So yeah, you can easily see how much I don't speak the French language, as I couldn't even get that dirty song spelt right :P I did Spanish for five years, so I suck at French.

I know this also has nothing to do with Alex Rider whatsoever, but I know people regularly rec out other FF's, but this week I thought I'd rec out a film I recently watched called "Four Lions" - one of the best films I've ever seen in my life. Funny yet hard-hitting stuff. It didn't appeal to me when I first heard about it, but I'm just so glad that I got bored and decided to watch it. Seriously. It's about four wannabe terrorists living in London, England, and their journey to become suicide bombers... like I said, though, funny stuff, besides all of the blowing up and stuff... just watch a trailer, see if you find it funny, then perhaps watch it if you want to.

-8-

He turned back to the selection of sandwiches, picking up a cheese and tomato one as the doors opened, the civilian stepping into the store. Straightening up, he was about to move forward to look at the crisps when the barrel of a gun was placed at the back of his neck, and a shout rang out just behind him.

"Donnez-moi l'argent dans la caisse, ou le garçon meurt!" (give me the money in the till, or the boy dies!)

-8-

Chapter 17

Alex Rider

Alex's first thought when he'd felt the gun pressed against his neck was to find a way to get out of the way of the gun – by moving away before striking the man's wrist to disable it, and which would inevitably end with the gun on the floor, and Alex's foot in the man's groin. But then, being as rationable as he was, he stopped his body from moving, and instead froze. As the man shouted further at the employee, and the employee shook as he slowly opened the till, he thought about where it would lead if he were to do... nothing.

The word, he admitted, wasn't in his mental dictionary, but perhaps it was out-dated as so many dictionaries are – and this word was about to make the new, updated edition.

This situation could go in many ways – either he, James and the employee could be shot and killed, the gunman could leave them all alive when he got the money he wanted, the police could turn up, and Alex be taken hostage, Alex could just be taken hostage anyway, or the gunman could shoot Alex as a message to the other two to show he meant business. He didn't particularly like any of the options, although two he hoped for.

The first, of course, was for the gunman to leave them all alive. Probable outcome, unless any of them did anything to upset him.

The second option he, crazily, hoped for was for the gunman to take him away. He would be sad to have to say his goodbyes to James, but if the gunman took him away before the police arrived, then he could be out of the city far quicker than if he were to walk in the sewers. Unless the gunman then killed him afterwards.

He saw James out of the corner of his eye, standing amongst shelves of crisps and chocolate bars, his mouth agape with what he was seeing. Alex ignored him for the moment, knowing he was safe for the meantime. When he looked forwards again, he noticed that the employee was putting money into a green shopping bag with the petrol station's name printed across the front. There were many notes, more so than he assumed there would be.

The gun pressed against his spine was pushed even further into him, knocking Alex forward a step. If he was going to act, then that would have been the perfect time for him to turn and fight his aggressor, but he didn't. The thought of being taken away appealed to him – he was sure he could fight the man off before he was killed; if he was, of course, taken away.

And, a slightly darker thought appealed in his mind – if the gunman gets the cash, Alex could take it from him when he gets away from him. It'd be a nice amount of money, too, if what he was seeing being took out of the till was anything to go by. The amount of money James had been given by his father was dwindling down. They needed more – he needed more.

The gunman pressed forwards again with the gun, and again Alex stepped forward, closer to the employee. It was easy to tell what the gunman was trying to do – push Alex and himself closer to the tills to collect the money. When they were almost two metres away, he stopped forcing the gun into Alex's head, before yelling, "Dépêchez-vous, ou je tire les enfants la tête! Maintenant!"

Ah, threatening to shoot him if the employee didn't hurry up. Classic, threatening someone. But Alex noticed the slight shaking of the man's voice as he said it, noticed that the gun was moving from side to side as it's holder became more and more nervous, more and more unsure of what he was doing.

And Alex, perhaps foolishly, decided to provoke him – this man would leave them all behind, rookie that he was. Quite obviously he wasn't a professional, and perhaps didn't count on having any other hostages besides the employee. He'd do a smash-and-grab technique, nothing more. But Alex needed to be taken away.

"You won't get away with it, you know," he whispered to the man, quiet enough so that only he'd hear it.

"Quoi?" The man asked.

"I said, vous n'aurez pas sortir avec elle, vous savez. You've already made the mistake of waiting too long, and I wouldn't be surprised if de police were around the corner," he said, almost sarcastically.

"Shut up, kid," the man said in English, his tone heavy with his native accent. "Just shut up, and I might let you live."

"You won't shoot me. Don't have the guts. You'll most probably put your hands up straight away when the police get here. Won't even try to escape. Weak and pathetic, they'll call you." Alex goaded.

"Shut up!" The man yelled again, this time whacking Alex over the head with the gun. It stung, a sharp pain quickly radiating from the impact zone, but there hadn't been all that much power to the hit and he stayed on his feet, conscious.

The employee finally managed to get all of the money into the bag, and the gunman started to shout at him, instead, this time in French, "Jetez plus, maintenant." The employee did as he said, throwing the bag towards Alex. He grabbed it out of the air, before asking the gunman what he wanted him to do with it.

"Take it out to the car, yes? Walk slowly, and you make any... wrong movements, and I will shoot you. Understand?" The man stuttered slightly in his speech, not used to having to speak English, never mind switching from one language to another.

He directed Alex out of the store, still at gunpoint, and to the passenger side of his dirty black Vauxhall. Unlocking the car and opening the door, he shoved Alex inside before slamming the door shut. As the gunman walked to his own side of the car, he kept the gun facing Alex, so that if he changed his mind and tried to escape, there would be no chance for him to do so.

The gunman must have realised as he was moving around the car that, once inside, he wouldn't be able to drive the car and keep the gun poised on Alex. Unfortunately for the boy, as soon as the gunman stepped inside, he didn't even get the chance to defend himself before the gun was swung in his direction, and the butt of it slapped straight into the side of his face. Although the cramped space in the car meant there was little power to the swing of the man's arm, it still hurt.

And Alex, after a moment of confusion, slowly felt his head slip forward onto his chest, and darkness descended.

-8-

Okay, so I have a plan. For the first time, I think, ever, for this story. Woo!

And yeah, I know it's short. But it's been a while since I posted something, and this was all I had. So enjoy, I guess.

Gotta admit that I didn't actually intend to make Alex slightly darker in his thoughts. It just came outta nowhere whatsoever. I swear.

Anyway, review please :D