Ghost followed the Lieutenant to his office wondering what the man wanted. It might just be a check up to evaluate the progress of the two units compatibility to to work together, Stanley had said they would have to make regular updates after all, but by the hard lines of the man's face he suspected it could be something more. His mind wandered back to the note Lieutenant Stanley had left on his chair.
MI6. Blunt. Anatolievich. Miami. Get kid out.
The two unknown people who had escorted the kid they'd rescued out were undoubtedly MI6 and they had arrested the Lieutenant for trying to tell Ghost about...something which they were planning. And that was the odd thing, Stanley had been one of the most professional men Ghost had ever known, it wasn't like him to randomly decide to break protocol and suddenly blurt out top secret information. The kid had nodded when B-Squadron had asked if Sir Friend was his father, but he had looked much more like he was on his way to the gallows than a kid who'd been rescued and was on his way back home to his family. And who was Anatolievich? It was a russian name for sure, but Stanley had written Miami and that was in Florida. It was all too confusing and Ghost didn't know what he was meant to do to help.
They reached Lieutenant's office and Ghost stood at attention like usual before being told to sit down. It was strange to see another man behind the desk where Lieutenant Stanley had used to sit. There was silence in the room as Carmicheal inspected him. Ghost decided to break the silence first.
"What's this about sir?"
Carmicheal glared at him for a second before conceeding. "I've just had a telephone call from the Covert Actions Division of the CIA." Carmicheal said simply.
Ghost's eyebrows raised, whatever he had been expecting, this wasn't it.
"Sir?"
"There's an extremely high profile operation they'd like us to complete, and I've been told to pull both B Squadron and the british SAS unit out of your international relations exercise."
"How come they want the Brits involved in this too?" Ghost asked, confused, "surely the CIA don't have any kind of jurisdiction over them?"
"They don't," said the Lieutenant slowly, "but MI6 is heavily involved in this operation as well."
Oh right, that made sense.
"So what's the operation?"
"I'll hand over all the case files to you shortly, but I may as well explain it briefly to you now, it may help us get a head start. Two men escaped from Baskerville prison in England this morning-"
"Baskerville?" Ghost asked confused, "isn't that from Sherlock Holmes?"
Once again, Ghost found himself on the recieving end of a glare from the Lieutenant across the desk. "Yes, it is, but it's also a high security facility in Dartmoor for those which MI6 deems too dangerous to keep in a regular prison. And I will kindly ask you not to interrupt me again before I am finished."
Ghost nodded, opened his mouth to apologise and shut it again, he wasn't sure if that counted as interrupting. The Lieutenant didn't seem to notice as he continued on, "One of the men was your old Lieutenant - Cuthbert Stanley, it is believed that he was wounded in his escape but has made his way back into the U.S.A."
Ghost couldn't help the look of surprise which had no doubt fallen across his face, Lieutenant Stanley was a fugitive? It had only been the day before yesterday he was here at Fort Bragg ordering them about as usual.
"I can see you're shocked by this, but don't worry we're not asking you to hunt him down." Carmicheal shuffled some papers formally, "We know where he is, and he'll be in custody very shortly."
This did not comfort Ghost one bit. Could this mean that whatever this top priority operation was was linked to the kid? Stanley was going to risk his job to tell him about the kid - would he risk a prison break and his life for him as well? Carmicheal had said that MI6 were involved too so it was possible that the two were connected...
Lieutenant Carmicheal's voice brought him back to the present and he focused his eyes on the man, his mind working overtime.
"The other man who escaped is who we want you to find. His name is Yassen Gregorovich, he is a very dangerous man, have you heard of him?"
Ghost shook his head. Another russian though? Was it possible that Gregorovich and this other man Stanley had mentioned, Anatolievich were connected?
"No, I don't see why you would have. He worked as an assassin for the criminal organisation Scorpia for almost twenty years, until an operation went wrong and he was shot almost fatally in the chest. He's been kept in Baskerville for about a year. To anyone outside of the very top branches of MI6, Gregorovich is dead." Carmicheal handed him a picture of an attractive man who looked to be in his early thirties, with blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin.
"Alright," said Ghost, hoping that this didn't count as an interuption, "and he's in the states?"
Carmicheal nodded "It appears so."
"Do we have any idea where he might go?" he asked, "Or even why he's escaped now instead of earlier? And why did he break Stanley out with him?"
Carmicheal looked up at him, his eyes steely. "That is why this operation is so high profile."
The Lieutenant handed him another file, it was thin and marked almost comically, 'TOP SECRET' there couldn't have been more than two pages in the file and for a high profile case that was odd. Ghost knew what that must mean - most of the information in here was redacted.
"This is Alex Rider," the Lieutenant explained as Ghost opened the file. Ghost stared at the picture inside, it was the kid they had rescued, the level 10 priority civilian. His brown eyes started out of the image, too serious for his age. If his name was Rider why had he pretended Sir Friend was his father? And what was he doing mixed up with assassins like Gregorovich? He'd seemed like a nice kid. He'd barely had time to look at the image before his attention was brought back to Carmicheal.
"As you know, two days ago B-Squadron was sent on an operation to retrieve him after he'd been kidnapped from his school in San Francisco by the same organisation Gregorovich used to work for. You were asked to forget he ever existed, to put him from your mind, well, you're going to need to put him firmly back in. I'm not allowed to tell you details, and quite frankly, I don't know any details to tell you if I wanted to. All we know is that Gregorovich is probably looking for this kid and he's not the sort of person who is going to give up readily."
"Why do they think he's after the kid? And what would a man like Gregorovich want with him?" asked Ghost, this was going from mental to crazy, "Do they know each other?"
"I believe they do know each other, yes. Rider was mixed up with Scorpia in late August last year but I know he's had dealings with the man in the past." Ghost couldn't believe what he was hearing, a kid mixed up with assassins and Scorpia? Misreading the look on Ghost's face he continued quickly, "don't worry, Rider isn't a danger to you or the government - I've been assured, but looking at his track record…" Carmicheal trailed off, a curious expression on his face, then he seemed to regain himself, "but anyway we need you to find Gregorovich before he finds Rider. When Gregorovich and Stanley escaped they were overheard discussing the boy and the names of his foster family were mentioned. But our problem is, we're not allowed to know where Rider is, it's confidential information, apparently." Carmicheal looked annoyed, "Even if it's to help catch a dangerous assassin, we're not allowed to know. We also don't know yet for sure whether the man means Rider any harm. MI6 seems to believe he doesn't, though with a man like Gregorovich, we simply can't be sure."
Ghost resited the urge to put his head in his hands. They were being given next to no information about the case, and they had to find one highly trained man when he could be anywhere in the country? It was madness.
"Do we have any idea where Gregorovich is now?" he asked hopefully.
"No, I'm afraid not. We've put a protection detail around Rider's home address and we have every law enforcement officer in the country on the lookout. We have helicopters up in the air and every agency is on high alert but SIS don't think it will do much good."
He handed a stack of files to Ghost, "This contains information about the Rider boy and Gregorovich, though as you can see most has been redacted for security reasons, but all the information the CIA and MI6 think you will need should be in there. You have two hours to go over the information with B-Squadron and K-Unit and see what they make of all this, then I want you out of Fort Bragg. You will, of course, have backup available to you and as other squadrons are on routine assignments and not operations, we're pulling them out of their priors to be on standby; they will all be at your disposal. If any of the Squadron leader's have a problem with you taking charge, tell them they can take it up with me."
Ghost stood, picked up the files with his left hand and saluted with his right, "Yes, Sir."
"Good, dismissed."
Ghost turned to the door, his mind reeling.
"Oh, Ghost?"
He turned back to Carmicheal. "I get the impression that this operation is a bit of a wild goose chase, I don't think they expect us to succeed." His tone was sobering, but it was a change from the harsh, brutal manner in which he'd conducted himself so far. "Let's prove them wrong."
Ghost deposited the files in B-Squadron's barracks and tried to come to grips with all the information he'd just been told. The kid they had rescued, this Alex Rider, was being searched for by one of the world's most renowned assassins, and it wasn't clear what the russian's intent was when he found him. And no one knew where either the boy or Gregorovich was. What Carmicheal didn't know however, was that Ghost and B-Squadron had been given a clue - Miami. He wasn't sure whether he should have told the Lieutenant about Stanley's tip. If Stanley had decided to confide in Gregorovich during their break out from Baskerville, then he would know that the kid was in Miami and mixed up with a man named Anatolievich. And the question was, did Gregorovich know this Anatolievich? And why wasn't SIS scouring Miami looking for Greogorovich if they knew that's where the kid was and-
Ghost took a deep breath. He hated the world of spies and espionage, it was all too political. He left the barracks and jogged down to the shooting range to find Gun and Eagle shooting long distance from the floor, the rest of their units egging them on. Charge saw Ghost approaching and walked over to him, his uniform was covered in sand from the shooting range floor.
"They're neck and neck and it's down to the last six shots. Eagle has had a dozen arguments with Apache already, you can practically see steam coming out of his ears." he said excitedly,
"With Apache? Why? He's shooting against Gun."
"Apache keeps putting him off," Charge grinned devilishly, "I think Eagle fancies him, and I'd say Apache probably fancies him too, he's just his type."
"What?" asked Ghost, laughing. "Looks incompetant, but is actually very good?"
"He'd have to be good to keep up with Gun." Charge acknowledged, winking.
"Are we talking about shooting or sex now?"
"Both I think, it's easy to get them confused." Charge said casually, "Hey, what did the Lieutenant want?"
"We have an important operation," Ghost said quietly, "we have two hours to formulate our first move and then we need to move out of Fort Bragg."
Charge looked at him in surprise, "But what about the international thingy? I thought that was like, the most important thing ever? Will they go back to England?" he asked, gesturing at K-Unit.
"No, this is a joint operation, we're teaming up."
Charge grinned widely, "Nice," he said drawing the word out, "I'll get to see these boys in action. They-"
He was cut off by a sudden shout from Eagle. "You knocked me!" He all but shouted at Apache, "that's cheating."
"I did not knock you!" the man defended hotly, "Buddy, all I did was lightly tap you on the shoulder."
"You threw off my shot, buddy!"
"Now, why would I do that? We don't need to cheat for Gun to beat you anyway."
Eagle glared at him, picked up the DMR rifle he had been shooting with and emptied the remaining bullets into the target without pause.
"Wow, nice shooting" said Gun, his eyebrows raised, looking genuinely impressed, "who did you imagine was the target?"
"Oh," said Eagle nonchalantly, getting up from the ground, turning to stand very close to Apache and then said pointedly, "just someone I don't like very much."
"Alright, enough." Ghost shouted as Apache squared up to Eagle, preparing for a fight, "we have an important assignment. Get cleaned up and meet me in our barracks in 20. You too, Tommy boys."
He turned and walked back toward the barracks, leaving the rest of the soldiers to squabble.
"Look," he heard Eagle say from behind him, no doubt addressing Apache. "I could beat your lousy sharpshooter anytime-"
"Lousy!" came Gun's outraged cry, "I'll show you lousy!"
"Hey, wait!"
Ghost turned around to see Wolf jogging after him.
"What's this about an operation? And how come we're joining you? Is it part of this international relations bollocks?"
Ghost cracked a smile, "No, it's not part of the relations stuff, it's a joint operation between british and american intelligence and they wanted their best people on the job, and we're here together anyway so..."
Wolf nodded, "What kind of operation is it? Retrieval?" It was the obvious assumption to make, with high profile assignments, it was usually a kidnapping of some sort.
"Actually," Ghost said, watching the man's face for his reaction, "it's more of a man-hunt."
Wolf blinked, surprised, "A man-hunt?"
"Yeah, for a man named Yassen Gregorovich."
"Who?"
"He's an assassin that was employed by Scorpia, he broke out of a high security prison in the UK this morning - along with our previous Lieutenant."
Wolf stopped in his tracks, touching Ghost's arm to stop him too, "Your Lieutenant was in prison?" he asked incredulously, "Why?"
"It's a long story, I'll brief you with the others when they arrive." Ghost set off again, gesturing for Wolf to follow. "This man Gregorovich - he's looking for a boy - one we rescued from a kidnapping two days ago actually."
"Jesus, poor kid."
"Tell me about it," agreed Ghost grimly, "when he left here he looked - well he looked scared, which was strange because when he was kidnapped he was cool as anything, even wanted to stay and search where he'd been held himself."
"Is he from a wealthy family?" asked Wolf, "Maybe he's been kidnapped before."
"Well that's what we all thought," Ghost explained, "but then Sir David Friend turned up and-"
Wolf stopped again, a calculating expression fell over his face. "Wait, wait, hold up. David Friend? As in the multi-billionaire? The Supermarket guy?"
Ghost nodded.
"This kid," Wolf said thoughtfully, "he wouldn't happen to be about fifteen, blonde with an ear piercing?"
Ghost pondered this, "He's blonde for sure, and he has a piercing in his ear, but if I had to guess I'd say he was younger than fifteen, he's fairly small. His name is Alex Rider."
"I don't know his civilian name," Wolf said, shaking his head, "do you have a photograph?"
"It's back at the barracks, why? Don't tell me you Brits all actually do know each other?"
"Maybe," said Wolf thoughtfully, not really hearing the question, "I've just got an idea who it could be is all."
Ghost looked at his watch, and set off once again toward their destination, Wolf following close behind, "Come on, we best get to the barracks before the rest of them get there."
When they stepped out of the theatre it was almost completely dark. Alex was once again being needlessly guided by Anatolievich's ever present right hand. Joseph and the car were still parked outside and Alex thought about how boring it must have been for him to wait for them. When they neared the limousine, Joseph saw them approaching and left his position in the driver's seat, going over to the rear door and opening it. Amaliya was in the front passenger seat, her arms folded tightly and a scowl residing over her heavy features. Alex wondered what Joseph must have said to upset her - probably something along the lines of "Hi, I'm Joseph, who are you?"
Alex's mind was still focused on Georges and he paid little attention to the conversation about the play Lindsay and Anatolievich were engaged in. They entered the car, Lindsay first then Anatolievich. Alex was about to step in until something caught his eye over the top of the veichle and he paused, one foot inside. It was his school secretary, Miss Sadie. But it couldn't be, she was in the CIA's custody, surely. B-Squadron had taken all his kidnappers back to Fort Bragg with Robert and the others. How had she escaped?
"Alexander?" asked Anatolievich from inside the car "don't dawdle or we'll be late for dinner."
Alex's mind was, once again, reeling. His brain was trying to piece together the facts quicker than he could process them. He wanted to go follow Miss Sadie, to find out how she had escaped to find out what she was doing here.
Alex heard Anatolievich sigh. "Alexander?" he repeated snappily, "I would appreciate it if you got inside the car."
Alex nodded, ducking his head to enter the limo, he had a role to play, he couldn't go after Miss Sadie now, no matter how much he wanted to. The mission was more important.
Something hit the base of Alex's neck and immediately he clapped a hand to it, thinking it was a mosquito, but as he reached back he found that something much larger was sticking out of his skin. It was about an inch long and it felt like metal, and even as he processed this information, he felt the thoughts slipping out of his grasp, slipping further and further away. All the sounds of the city became muted, and the light from the street lamps blurred together. He became faintly aware that he was falling backwards towards the pavement, but there was nothing he could do to stop himself, all his muscles seem to have turned to jelly. He became dimly aware of a sharp pain in his elbow, a screech of tyres and the feeling of someone pulling him roughly up from the ground and then, everything was black. The last thought running through his mind was - again, really?
"Is this really necessary Alan?" asked Mrs Jones skeptically.
Blunt looked at her from across his borrowed desk, his face blank and emotionless than ever. "I believe it is, Mrs Jones, we've told Alex about Anatolievich, but he still doesn't really seem to grasp the severity. It was the same when he was on that operation for ASIS. He didn't care that the Snakehead were committing atrocities, he only went to get to know his godfather."
"And we know how well that went." muttered Mrs Jones.
Blunt ignored her, "It was really only after he saw what was happening at the hospital and he himself was almost used for organ donation that he really got moving."
Mrs Jones looked at her boss, shocked. "You can't say Alex is selfish, that he only helps others when it would help himself-"
"I'm not saying the boy is selfish," he said swiftly, cutting across her, "I'm simply suggesting that he is more effective once a danger has been demonstrated. There is a definite pattern you have to admit. That operation for the CIA last year, in Skeleton Key for instance - once Tom Turner and Belinda Troy had been killed, he was much quicker on his feet. And once again at Point Blanc, after his friend James Sprintz was targeted, and again when Drevin tried to kidnap his own son. He seems to have a bit of a saving people thing."
Mrs Jones was quiet, she couldn't argue with that. It was true after all.
"Are the team in place?" Blunt asked her, not waiting for a reply.
"They are."
"As soon as they spot Alex in Miami, I want them to take action. There's no point in waiting if there's an opportunity open to us."
Mrs Jones nodded.
"Now that's settled, I think it's time to pay a visit to our friend downstairs." Blunt rose from his seat motioning for her to follow him and walked to the door, "How is the former Lieutenant Stanley doing anyway?"
"The doctors say that he's stable and they should be able to take him off the ventilator anytime now."
"Good." he said thoughtfully, "he'll be able to tell us just exactly how much he's told Gregorovich."
When Alex woke, he was lying on a cold tiled floor, his hands bound tightly behind his back, his left cheek pressed hard against the ground. His head felt like it was full of cotton wool. He'd been drugged, and from the fact that he couldn't move his arms, it had been up to the eyeballs. He lay there, semi-conscious for he didn't know how long but it felt like ages until he was even able to open his eyes. He squinted, looking around, he was in a small high-ceilinged room, which was bare apart from a metal chair in the far corner, with peeling white paint, a single light bulb, a security camera, no window and a fully tiled floor.
He tried to move his arms and almost screamed, previously the pain in his elbow had been muted by the drugs but as the effects were wearing off, it was coming back full force. Even if he could have moved his arm more than a few inches without hurting it, he was restricted by the thick length of rope which was wrapped tightly around his wrists.
The rope was fraying and scratchy, it tickled his skin roughly, even through his shirt. His suit jacket was missing. The same scratchy feeling was present around his neck, and he cursed silently. The rope around his wrists was attached to the one around his neck, and it was pulled tight. If he moved his hands more than an inch out from his body, he would strangle himself. A quick test of his ankles told him that they too were bound together. There wasn't much he could do but lie here and wait for whoever it was who had kidnapped him to make themselves known.
So he'd been kidnapped, again. The image of Miss Sadie flashed through his mind. He'd forgotten. Miss Sadie - or whatever her real name was was here in Miami. She must have somehow evaded capture, or escaped. But how did they know where he was? And he still didn't have an answer to who they were. Fans of Scorpia MI6 had said, but who?
As if someone was listening to his thoughts, the door swung open and Miss Sadie walked in, accompanied by two of the fake ambulance workers which had kidnapped Alex the first time.
"Hello, Alex." said Miss Sadie sweetly, bending down to ruffle his hair, "How are you?"
Alex glared at her. "Just peachy," he said sarcastically, "and how are you Jean?"
She smiled, looking genuinely amused. "I'm well thank you Alex," she clicked her fingers, pointing at the metal chair, "Boys."
The two men which accompanied her hoisted him up off the floor, almost strangling him several times, his elbow protested and he had to bite his lip to prevent himself crying out. They deposited him roughly on the chair and he coughed, clearing his throat. They stood back, flanking Miss Sadie, standing either side of her like sentries. The taller of the two men lit a cigarette.
"Where's Robert?" he asked, interestedly, it seemed odd that the man wasn't here, then again maybe he was still in custody.
"Nevermind him, I'm the one doing the interrogating now." her left arm struck out and he flinched, thinking he was going to be hit, but instead she just held his jaw in a surprisingly punishing grasp. "I don't want to hurt you Alex, I'm not like my colleague, so I'd appreciate it if you cooperated nicely."
Alex pulled an expression of deep thought, if he could have put his hand to his chin he would have, "I can't really see that happening." he said dryly "can you?"
This time when she lashed out, she really did hit him. His head would have cracked to the side if she hadn't been holding his jaw in such a powerful grip. It made it hurt even more. She was surprisingly strong.
"I said I don't want to hurt you," she said, squeezing his jaw, "but if I have to, I will. Are we clear?"
His cheek was smarting and her hand was preventing him from opening his mouth very far. "As day." he forced out.
"Good." Miss Sadie said, releasing his chin and leaning back, "now who is the head of the special operations division of MI6?"
Alex thought about spitting in her face, but then he decided that he didn't really care if someone knew who Blunt was, if they had an issue with the man, then it was probably well-founded.
"Alan Blunt." he said simply.
She raised an over plucked eyebrow. "Is that so? And who is his deputy?"
Alex thought about it, and then said, "I don't know that I'm afraid."
"You don't know?" she asked incredulously.
"If I did, I'd tell you." he tried to look scared and sincere, "I only ever met Mr Blunt. He assigned my missions."
Miss Sadie looked at him calculatingly, "I'll believe you for now. Tell me, is this Alan Blunt married?"
Alex would have shrugged if he could. "I don't know," he said again, "I asked him once but he didn't tell me."
He had in fact asked Blunt if he was married when he was being taken to the COBRA meeting about Invisible Sword and the man had been secretive about his personal life. He remembered however, that Mrs Jones had mentioned something about him travelling with his wife around Europe. He didn't know if it was true, but if it was, he didn't want to put some unsuspecting woman in needless danger.
"You don't know a lot, do you Alex?" Miss Sadie asked patronisingly, "I think you might be lying to me."
"Well, I wouldn't think too much, I'm not sure your brain is ready for such a big change."
It wasn't Miss Sadie who hit him this time but the shorter of the other two men who had, until now stood like bodyguards on either side of her. The punch was aimed for his solar plexus but Alex managed to twist so his stomach took to the full force of the blow instead. It winded him but he knew it was the better place to be hit. The power behind the punch pushed him out of the chair and onto the floor. Without his arms to break the fall, he landed on his chest, and if the punch hadn't winded him, this certainly had. The fall was made worse by the fact that his hands had instinctively tried to come up to protect himself and he had inadvertently pulled on the rope which was looped round his neck. For several seconds until he realised what he had to do to prevent him from throttling himself, he lay there on the ground unable to breathe, his hurt elbow screaming at him.
He heard rather than saw the guard step over him, the man's heavy boots sounding in his ears, then suddenly he was being pulled up and backward by the connecting rope, his spine curving uncomfortably, the breath he had only just managed to get back taken away. The guards hand that wasn't holding the rope came up to rest in his hair.
"You think you're so clever don't you?" The nameless man crooned in his ear, "Little brat." he spat the last word, petting his hair roughly, "Poor Alex Rider who plays at being a hero, a pocket-sized spy, well you can stop the act, boy. You've murdered people in cold blood, and you know what you get for it? Praise! You're no better than us so you can stop acting like it!" Black spots were appearing in Alex's vision and he knew that he wouldn't last much longer.
He released the rope and his hair at the same time and Alex fell forward again, managing to twist so he landed on his good arm, sucking in great gulps of air thankfully. His face felt warm and his neck felt like it was on fire where the coarse rope had cut into it. He heard the door swing open, felt the vibrations of the three of them leaving and then heard a key turn in the lock. He lay on the floor, chest heaving as his lungs searched for oxygen. He didn't even think about moving.
It was about ten minutes later before he felt up to sitting up. He pushed himself into a seated position using a combination of the steel chair and his - what he suspected was - broken elbow. He needed to get out of here. If Anatolievich tried a rescue attempt, and Alex suspected he would, the man would soon find out that Alex wasn't David Friend's son. His best chance was to escape, make his way back to Anatolievich's house and say he'd been kidnapped by some people wanting revenge on his father. Now, he only had to get out of here.
He looked around, though for what he wasn't sure. Nothing in the room had been altered since they had entered, apart from the fact that the steel chair had moved a few inches. And then he saw it, the cigarette the taller man had been smoking. Alex glanced at the camera in the corner of the room. It looked old and was dusty but he couldn't take the chance that it wasn't working. He had to keep what he was doing out of sight.
He crawled over to the cigarette, trying to make it look like he was attempting to get more comfortable. As he moved he tried not to pull on the rope too much, his neck was still sore and felt like it might be bleeding. He examined the cigarette; the guard hadn't had time to smoke it all and it was only about half finished. Alex maneuvered himself around and picked it up with his fingers, pointing the lit end up toward the rope. It was already fraying and after about a minute, he felt the first loop snap in half. Five minutes later his hands were free. He kept them behind his back in case they were watching him through the camera.
His hands were free, the rope around his neck was annoying but no longer pulling, but his legs were still bound. It wouldn't do much good if he could get out of the cell, he would never be able to hop out quick enough. The knots were tied too tightly for him to even think about simply undoing them. Even if he had nails he wouldn't be able to. He looked around the room again and eventually decided on a plan. Once he had begun, he would have to work extremely quickly. He took a deep breath, and decided he may as well start now, there was no point in waiting. He kicked the chair so it was pointing towards the camera and pulled himself up onto it with a great effort. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back so as to not arouse suspicion which meant he had to wiggle around a lot, aggravating his left arm. Finally he was seated on the chair, legs folded into his body so he was curled in a ball. Now he had to move quickly, once his hands were revealed, they were sure to send someone in to stop his escape attempt.
He twisted, gripped the back of the chair and stood, wobbling a little. He wrenched the rope from around his neck and worked as quickly as he could with his left arm out of action. Seconds later he held a small lasso in his hands. He almost grinned at what he was about to do. The ceiling was too high to reach just with the chair, if he had been half a foot taller maybe he would have managed it. He swung the lasso round like he had seen them do in old western films and then cast it off, aiming for the lightbulb. The first time he missed. He tried not to be too disheartened and knew he had to try again. On his second try, he managed it, the rope had circled around the bulb and tightened. Bracing himself, Alex pulled hard and with a small smashing sound, the glass bulb shattered. As soon as he had broken it, Alex covered his face with his hand, ducking.
He was lucky however; none of the glass seemed to have hit him and he jumped down off the chair to grab the biggest shard he could find. Most of the bulb had scattered into tiny pieces no bigger than a fingernail but several pieces were bigger and he sorted through them. As soon as he'd found a sharp enough piece, he began to saw at the rope tying his ankles together. And then he heard it, the sound of shouting and running feet. He moved the sharp edge over the bonds more quickly and the first loop snapped. Alex heard the key in the door. He'd never make it, he'd only made the bonds a little looser. But that was all he needed. He slipped off his shoes and socks, pointed his feet and slipped them out of the rope just as the door opened. The two men who had accompanied Miss Sadie earlier were framed in the light from the hallway, and they were joined by the third fake paramedic from Lincoln High.
He fell back into a defensive stance, then immediately wished he hadn't. He'd stood in some of the small shards of bulb. There was no way he could fight these three on his own. None of them seemed to be armed, but he was injured with a foot full of glass, a broken elbow and had the disadvantage of being at least a foot smaller than all three of them. But his build could also be an advantage, he imagined Ian Rider telling him, it would make him quicker and more agile. Alex didn't know about that, but he had no option but to try. As soon as the first guard moved forward, Alex lashed out, sending his fist into the man's solar plexus where he had tried to hit Alex earlier. The guard howled in pain. The blow itself hadn't been that powerful, but the shard of glass that had been in Alex's hand had buried itself deep into his flesh. The man had doubled over, clutching the wound and Alex seized the opportunity, bringing his knee up to the guard's jaw, knocking him out. He fell to the floor.
Alex cried out as the man fell. To knock the man out, he'd had to put all his weight on his right foot, the one filled with glass. The action had driven the shards deeper into it. The second man, the one who had been smoking moved forward cautiously. He adopted a stance that Alex recognised from Karate a Kiba-dachi or horse stance. Immediately an idea came to mind, a move that would allow him to put weight on his bad foot for only a second. He was mad to even try it, but he had no choice. He too moved into a fighting stance, but instead of raising his arms in front of himself, he moved them up and out to the side in a V formation above his head. He lifted his bad leg and bent his left. The guard moved closer to him and he struck, jumping upward, shifting the weight onto his right foot for a second, kicking out at the guard's face with his left. The foot connected and the man staggered backwards, falling over his unconscious companion and with a sickening thud, the back of his head connected with the wall. He slid down it, joining his friend on the floor.
Alex almost laughed. The move had been a stupid idea from a famous film, The Karate Kid, the illegal crane kick which was used in the final. He couldn't believe it had worked. The third man Alex didn't know came forward with apprehension. Alex was breathing heavily and his chest was burning, his skin warm, he didn't know why, perhaps it was the adrenaline. The third guard threw a straight punch at Alex's head and he dodged around it, blocking it with his right forearm. He took hold of it and dragged the man's arm down, taking the body with it and bringing his knee up to the man's chest, once again putting pressure on his injured foot. The man was quick however and twisted out of Alex's grasp like a snake, avoiding his knee. In retaliation he grabbed Alex's broken left arm and pulled it into a half nelson behind his back. Alex let out a scream of pain and tried to wriggle out of it but the guard was much too strong. He kicked out with his feet and his right foot hit something cold and solid. The steel chair.
Behind him, the man had taken out a radio.
"I've got the kid, the little bastard knocked Murph and Toby out but I've got him. He-"
The guard didn't get much further. Alex had taken the distraction of the radio and used it to his advantage. He'd gripped the back of the steel chair and swung it up and over as hard as he could at the man behind him. The chair hit the guard on the temple, but didn't knock him out. Alex didn't let him have time to recover before bending down, scooping the cigarette butt off the floor and pressing it into the exposed skin of the man's forearm. The guard in front of him clutched the place where Alex had burnt him with his opposite hand and Alex dealt him the final blow. A knockout punch between the man's chin and ear. It was clumsily executed and Alex knew that his Sensei would have had a fit if he saw him punch like that, but he had no other choice. Suddenly, everything was warm, he was overheating, his chest hurt like he was being waterboarded and he coughed loudly. Now the adrenaline was fading, he was feeling ill. He staggered to the doorway, his eyes watering. Why did he feel this ill? Had they filled the room with a colourless toxin? Was it from the blood loss from his neck, wrists and foot? Or maybe it was the pain in his elbow. He was in no condition to escape now, he could barely see as he tried to move down the corridor away from the room he'd been held in.
He fell to the floor just as he saw Miss Sadie and Robert heading down the corridor toward him. He tried to move away, lashing out at them helplessly but he was in no condition to fight now. He felt tears make their way down his cheeks and he felt the tell tale signs of unconsciousness setting in. He was awake long enough to hear Miss Sadie say one word, but one word was all he needed to realise that he'd been lied to all this time.
"Withdrawal."
So, that update was much quicker than the last (yay). See, the coronavirus is good for some things?
Hopefully y'all understand what's happening now if you didn't before, but obviously Alex is gonna do the mental maths and put 2 and 2 together in the next chapter anyway if you don't.
I'm not gonna lie to you I forgot how much I love writing fight scenes. They're just the best and I'll probably try and throw more in even when they're not really necessary.
There was a fair amount of whamgst in this chapter and…yeah…there's gonna be more. What can I say I love hurting characters. Also I've set myself up for a name which is also a pun, but I don't know when I'll get to reveal it. I'll sneak it in somewhere I'm sure.
Also guys, I ate roast chicken and stuffing crips on Wednesday (It is now Friday at 2:20am here) and I've had two showers, washed my hands so many times I've lost count and my hands still smell of them. Ngl I am loving it.
Some of the cell scene is kinda taken and adapted from the anime and manga Banana Fish, if you haven't watched then, go watch it dummy, it's amazing and the ending will make you question if happiness even exists anymore so, go watch it. (I know it sounds like its got a stupid name and it does, but there's a reason which makes sense behind it) there are no fish shaped bananas or banana shaped fish.
I hope you enjoyed! I know it switches POV a lot and I'm sorry, but I wanted to get it all in this one. Please comment cause they give me life and happiness and tingles.
Hope you enjoyed!
I have three key ideas for the next chapter and I'm very very excited to write them which means (yay, they're interesting) Toodles!
