Can I just say that firstly, I liked writing this chapter more than any other chapter that I've written so far? Is that odd? There's very little Alex in this - or at least not much of it being from Alex's POV, really, and yet I like this chapter more than the others?

I think my conscience is trying to tell me something… never having listened to my conscience before, I have no idea what it's telling me, so I'm just going to ignore it.

Alright, so this is a 'mini' chapter… even if it really isn't mini - I enjoyed this, so I wrote more than I thought I would.

Yes, I know that I said I wouldn't be posting for a while, and I won't be after this. It's April Fools day, though, and I noticed some other authors decided to update their stories because of it, so I decided I will, too.

Enjoy

Alan Blunt was truly an amazing man. His mind was so manipulative and scheming, he knew when he was a child he would go far.

His father was a soldier in the army, and as such, Alan was brought up to be very loyal to his country. By the time he was 27, he was one of he best operatives MI6 had ever had. Unfortunately, after an injury at 37, Alan was forced to quit being an active operative, and after he recovered, was asked to be deputy head of Military Intelligence. Wanting to save and protect his queen and country, Blunt agreed.

For just under 20 years, Blunt saw many spies coming and… going, never to return. He sent the men and women out into the world, telling them that what they were doing was the best thing they could ever do with their lives, protecting their family and friends from the dangers that others pose.

Never, ever, had he thought that he would be sending many men at his disposal to chase after a child. Admittedly, it was a child that was a weapon, but still, a child.

Blunt knew this child, though. Knew what made him tick, knew how to bend him to his will, and knew exactly how to bring Alex back into England's - and his - hands.

He knew that after Alex had spent time at Brecon Beacons shortly after his Uncle had died, he would never trust a soldier's word unless he knew that they were definitely on his side. And even then, he would treat their words with caution, and often disobey any orders they may give him. So when Staff Sergeant Anthony Jacobs had men stuck down in a tunnel, trapped with Alex Rider, the child legend in the spy world, Blunt didn't have to really think much to create a plan to get Rider back into his control.

Firstly was to get Jacobs to feel guilty and into a sort of debt with him. That was easily done, telling him how he failed in his mission to stop the boy from leaving the country. Then, it was to get Jacobs to feel as if he was on his side, and only want to protect the boy - after all, he was a mere child alone in the world, going into the unknown. Again, easily done. Then, it was to anger the man - pushing on the point that it was his fault, it was his men that had failed. And finally, it was to get Jacobs to want to prove himself; again, easily done. Blunt knew that Jacobs had communication with his soldiers down underground; by asking of the man whether or not he had communication with them, and allowing Jacobs to say yes, gave him some sense of pride in that he had done something right.

Jacobs had told him "Yes, sir. My men and I are in constant communication."

Blunt smiled at the man, linking his fingers together on the desk, "excellent. That's excellent. I want you to tell the Sergeant, and him only, that there has been a change of plans. I want you to tell him that Mr Rider must go to Parc Saint-Pierre. Help is there for him; as of what help, I'm afraid we cannot divulge that information to you. Just make sure that you pass the message along, won't you?"

It was a clear dismissal to Jacobs; he stood, saluted - albeit a bit too stiffly - and turned a bout, striding forwards, his right arm lifting as his left foot moved forwards, marching towards the door. Outside, Jacobs kept up his hard face, striding down to the lower floors to open communications between his men and himself.

And for the first time since Alex Rider had decided to take off without his permission, Alan Blunt really allowed himself to smile, for just a second, knowing that the boy would be in his hands within a day. He knew that Alex's curiosity would win out in the end, and he would go to Parc Saint-Pierre, even if he told himself he wouldn't. It wasn't in Alex's blood to miss out on something like that.

Excellent.

******

James Sprintz

Bored.

Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.

Bored.

James Sprintz wasn't a very happy boy at the moment. He was being subjected to his father's attempt at teaching him the ways of the Sprintz's business; including a meeting with a bunch of old men in grey suits that looked like death itself.

That's right. His father had took him with him to a board meeting, to teach him, his irresponsible, childish, unlearning son how to do business.

At 9o'clock, James was ready to punch something… or maybe punch wasn't the right word… James was ready to fall asleep on something - namely the desk in front of him. Yes, that was better.

James was sat in a board meeting with his fathers colleagues from the U.K at 9o'clock at night in France, because apparently the U.K men weren't willing to travel to Austria, even though his father paid them to go, and instead asked that they meet in France, halfway between the U.K and Austria… roughly. Despite his father elbowing him to 'sit up straight' all of the time, James was slouched in his seat, head back with a crick in his neck.

Really, though, when his father had told him that he wanted James along to 'teach him the ways of the business,' James knew that he was talking bullshit. Really, Mr Sprintz just wanted his son along so that he could keep a watchful eye on him. James was a well-known trouble maker, and as such, he didn't want to leave the country knowing that his son was not being looked after other than the cleaner, cook, sitter, gardener and security team. James would escape them within minutes of his leaving. No, it was better for his son to be with him. In the end, it may be worth it; his son may become interested in his business, and as such it would be protecting his assets as he would be leaving them to, then, a worthy heir.

He should have known better, though. James didn't care about business and the goings on within his own fathers. In fact, this boring meeting, which had run since noon - noon! - was pushing him farther away from wanting to take over the business than his father could have believed. The damn recession had affected his U.K's stores, and as such, the emergency meeting was taking more time than it should have done to be finished. They needed to come up with a plan - and they needed one now if they were going to survive - not to mention creating profit.

When a break was announced shortly after 9, James was one of the first out the doors. Going down to the cafeteria, James turned his nose up to their food, and instead decided he was going out to buy some real food. Chocolate bars and crisps - exactly what the doctor ordered. He phoned his father, knowing that his mobile would be off, telling him that he was out looking for some proper food.

Walking out of the doors of Place Média, - the place of which the meeting was held - James turned right onto the main road of Boulevared Jacquard, and walking, looking for any open shop that he could find. Walking for ten minutes, James' feet were starting to hurt, and he wanted a place to rest.

Continuing onwards, James soon came to some sort of park, and decided to go in and hope to find a bench to sit down on and rest his feet. Stumbling around, James couldn't find a bench, which really annoyed him - his feet where hurting, and he needed a bench now. Hearing the gurgling of water, James walked towards it and found a fountain. A seat.

Unknowingly to him, he entered opposite the side that Alex had, as well as in the opposite direction of where Alex was currently hiding in his tree.

Looking down at his phone, James checked the time; half 9. Looking around, James noticed for the first time that the Parc was silent - empty. It was a curious thing; it was only half 9 - why weren't people still walking about or walking their pets? Did French people not do these things?

Of course, although James was the son of a rich man, he wasn't exactly privy to the goings on of the SAS that was stationed in France for two weeks, learning the routes, language and leadership within the country. And he didn't exactly know that the SAS had cleared the Parc, ready for the capture of Alec Trider, an escaped prisoner of MI6, the son of a madman they had stopped a few months previously.

But when James heard the running feet of several men, heavy footsteps falling against the gravel, James knew that something was going down.

Being a rich kid, James thought it was some of his fathers goons, coming to take him back to the stupid board meeting. Panicking, James looked around him, seeing trees on his right. Running to them, James hid behind one of the trees, peeking out to see the polished black boots of someone he couldn't see - branches were in the way.

Sending his father a text of "Y Parc?" James silently seethed behind his hiding spot, wishing for the moment he could rid himself of his father and be a free man, travelling the world and never par-taking in anything to do with business, board meetings or waking up past one in the afternoon.

Mr Sprintz

My son was an idiot. A fool. An irresponsible, annoying, trouble-making, why-me-god foolish idiot.

I'd hoped that my son would want to learn more from the meeting with my U.K managers. I'd hoped that he would be able to see that money doesn't fall out of trees, and that he would have to work to earn money - the harder he worked, the more he'd earn, the more holidays and cars he would be able to buy.

But after a measly hour of working and coming up with problems for my stores in England, my son was slouched in his chair, obviously wanting to be anywhere but here.

After nine hours, I must admit that I was tired of this, too. Nine hours was simply too long, but if he wanted new games, holidays and the latest gadgets, well, my business was going to have to do well, and as such, it meant that these meetings were important.

I called a break, and watched as my son ran out of the room, relief in his eyes. I knew that he wasn't enjoying this, but life isn't like that. To get the best stuff, you've got to work for it. Life is tough - deal with it.

When my men came back into the meeting room, I noticed that James was not there. I assumed he was in the cafeteria, or looking around the place, and really, I didn't want to subject my son to any more of this.

An hour later, when the meeting broke up, my business partners had a plan, and hopefully it would mean that more stores survive and continue to create profit for my back pocket.

I turned my phone on, immediately seeing that my son had sent me a text message "Y Parc." Kids these days, can't even spell, and nor do they make sense. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes and called to Petar, my guard, driver and friend to go looking for my boy at the 'Parc'; I would only be downstairs in my room, and guards are already in place there. He nods to me, and turns around, walking down the stairs and out the doors, getting in the car and drives off in search of my lazy son, who can walk off, but needs a ride back.

Mr Sprintz wasn't much of a technology guy, and as such, he missed his sons first missed call, not knowing what that image at the top of his mobile meant, and so didn't understand that his son had went out for food, not for a walk in the park.

James Sprintz

When the men finally came into view, James didn't expect to see men in black uniform, trying to be as quiet as possible yet not succeeding. Guns strapped to their backs and hips, thighs and calves, James knew that they were one of two things; soldiers, or assassins. Seeing as the men were in a group, and still had that soldier look about them - short hair, slightly marching - James guessed the former.

Understanding that the men weren't his fathers guards coming to take him back to the meeting, James watched them move from his hiding spot behind a tree.

His eyes trained on the men, James noticed out of the corner of his eye a small movement in the trees, leaves shaking as something moved. Reflexively, his eyes moved from the men to the trees, waiting for more movement to happen.

What James didn't expect was more an arm carrying what looked like a very large brick to emerge, pointed straight at the men in black. Confused, he watched as the top of the arm, shoulders, half of a face and part of a body learnt forward out of the trees, the brick still clutched in the bodies - a males' body - arm.

None of the soldiers had noticed the movement as each of them were faced away from him, bodies facing forward.

With no sound to indicate that anything had happened, one of the soldiers in the middle fell forwards, a short cry falling from his lips, and did not get up.

The soldiers in front and behind of their comrade jumped, eyes wide as they reached for their guns at their hips, looking around frantically in every direction for whatever had knocked out their fellow soldier.

Orders were shouted from a tall man in the front, telling the others to stay on their guard and for two of them to pick up "Whale" and take him back to the trucks and informing the "bosses."

Whilst James had been watching the goings on of the soldiers, shocked and amused - come on, admit it, a soldier being knocked unconscious by thin air? Funny stuff - the body in the tree had moved to another place and two more soldiers fell.

James heard a yell of "shit!" as another man fell, and, noticing that the fallen soldier lay on their front, knew that the culprit was behind them. They kept their guns pointed in that direction, waiting for a noise to discern what exact direction they were in.

James, being far away from the body in the tree, didn't hear the noise that came from the tree as something happened, but within seconds, flies, bugs and all sorts of insects came to the tree that James had seen the boy in and the soldiers. He could hear them yelling and screaming, and so again didn't hear the rustle that the body made as the male climbed down from the trees on the other side of the men, but the soldiers sure did. They moved their heads and guns in his direction, trying to ignore the insects surrounding them, but couldn't see much due to the masses that flew around them so didn't spot the boy running away, heading towards where James stood, gaping.

James saw him, though, and noticed the male was a boy, around his age with longish black and blonde hair, that looked faintly familiar to him.

One of the soldiers saw the boy, and shouted, pointing in his direction. His comrades looked, too, and started to follow the boy.

Noticing that he needed help, and caring that he really shouldn't have done it - after all, the boy could be extremely dangerous and may kill him later on - James moved from his hiding spot, waving his arms and gesturing for the blonde boy to come to him.

A look of incredulity in his eyes, the boy did indeed run towards James, and together they ran for the gates of the Parc, not asking each other questions as the soldiers followed suit.

At the gates, the boy turned around and closed them before using the brick-like thing to zap another soldier and pulling some canister out of his pocket, spraying it where the gates locked together. Again, almost instantly insects surrounded it, meaning that when the soldiers finally reached the gates, they'd be unable to open them due to the amount of bugs in their way.

Once finished, James looks away from the boy and to the streets around the Parc, noticing a black car coming towards them. Eyes wide, James recognises it as his fathers. When it comes to a stop, Mr Sprintz, James' father, steps out of the vehicle, and before the father can say anything, James is already across the street, dragging his new friend into the back of the car and shutting the door behind them.

Telling his father's driver to "drive," as Mr Sprintz joins them, the driver speeds of, away from the soldiers and back into the heart of France, towards the board meeting and thus towards a right telling off from his father.

Must admit I don't like the ending - or rather, the way it was wrote. Sounds too amateurish to me, but oh well.

I'd just like to say that I've officially broken up for Easter! Woo! Two -almost three - weeks off from college? Oh yeah.

It'll most probs mean I'll write the next few chapters fairly quickly - hopefully - so you MAY be getting chapters quicker than I'd originally thought.

Also, I'd like to say that I've finally finished with my first of two Media Studies coursework - my group has been working on it since before Christmas, so, you know, I'm glad it's outta the way.

I've gotten a fair idea of where the next chapter should be going, but after that, I don't know. Ideas, anyone? What would you like to see happen? Although this may be my story, like I've said before, I don't really have much ideas for where it's going to go… in my mind, I just saw Alex and James meeting up…. I never knew how they met up, nor what happens after.

Anyway, review and tell me what you think.