The End of Alex Rider
Okay, you guys have once again earned your chapter for this story. Please enjoy!
This next chapter will introduce our main villain of the story. I know my last chapter wasn't all that great and I hope this one makes up for it with some action. I'm still working out a lot of the plot, which explains the huge hiatus from this story, but I got a few major points figured out. The whole chapter will focus on a prison break of a mysterious new enemy. I hope you all like it.
Chapter Three:
Pain
The Mediterranean Sea was always known for shipping, tourists, and even border lines between Europe, Africa and Asia. But it was also known for one other thing. Prisons. Even during the Roman Empire, islands were used to hold criminals and civilians. Ranging from deadly killers to anyone who dared to stand up against the rich and powerful. The idea was passed on to the French, then to the British, and even to the Italians. And now, government agencies and organizations were doing the same.
Just off the coast of Spain, about 50 miles, an island, known by the codename Purgatory, served as a prison for only one inmate. The island was small and very hard to spot. It was the reason why the British bought it from the Spanish and then turned over to MI6. Officially, it doesn't even exist. Only one mile wide, a concrete wall going around the lines of the island itself, a facility, and at the center... a holding cell.
The prisoner being held had no identity and no past to speak of. Even the guards were curious as to who was being held on the island and what he did that got him a private cell for himself. The only thing anyone knew was that MI6 wanted him contained and interrogated every day. The questions being asked were also unknown to everyone, except for the Interrogator.
The cell was dark and had no windows. The door was made out of steel and had a time lock, never opening except in the morning and at night. The prisoner had shackles around his feet and wrists. Only allowed to move a couple of feet. There was a tray always in front of him, with food that was soft and not that tasteful, not to mention the water was a little dirty too. The bathroom was... complicated. Since it was right behind him. The only good thing about the cell was that it was large. But only to allow the Interrogator room to do his job.
The prisoner wore a nearly colorless orange outfit, like the ones on prison shows, except more dirty and lifeless. He also had a long beard and hair that nearly reached his chest. He sat on the cold, concrete ground, legs crisscrossed, eyes closed. He didn't have a bed of any kind. But he didn't need one.
Suddenly, there was a loud noise and the door opened, revealing a hallway that almost looked like a hospital. A man walked past two guards and carried with him a large box. He looked behind him as the door closed and the same loud noise sounded again. Looking back at the prisoner, he put the box down and took out a large metal stick. Pressing a red button, electricity sparked at the top.
Even at the moment, the prisoner didn't move or open his eyes. He knew the drill. The door opens, the Interrogator comes in and does his thing, nighttime comes and he leaves, which is where his mealtime is served. It was the same routine that has been done for the last twenty years.
The Interrogator kicked the tray aside and pressed the stick into the prisoner's left side. Letting out a small moan he fell to the ground, almost tasting the concrete. He could feel the electricity running through his body. After a few second, the Interrogator backed away and went straight for his metal box that was on the floor.
The prisoner didn't reply. In fact, he didn't said one word since being imprisoned on this island twenty years ago. Even during the torture he endured he never let out a word or a beg of mercy. He may have moaned in pain, but that was inevitable.
The Interrogator had ways of inflicting pain on people without making them bleed or suffer internal or external injuries that may require medical assistance. The people who built the prison were to smart for that. The rules were that if the prisoner had suffered any pain that may cause death, then he was to be left to die. He was never to leave the room and never to see anyone else besides the Interrogator. And even he knew the rules as well. If he was captured by the prisoner or killed, there would be no rescue or reclaiming his body. The island and cell were meant to be the prisoner's grave no matter what.
The Interrogator put his electrified stick down and opened the box, taking out a bottle of some kind of chemical and also a syringe. After filling the syringe up and closing the box, he turned back to the prisoner, who managed to sit back up to where he originally started.
"You know, I actually respect a man like you. For the last twenty years you have never once said a word and never once broke under my methods. Sure, you may have done some horrible things. Some even consider you worse than Yassen Gregorovich. But a man who can control himself and endure hell itself, that is a man I can respect. I've interrogated lots of men in my lifetime, all of them disappointments. But you... You're something else."
The prisoner just stared at the ground and closed his eyes again, waiting for what was to come next.
Picking up the electrified stick again, the Interrogator went forward and pressed it into the rib cage of the prisoner, making him fall backwards and hit the wall. He then injected him with the syringe, forcing the chemical to go into his body and through his system.
The prisoner could feel the chemical doing its work, his body burning up in an imaginary fire that felt so real. His organs felt like they were going to burst. The pain was excruciating.
"Now," the Interrogator began. "What was your mission?"
The sun started to settle over the ocean, disappearing over the horizon. The guards at the wall stood were sharing cigarettes and war stories. They used to take the job seriously, but at years, even decades, of patrolling the wall, they had become lazy and relaxed. To them, they saw no reason to guard someone that no one knew existed or even has tried to rescue. Their only concern was keeping the prisoner in.
However, due to the sun's bright sunset and the guards' laziness to pay attention, the scuba divers just a couple miles away from the prison were able to swim their way to the island and began climbing the wall with their special gadget gear. There were six of them, all carrying handguns, equipped with silencers, dressed in military upgraded black suits. They quickly and stealthily made their way over the wall and split up into two teams. One headed straight for the holding cell and the other towards the command center. Guards went down, one by one.
Team one headed down a series of stairs, coming to a hallway, where they made way to the command center. Two guards suddenly appeared around the corner, but just has they saw the three armed intruders and went for their simi-automatics, they just as quickly fell to the floor, dead. Arriving at the double doors of the command center, they took their positions and planted a charge on the doors.
Team two made their way to the holding cell, which was guarded by a security wall, one that couldn't be broken through without something more powerful than C4 or some charge. A large metal door stood in their way, which would lead down a straight-forward hallway towards the holding cell of the prisoner. They needed team one to shut down the electricity to the whole station, allowing them to get through the door. One of the three shot the two guards at the door and took their positions.
Team one blew the charge and quickly made their way inside, shooting anyone in the room. While one went straight for the computer and began shutting down the power grid, the other two stood watch. Within minutes, the entire system began shutting down, and they made their way to regroup with the others.
Once the lights went out, team two activated their night vision and opened the door, they ran down the hallway and shot the other two guards right by the metal door. Just as they took their positions once more, team one regrouped with them.
But they still had one problem. The door to the holding cell had it's own source of electricity and also a time lock. There was still a couple of minutes before it would unlock. All they could do now was wait.
The prisoner could feel the pain receding. He knew that the Interrogator was finally giving up for the day, to recharge and come back in the morning. A repeated process that shall go on and on.
The Interrogator packed up his stuff and turned his back on the prisoner, waiting for the doors to open at any minute.
"You know there is no shame in giving up," he said to the prisoner. "You've earned my respect. But there is no reason to keep going on like this. I can't promise you a release from this prison. You've earned your place here. But if you tell me what your mission was all those years ago, I can give you a quick, painless death. A way out from this hellhole. I can blame the drugs I've given you. That your body couldn't take any more. Pain always manages to break everyone."
The prisoner didn't reply. He sat back up and crisscrossed his legs again, his eyes closed.
Suddenly, the lights within the room went off, then the emergency lights came on a few seconds later.
"What the hell?" the Interrogator said in confusion.
The prisoner's eyes quickly opened and a small smile formed.
"Yes, you're right. Everyone always breaks."
The Interrogator froze in his spot and slowly turned around to look at the prisoner. He thought he was going insane. But he knew that what he heard was real.
"Everyone does break eventually, but it's through that experience of being broken that one learns to repair himself back together and learns to endure the same pain once more. Everyone is always worried about physically pain, when it is the mental and emotional pain they should be worried about."
The Interrogator's mouth dropped in shock as he heard the words leave the prisoner's mouth. Two decades and he finally hears the man's voice for the first time.
"I've already been broken. My childhood is no happy memory, just a living hell. My teenage hood, spent in anger and rage, training to become something better. And my adulthood... spent on misery and pain. Even now as I grow older, I'm still learning to endure and love my pain. What you are trying to do is impossible. I've already been broken once, so I can't be broken again. You can't destroy one's self if it has already been destroyed."
The Interrogator got his act together and said, "Is that how you are going to escape from this prison? By expressing how you can endure pain?"
The prisoner smiled and looked up at him, and said, "No. By rescue mission."
Suddenly, the door clicked open and a large group of men came through, their guns aimed at the Interrogator. Two of the men ran towards the prisoner and unlocked his shackles with the keys they found in the command center.
Touching his wrists for the first time in years, the prisoner walked forward and faced the Interrogator.
"Now the tables have turned for you. In fact, the tables are going to turn very soon. In a way the world will not know. My mission may have been postponed twenty years ago, but I will be free now to fulfill it. I warned MI6 to kill me long ago. That by putting me in a prison like this would only ensure that one day I will have my vengeance and fulfill my duty."
The Interrogator's heart began to race.
"The time of heroes and spies is over now. It's a dawning of a new age. An age of peace and prosperity for all, even those who have fought so hard to get here."
"You will never win."
"That's where you are wrong. I will fulfill my mission and I will have my vengeance against the one who put me in this prison."
The Interrogator chuckled and said, "To late for that. The man who captured you has been dead for a long time now. In fact, almost as long as you have been in here."
"I know. When I was first imprisoned here, I overheard the guards at my door talking about the death of the MI6. I instantly recognized the name. And for a split second, I almost gave up hope of vengeance. Until I heard one last thing before the door closed on me." He paused and drew a breath, making a smile one more.
"Alex Rider."
The Interrogator felt fear run through his body as he said the name. Like almost everyone else at MI6, everyone knew the name Alex Rider, the son of John Rider, MI6's greatest spy.
"I may not be able to kill John myself, but I will kill his son as an act of vengeance. It's the end of a family legacy. The end of Alex Rider!"
Without warning, the prisoner grabbed the Interrogator and spun him around, putting him in a choke hold and quickly twisting his neck until there was a very uncomfortable breaking noise. The metal box fell to the floor and so did the Interrogator's body. The prisoner showed no expression as he stared at the body.
They made their way back to the wall and jumped into the ocean, where the scuba diving equipment was waiting for them, including a spare for the prisoner.
The prisoner took every moment in. Enjoying the sunset, the stars appearing in the sky, the cold ocean water at his feet and body. He was enjoying freedom once more, after nearly two decades of hell.
They made their way back to the yacht that was waiting for them a couple miles out, where they made their way back to shore of Spain.
Okay, please tell me that I'm off to a good start. Please let me know how I'm doing. I really want to know! I hope I got the villain down good enough for this one chapter. We will see more of him in a later chapters. As for Alex, we won't be seeing what he's up to just yet. I want to keep him under wraps for the time being. We will see the plot unfold later on. That is if I get positive reviews about this story.
I still can't promise if I will continue this story, but I can promise a new chapter if I get good reception. But if you all don't like it, then I have no reason to continue. It's all on you.
As always, I apologize for any grammar errors, which I should look more into more often. I'm not the perfect writer in the world, although I'm not trying to be. I just love writing stories.
Which reminds me, all credit goes to Anthony Horowitz.
See you guys in the next chapter (maybe).