Chapter 2 please R n R!

Alex Rider woke up to a bare, white washed room. He lay in a stiff cot that hung on rusted chains from a water-stained ceiling. The cot itself had a touch of dampness and, what he believed to have once been a white mattress was now turning an odd shade of yellow. Alex gingerly sniffed the air surrounding the cot before recoiling sharply in disgust. A Fowl waft of odor assaulted Alex's nose in strong waves as he sprung off the bed in reflex. His shoe-less feet made a soft patter as they landed on a metal floor. The ground was ice cold, and vaguely reminded him of his last mission.

Alex slammed his fist angrily onto the wall. The echo of vibrating metal rung his ears as the sound rebounded off the walls. He realized for the first time since waking up, that he is in a prison cell. One heavy metal door that he had failed to notice earlier stood alone in the opposite corner. He paused, and listened. As the faint remains of the ringing metal slowly died, all he heard was his own soft breath.

Alex dropped to the floor in hopeless frustration. All he could do now was wait.

Three hours later, the metal door banged open and in stepped Wolf. He was back in uniform and once again wore his old look of cool confidence. Alex shot up off the ground in uncontrolled anger.

"What is this?' he yelled. His words resounded throughout the room, giving them more power than he intended. "Why the hell am I here?"

Wolf remained still and neutral, a credit to his training, while most others would cringe at the intensity of the boy's words. "Alex. You are needed," was all he said. He walked up to Alex and grabbed a firm hold of his upper arm. Wolf steered an angry and struggled Alex out of the cell and down a maze of hallways. After a few minutes, Alex gave up his fight. Wolf was too strong. They approached an all too familiar door and Alex had to suppress heaving a groan. A single silver plaque was mounted at eye level, reading Alan Blunt in bold, black letters. Wolf gave a quick twist of the handle, pushed open the door and thrust the boy in.

Alan Blunt was seated in a typical grey revolving office chair. His impeccably clean and polished black shoes were perched atop an expensive wooden desk. Numerous stacks of papers littered his desk, along with post-it notes, pens, pictures of C/O's and files. He wore the same grey and black striped tie with the same grey pants and, most likely, the same grey jacket. One could only hope that his white shirt was not the same.

Blunt, apparently obvious to the entrance of the two men, lazily twirled a pair of brown-rimed glasses, his eyes unfocused, staring blankly into space.

Wolf coughed lightly. Alan Blunt slowly turned around, his gaze suddenly snapping back into the present. The dull, lifeless eyes of an overworked, middle age man shifted from a young, distraught looking teen to a clam and passive officer.

"Ah, Alex Rider. Teenage spy prodigy. How kind of you to join us," said Blunt in a bored voice.

Alex looked ready to retort with a nasty comment, but held back, waiting to hear just what this man had to say.

Dull, grey eyes peered at him, seemly searching for something that wasn't there.

"Nothing?" Blunt asked. "Ah, well, all he better. You're probably wondering why you're here. I'm going to be straight with you, Alex. We need your help."

Alex stared at him as if he were a homeless drunk that had just asked for a job. "You're asking for my help?" he said incredulously. "My help? You kidnap me and lock me in a cell and now you're asking for my help?" Anger coursed through his veins like poison. It burned every inch of his body from the scalp of his head to the tips of his toes. He felt his face flush with anger.

Alan gave as short, humorless bark of laughter. "You're right. See, this is why we like you. You're a sharp boy. No, we aren't asking for your help. Let me rephrase that. We need your services and we will get them. The fate of the world is at stake again. You've saved the world more than anyone else so we're assuming you can do it again."

Alex snorted in attempt to dismiss his own anger before he did something rash. "Well, you assumed wrong."

"No, Alex. We did not. You might fail, but you have a better chance than anyone else, from any agency."

Alex glanced behind him at Wolf. He stood in proper but relaxed stance; his feet spread with his hands clasped behind his back. Wolf did not acknowledge his gaze, but stared fixedly at Blunt. For a second, Alex could have sworn a small smile tugged at the corner of his face, but it was gone before he could even blink.

"What about Wolf?" he spat the name out like a curse word. "Mr. Perfect here can do it. He's more qualified than me, I can't see why not." A sneer crossed his face. "Unless this is a mission that most likely will have no return."

For a moment, Alan blunt, the master of no emotions, looked uncomfortable. In that second, all of his fears were confirmed. Alex's eyes widened in horror. They couldn't do this to him. There was no way, as heartless as these people were, they wouldn't, no, couldn't send him in on a no return mission.

"N-No," he stuttered. "No. You can't do this." He backed up straight into Wolf who was now looking at him, wearing a look of pain. "Where's Mrs. Jones." No one answered. "Where is she!" he screamed into the quiet room.

"I'm sorry Alex, but she had to be let go for unfortunate reasons."

Alex's horror grew as realization dawned on him. "You fired her? You did, didn't you. Just because she didnt like what you were going to do".

" Wolf take care of our little guest he" said and walked out of the room.