted how the doctor didn't say who 'our' was, "and I'm giving you steroids."
If Alex was free, he would have leapt out of the bed and started strangling the man.
"What for?" He asked, his teeth gritted.
The doctor didn't say anything. Instead, he pressed a button by Alex's bed. His bed began to move him into a sitting position.
"What is it for?" Alex pressed, his fists clenched tightly.
The doctor settled next to him in a chair, studying the teen in front of him. Alex glared back.
"Have you been experiencing a cough that won't go away?" The doctor's voice was quiet, "Wheezing? Shortness of breath? Maybe chest pain? Blood in your phlegm?"
Alex didn't answer. He chose to stare blankly at the doctor.
The other man sighed and rolled over on his chair to the foot of Alex's bed. His file was there.
The doctor made his way back to Alex, pulling out some official looking papers and a scan result. He held the scan up to the light, "This is a PET scan that we took while you were unconscious."
Alex kept his face neutral, though his curiosity was sparked.
"See this here?" The doctor pointed to a brightly colored splotch, "This is a mass. It's in your lung."
For a moment, Alex didn't understand. He was shocked. Bewildered.
"You have Small Cell Lung Cancer," the doctor said, "And I'm afraid you don't have much longer."
A/N: 'Ello little Daleks! Is it weird to call you that?
If you're wondering how long I spent researching this stuff… I'd say in total, I spent at least 24 hours… But of course, I'm not a doctor (...yet?), so please don't freak out if you have one of those symptoms! But if you do have a concern, GO GET IT CHECKED OUT! And if you're wondering why I'm treating cancer with steroids… (*evil smiley face*)
Anyway, to Guest who reviewed Chapter 4 recently: Thank you for telling me! However, "Titan God" is a title, not the name of the "species" (I guess) itself. I'm 99% certain, just 'cause I researched the poop out of that too.
If you guys didn't know, I hate inaccuracies and tend to research anything I have a doubt about… And I tend to freak out if I do notice something wrong.
Alright. Hope ya like! Don't forget to review/favorite/follow! And on behalf of all the little Daleks that I own, I'd like to thank all of you guys for your continued support.
-A (kisses and cookies! Oh, one last thing: as you all know, SpyFest has come to an end… However, would any of you be interested in keeping the fandom alive with monthly prompts/challenges? Please tell me! THANKS)