Okay, so ever since I started on the last chapter, and introduced the Segways, I've had this idea in my mind. Thanks must go to QI for the idea, and, of course, my brain which pieced it altogether to make it a chapter.

Disclaimer: I sadly don't own Alex Rider. Le sigh. Was that French?

Anyway, on with the show

Escape Chapter 14

Alex Rider

The car couldn't follow them down the alleyway, and they also couldn't fire because of the couple. By the time the couple had moved out of the way, Alex and James were long gone, too far away for the limited distance the dart gun could fire.

Alex wasn't all together sure of where he was to go next. It was obvious to him that he couldn't go to Morteau's train station because the soldiers would be watching it, but at the same time he couldn't just stay on the streets. Although it was day time, it was also the middle of the week – children should be in school right now, so two young boys in the streets would stand out like a sore thumb.

It had been an hour since they'd escaped from the sights of the car, and fifty minutes since Alex had dumped his and James' Segways in the Saône river not ten kilometres from the Swiss border. Alex was sad as he noticed the road sign stating this close to the river, knowing he wouldn't be entering Switzerland without further chases and fighting.

They were currently travelling along as many back alleyways and small side streets as possible, James questioning Alex on what they were going to do next.

"I don't know, James" Alex said, exasperated. This was the third time in an hour he'd asked, and Alex still hadn't gotten a plan together just yet. One was forming, but he was reluctant to piece it all together; the plan was a dangerous one. Not in the death-could-happen dangerous way, but in the I-might-not-escape-and-end-up-in-MI6's-clutches way. Or even the DGSE's clutches, the French equivalent of MI6. He was sure they'd cottoned on to what was happening, and it was them in the marketplace, not MI6. There was simply no way MI6 could have tracked him so quickly and set everything up. The French, however, had access to satellite cameras, CCTV cameras, and not to mention would actually be able to stage something like that. The amount of procedures MI6 would have broke if they'd partially taken over a French town... well, it could have led to the beginning of a war.

"Well," James paused, thinking of what to ask next. "Why'd we have to ditch the Segs? They were quicker and it meant we didn't have to walk," he moaned.

Alex frowned, annoyed. The answer was pretty simple, of course. "Because the Segways had tracking devices, in case they were stolen, as we did. Not to mention that we're already getting glances in our direction from people. The Segways would've just made us easier to follow – people would talk, and they'd find us."

"Ohh. So what are we gunna do now?"

Alex sent him a glare. It was the same question he'd asked not three minutes earlier, only rephrased.

"If you don't stop asking me that, I'm going to leave you behind is what I'm gunna do!" he said quietly, almost whispering but making his tone harsh to convey his annoyance.

James shrank away slightly, before facing forward with his bottom lip out slightly – he was sulking, and pouting.

Alex sighed, slightly sorry for his outburst. "James," he waited for the boy to look at him with sad eyes. "Look, mate. I told you that you could only come along if you did exactly what I said to do, didn't annoy me, and so long as you could keep up. You're doing two of those things right. Just... stop asking me the same question when the answer's not going to change. When it does, I'll tell you, all right?"

James nodded, looking down, abashed.

The answer to his questions came at around six in the evening, as the sun started to go down and the moon came up. It was dark enough for the street lights to have turned on automatically just fifteen minutes before, and for James to have started to get the shivers, despite the fairly heavy jacket and gloves he wore.

Alex was fine for now, but he could feel the coldness seep into his skin. He knew that soon enough, James would start to complain about this, and so they needed shelter – warm shelter.

They'd walked close to the main road leading into the town's city centre, and he knew there would be hotels close by. Alex found one in a shabby looking building, a run-down place that would serve it's purpose well. He entered the main lobby – or rather, a corridor with a desk inbuilt into the wall that served as a welcome area. Moving to the desk, he asked the server in French if he knew of any youth hostels within a fifteen minute walk.

"Non – le plus proche est en Switeland, à travers la frontière" the man said, before looking back down at the folders on the desk.

Alex sighed – the closest was in Switzerland, and there was no way they would be able to cross the border tonight. It would be heavily guarded. If Alex was by himself, then he would attempt it, but with James along for the ride, he knew there were too many factors to take into consideration that could – and most probably would – go wrong.

"Merci." He said, before turning away towards the door. James was rubbing his hands together, trying to keep them warm close to the entrance, and followed Alex as he left.

"They booked up?" He asked, wondering why they weren't getting a room.

"Yeah. Said we need to get closer to town for the bigger hotels with more rooms." Alex lied. He'd realised that the plan he didn't want to use was going to have to be put into action – Morteau was full of soldiers, too many soldiers for his liking. They needed to get out, and soon.

But he knew that all public transport routes would be monitored until they heard news of his whereabouts. They might be able to get out using taxis, but they'd only take them so far, and would cost an extortionate amount of money.

His plan would get them out of Morteau, for sure.

He didn't bother to tell James his plan – he couldn't trust the boy to keep his mouth shut, and if the plan went according to schedule, then the spontaneity of what happens and what is said could prove to be the deciding factor in the outcome.

"But..." James interrupted his thinking. "If we get closer to the town, then aren't we more likely to be captured?"

"Well, yes," Alex replied. "But if we're careful, then we'll be able to avoid them. And it might be better if we do get a place in the town. They'll more than likely be more on edge around the quieter places then in the most used ones. That's where they'll expect us to be."

"Ohh. Good thinking."

"Oh, and James. No matter what happens, make sure you keep your bag with you at all costs, alright?" James looked at him sharply.

"What do you mean? You think someone might happen?"

Alex shrugged. "You can never be too careful. And I don't know whether or not something will happen. But even when we get a hotel, keep your bag by your side, and grab it if someone enters the room, got it?"

"Yeah. Got it."

They kept quiet after that, as they walked toward the city centre. It would cost them more energy to speak, where that energy could be used to keep their bodies warm.

As they entered onto one of the streets to bring them into town, Alex steered James into the path that would lead to a hotel, and also one that would take them to the train station that they had tickets for.

James didn't recognise this, though – Alex had been keeping him in the dark for a while, choosing the streets carefully that would lead them to around the back of the train station, opposite of where they'd entered just hours before.

The hotels were plentiful here, but Alex chose the one that looked as it it would be the cheapest, the one that would have an eye kept on it.

They'd barely went up the steps leading to its front doors before they were grabbed from behind.

Alex smiled sadly – this was the end. It had been a great trip into the East of France, but it was ending, now. Next, it would be into the DGSE's hands, and from there, well, Alex didn't know.

The two men who had grabbed them turned them around, throwing them back into the wall of the hotel.

They were in civilian clothing, but that meant nothing – they weren't exactly going to parade around in black gear with the words 'DGSE' on the back of their shirts.

"Well, Frank, look who we have here!" The one holding James said. His accent confirmed to Alex that they were French, and so were, in fact, part of the DGSE rather than MI6. The gun he showed the boys strapped to his side only confirmed the fact that he wasn't some sort of robber.

'Frank' looked at the two boys. "Hmm. But which one do we want, Al?"

They both looked at the boys – both with fairly long blond hair, dark jackets with hoods up, about the same height and age.

"Alright. Which one of you is Alex?"

The real Alex was about to stand forward, when James surprised him, and put his hand up.

"I'm Alex," he said confidently. He surprised him even further as he turned to the side and swiftly brought his leg up and out, kicking Al in stomach. There wasn't much power to it, and Al had stepped away slightly so he didn't take more than a few seconds to recover. Al grabbed James by the neck, and put him into a headlock.

Spontaneity. Such a wonderful thing.

But Alex wasn't about to let James take the rap – it wasn't part of the plan, after all, and so stepped forward, and said "Actually, I'm Alex."

Frank had been looking at Al and James, and looked quickly towards Alex.

"Hey Al! This one's saying he's Alex."

To prove his point, he did the exact same thing James had done – turned to the side, brought his leg up and out, and kicked at Frank's stomach.

Frank had been doing martial arts since he was eight, and his training served him well. He quickly grabbed Alex's foot, pulled him to him, and whilst Alex was still unbalanced, grabbed onto his flailing hands and kicked the back of his knee of the foot that was still attached to the ground. This sent Alex straight to the floor, face first, and trapped with Frank holding his hands behind his back.

Alex had purposely left his foot out too long when he'd kicked Frank – he'd been taught to snap it back as quickly as possible after the attack by his teacher; or else the exact situation he was in would take place.

But what Frank and Al didn't know was that Alex wanted to be captured – and certainly wanted James to be captured, too. James had the bag with him, after all.

But what Alex hadn't expected was to be knocked unconscious by a rag around his mouth. He'd thought they'd keep him awake, in case someone wanted to question him sooner rather than later.

But it didn't matter in the scheme of things. He knew he'd be awake within a few hours, and where he knew they would take him – and James – took a lot longer than that by travelling in a van.

Alex would just wait them out, wait for the perfect opportunity to escape.

His last memory was of being moved. He didn't hear, or see, anything else after that.

Oh yeah. Guess who updated within a week! Can anyone guess what's going to happen in the next chapter? Me thinks not!

What about this plan – anyone have any ideas as to what it is?

All I'm going to say, is that keeping this story as original as possible is going to be taken to new heights. I VERY much doubt that anyone's done where I'm taking this before.

Mwuahaha.

Review?