I'd just like to say thank you to everyone who reviewed! They were amazing, and I'm glad that some of you criticised my work; odd, I know, but it means that I have something to work on in later chapters, as well as it gives me ideas for future ones.

Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider. This disclaimer is a disclaimer for all further chapters that I post. I cba writing any other disclaimers, and because I have a rubbish memory, I'll more than likely forget to disclaim other chapters. And I'm rambling. Sorry.

Taboo language is again used in this chapter. I felt it was necessary to have in it. So nerr.

Also, I fear that you are not going to like this chapter. The first half of it, to me, is boring. When I was writing it, it bored me. I just couldn't think of another way to start the chapter, though, and also, this bit of information WILL BE NECESSARY FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER. To compensate for the boringness, though, I've wrote a bit more than I usually would as well as tried to get some action in FINALLY at the end.

Thanks to Bumpkin for some ideas on where this chapter, and consequently the next chapter will go.

Escape - Chapter 6.

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Passive Aggression: "having a personality disorder characterized by habitual passive resistance to demands for adequate performance in occupational or social situations, as by procrastination, stubbornness, sullenness, and inefficiency"

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"Do you have any communications with your men down underground, Jacobs?"

Staff Sergeant Anthony Jacobs was a serious man. After a tough childhood, Jacobs had joined the army straight out of secondary school at the age of 16. After spending four years in England's Territorial Army, or the TA, and progressing from a recruit to the post of Lance Corporal before upgrading to a Corporal in very quick succession, the army knew that Jacobs was special. At each ceremony that was given on the marching ground when he moved up the soldier ranks, Jacobs' face displayed no emotion.

At the age of 21, Jacobs was asked to transfer into the SAS as a Sergeant. He accepted, and got the job to look after 36 men, making sure they were disciplined, performed their tasks perfectly and had to make sure that their conduct was of the top quality. When Jacobs met with the WO1 Regimental Sergeant Major and the Lieutenant Colonel to accept the job, Jacobs' face was the epitome of stone.

Jacobs had no problem in keeping his men in line; the soldiers in the SAS were afraid of him. They knew that his punishments for disobeying him were awful, meaning they did whatever they could to keep out of the Sergeants bad books.

After 6 years in the SAS as a Sergeant, and training many men that went on to save many lives, as well as staying alive whilst doing so, Jacobs was then promoted to Staff Sergeant Anthony Jacobs. Instead of 36 men that he had to take care of, he now had to 'look after' 120 soldiers. He made their lives hell.

The soldiers referred to him as SS Jacobs. SS didn't stand for Staff Sergeant. Oh no. To the soldiers in his care, SS stood for Schutzstaffel, the most ruthless and evil men that had served Adolf Hitler during his reign of power. Not only that, but the SS were known for their help in Hitler's quick rise to power and were masterminds. Jacobs had certainly rose to power quickly, and was a mastermind when it came to plotting the enemies downfall.

So when Jacobs was called by MI:SO and asked for several of his units to track down a school boy who'd done a runner, Jacobs was pissed. His units were full of the best-trained men, all of whom had been trained to support armies in their missions, going into extremely dangerous situations and capturing enemies, and that was only what the public knew about. Their job description didn't include capturing a school boy.

Unfortunately, after 11 years in the army, it was practically instinctual to follow the orders of his superiors. Even if he was of high standing and didn't like those orders.

So Jacobs sent out many units of men for this school boy to many different locations. None of his men had seen the boy, and this made him even more pissed; they were wasting his and his soldiers time looking for the boy.

When news came to him about one of his units being stuck on a Euro-train, destined for France, Jacobs was no longer pissed. He was far, far past pissed. There wasn't even a word for what he was feeling.

He went straight to MI6 Headquarters, only to be told he had to wait until the Heads of the organisation where ready for him.

He became even angrier.

And yet, throughout it all, no emotion could be seen on his face. His eyes were still the same stone-cold that they had been since his youth.

When he was finally allowed to visit Mr Blunt, Jacobs didn't even get to say one word to the man before he was being questioned and reprimanded. Evidently, greetings weren't the norm at MI6 HQ.

"I'm guessing that your men didn't find Mr Rider? What a shame, don't you think Mrs Jones? Trained army men - the best, of course, couldn't even find a child," Blunt tutted and looked to Mrs Jones, a look of exasperation on his face, "and not only could they not find him, but they didn't even recognise him when they 'didn't find' him. And to think of how much money goes towards training those men," Blunt sighed, "such a waste."

Jacobs' mood went from beyond pissed and angry to beyond pissed, angry and confused. If his soldiers didn't find the boy, then how could they have not recognised him when they didn't even see him?

"I don't know what you mean, Mr Blunt. My men did not find the boy. If they had, then I am positive that they would have spotted him and took him into custody."

"Oh really? According to some… evidence, Mr Rider would have come into connect with at least three of your men, maybe more. And they didn't recognise him." Blunt's glare was a ferocious thing. But the Staff Sergeant had seen many a glare before, and had given plenty himself to not be intimidated by Blunt's own.

"My men did not spot the kid. They've done all that they could, even though it is not their job to go searching for some child. And because my men were off doing something not in their job title, I now have one Sergeant and two officers on their way to France!" Jacobs, after so many years of keeping his cool in so many different occasions, was finally losing it. He was angry; he was getting the blame for a job that his men shouldn't have been doing in the first place.

"Ah, yes. That is actually in our favour, Anthony." Blunt used the Staff Sergeants first name to show his power over the man; Blunt knew almost all there was to know about the soldier. He knew that not using the mans title was disrespecting him, and it was one of the things the soldier hated - Jacobs couldn't do anything about it though. MI6 were above him in the military ranks. "You see, that one Sergeant and two officers are actually on-board with Mr Rider." Blunt paused, letting that information sink into Anthony's mind. "So tell me, do you have any communications with your men down underground, Jacobs?"

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Of course things would be against Alex Rider. There wasn't really that many situations that he had been in of which anything did go right for him.

Alex and his new friend, Tony, had been on the school coach for just under 35 minutes when Alex had spotted the trapped soldiers returning to the carriage that Alex was in.

The one thing that Alex had going for him in that moment was that the coach had blacked out windows, meaning the soldiers couldn't see him inside of the coach. Alex, however, could see the goings on outside of the coach, and as such could see that the kids that were still sitting down were asked to stand up in a line once again.

He heard the footsteps of a soldier step onto the bus, before Lizard's head appeared above the rows of seats. He stopped walking after he reached the first row, and looked at the dozen or so children on-board.

"Alright. I've gotten orders to ask everybody to step off the coach and stand in a line," Lizard spoke in a dark tone, his hands in fists at his sides. When the passengers didn't move, Lizard started to shout, "That means get of the God damn coach! Now! Pronto! Stat! Get movin'!" With that, Lizard moved to the drivers seat and sat down, watching as everyone quickly scrambled to get off the bus. Tony and Alex let the others pass by them before standing up and moving towards the front, Alex shouldering his bag onto his back.

As Alex approached the on-board toilet, he thought of hiding in the there. However, looking at Lizard made Alex quickly stop that plan in its tracks as he noticed the soldier staring intently at him. There would be no chance for Alex to hide without the man seeing him.

Lizard continued to look at Alex, that same intense glare in his eyes. The blonde boy was a little freaked out over it, worried that the man knew who he really was. He knew that he should listen to the instinctual part of him that was worried and concerned, but blamed it on the fact that the soldier was angry over being stuck on the train on his way to France.

Just before Alex stepped off the coach, he turned on the hydraulic trainers so that his height grew. He moved to stand in a line with all of the others, curious as to why they were being told to get off the bus.

All three of the soldiers were glancing over the children, staring at the boys for much longer than the girls.

"Alright, listen up!" Lizard had gone to stand with the Shark and the Sergeant, the latter of which was now speaking, "Every male that is aged between 14 and 18, I want you to stand forward. Ladies, please stand away from them. If you wish, you may retreat back to your vehicle. Thank you."

Alex, like the other boys on the coach, stepped forward, before huddling closer to his peers around him, trying to make himself disappear.

The girls, teachers and coach driver stepped back, looking on with curious and bewildered eyes, wondering what was going on. The soldiers had told them that they were looking for illegal substances; they'd already been checked over and given the all-clear. What was going on?

Alex, and consequently Tony, knew what was happening. They were looking again for a 15 year old, blonde-haired boy who was around 5 foot 6 in height.

But this time, they'd be more careful.

Alex knew that something had gone wrong; he knew that the soldiers knew that he was in the Euro Tunnel with them. He didn't know how he knew it, but he did. Call it instincts.

And Alex also knew that he was going to be found this time around.

But knowing this information gave Alex another thing going for him. The soldiers hadn't actually found him yet, meaning Alex could prepare for the time when they did find him.

Lizard, Shark and the Sergeant all moved towards the boys that stood in a weird curved line, leaning forwards and giving them a long looking over. Any boy who's hair was obviously not blonde was told to stand with the girls and adults, and those with blonde hair and/or had dyed hair was told to stay put.

Tony, being a red-head, was told to stand with the girls and adults. Once with them, he watched the soldiers move about before settling his eyes on Alex who was told to 'stay put and don't bloody well move.'

After five minutes, Alex was standing amongst three other boys who fit his description. Another boy had originally been told to stay put too, but after realising he was less than 5 foot 3, they told him to move away.

Shark reached into his back pocket and took out a piece of photographic paper. Alex could guess that his face would be on it, and they where going to use it to match him to the photo.

After putting the picture next to the two boys to his right, both of whom had been given a dismissal, it was finally Alex's turn.

"We have a match!"

Shark had turned his head to look at the Sergeant when he'd made this statement in order to get the higher-ranked officer to come over and see for himself. As the man turned away, Alex struck out, first with a low kick to the soldier's right kneecap, before spinning to his side and elbowing the man in the stomach, forcing him to bend over as he crippled to the floor. Lifting his knee, Alex brought it up to meet Shark's chin as the man bowed down from the previous attack. Shark was unconscious before he even hit the ground on his back, a bang echoing out in the train twice as the mans back hit the floor first, followed by the back of his head.

The man wouldn't be up for quite a while.

One down. Two to go.

But now, the other two soldiers were wiser to his skills, and as such reacted the way that soldiers were trained to; release their guns from their holsters, and point the muzzle at the enemy. In this case, Alex was the enemy.

In the carriage, gasps had been heard whilst Alex had executed his attack on Shark, but now only silence reigned in the room, the passengers too stunned to make any noise.

One soldier down, bleeding from some head-wound, two other soldiers pointing guns at a child, and that same child was the one who gave the wounds to the first unconscious soldier. Not exactly something you'd see everyday.

"Hands in the air! Now!" The Sergeant was annoyed; one of his soldiers had just been beaten by a child. In front of members of the public. He wanted to shoot the kid, or at least hit him around the head with the butt of his gun, but he had orders, and as such he would do no such thing. The brat doesn't need to know that though.

Alex didn't put his hands in the air. He was too stubborn to listen to the mans demands, and didn't care whether the soldier decided to shoot him or not. Also, the 'brat' did indeed know that the soldier wouldn't shoot him; he knew that the mans orders would be to stop Alex from leaving the country, and whilst that had failed, his newest orders would more than likely to be along the lines of 'bring the boy back into the country. Alive'

Instead, Alex sneered in the direction of the two men left standing, two guns pointing at him. He pulled his bag from his back, opening the zip and plunging his hand inside. Always, Alex kept his eyes on the two men.

"I said hands in the air! Now!" The Sergeant repeated himself, frustration evident in his voice. He wouldn't put it past the boy to carry a gun with him, and with the way he was rummaging around in his bag looked like he was going to pull one out. The sooner the boys' hands where safely in the air with nothing in them, the better. For him. And Shark.

The Sergeant turned his eyes in the direction of Shark and nodded to him, a silent signal passing between them. Shark moved slowly towards Alex, wariness in his movements as the Sergeant stayed put, keeping his own gun trained on the boy. When there was just a metre separating Alex and the Shark, the man stopped. Alex watched him approach, his hand still rummaging in his bag, frantically searching for the damned heavy Harry Potter book that would be his escape route.

"Last warning. Get your fucking hands in the air. Now."

Not finding the book, Alex grabbed onto whatever his hand could grab before dropping the bag and, in a fluid motion, dropped what he had grabbed down his sleeve before putting his hands in the air, the item unseen by the soldiers.

Shark stepped forward, grabbing Alex's right hand and twisting it behind his back, before getting his left and doing the same. Not having hand-cuffs, Shark made do with just holding the boy.

But that was a mistake on his part - Alex managed to kick out at Shark's shins, making the man loosen his hold on him, and twisted his hands into the air, crossing them at the wrists in order to completely break free of Shark's hold on him.

Alex stepped back and kicked Shark in the stomach, forcing the man to slid backwards slightly toward the Sergeant, landing on his behind, and out of reach of Alex. Shark got back onto his feet and walked backwards towards the higher ranking man, watching Alex warily as if the boy was going to attack him again.

"For Gods sake, boy! We're trying to help you" The Sergeant was red in the face, anger at the boy for hitting another of his soldiers.

Alex laughed.

"Oh, right. Of course you are. You know, you're not trying to take me back to England and back to the bank, right? That's not your orders at all is it?" Sarcasm was heavy in Alex's tone.

The Sergeant couldn't say much in his predicament; there were cameras all over the carriage, not to mention many witnesses. If he spoke the words that he needed to say to the boy out loud, the cameras would allow any lip-reader to be able to pick up on what he was saying. Not to mention that if anyone on the train was questioned, they'd most likely tell of what the Sergeant said.

He decided that he needed to get closer to the boy, and whisper it into his ear.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you - no matter how much I want to. And believe me, I want to hurt you a lot. But I need to tell you something, and I can't do that with all of these people here," the Sergeant said, lowering his head and his voice so that only he and Alex could hear, keeping his mouth out of any camera's vision.

He moved closer to Alex after putting his gun back in its holster.

After stepping so that he could talk directly into Alex's ear, he bent forward to do so.

"Our orders have changed," the man whispered. "We've been told to tell you to fake knocking us out, then leg it into France as soon as you can. Go to Parc Saint-Pierre. Someone will be in contact with you there. Act now."

So, the chapter ends with another twist. Thanks to Bumpkin for the idea of it.

I know a few of you are going to question about how the soldiers and the Staff Sergeant communicated, and I'll tell you how:

When they initially built the tunnel way back when, they had to actually start building the tunnel from England AND from France, then meet up in the middle. Even one centimetre of not matching upness would mean that they would have to go back and start again. To avoid this, they had to constantly be talking to each other - both deep inside of the tunnel as well as outside of the tunnel. Therefore, they had communication devices between them somehow. I don't really remember how, but I do remember an oldish bloke in a yellow hard-hat talking into a walkie-talkie device when they were close to finishing the tunnel, and he was talking to someone outside of the tunnel. If, in the "olden days" they could communicate that way, I'm guessing they have more powerful ways now-a-days that they can communicate by.

This is a fact - I am a sad person, and I sometimes like to watch TV shows that show how things are built. One such British TV Programme called "Big Bigger Biggest" showed this. (Did you know that they had to use laser power to align everything? Strange, huh?)

Review, my prettys! Review!