I'm sorry it's taken so long to do this chapter, but it is longer then the other two!

So longer time equals more words ^^

But be warned that this chapter contains violence and swearing.

Disclaimer: When I rule the world. Yes, that's a when; I will own the Alex Rider books as well as everything else in the known galaxy. Sadly that day has not yet come…

By now Alex was weakly scrabbling at the mans thick arms, trying to pry them away from his throat but having very little success.
He just wanted the pain to go away. Just wanted to breathe. Funny how you only truly appreciate things when they're gone. Now that he could no longer draw oxygen into his starved lungs, he was really missing it.
He couldn't swallow, but there was an odd taste in his mouth, metallic and revolting. Was this part of being strangled to death? He hadn't noticed it last time. Then again, he had had other things to worry about then, as he did now.
Something else he did vaguely notice though was that the man was wearing thin
plastic gloves, the type that are see-through and disposable. He had obviously worn them so that he wouldn't leave finger prints all over the place. That wouldn't help him now though. Alex's nails had pretty much shredded them.
It was only a small victory though from where Alex was standing, just in front of hells gates. He would much rather he lived and the thief got away then for him to get killed and the murderer brought to justice because he left finger prints around the house.

Hands pushing, scratching, pulling, trying to escape, Alex accidentally caught his own face with one of his thumb nails (which just happened to have a bit of plastic caught in it.) He hardly noticed the pain of sharp nail on the soft skin, just above his lip, but he did notice through the miasma of pain, the odd red streak the same thumb then left on his attackers arm.
Blood. As starved of air as his brain was, it could still register that. So that must be the odd taste in his mouth. And of course, that door had hit him square in the face. It must have given him a nose bleed.
Without stopping to think beyond that, he ran his hand weakly across the bottom half of his face, covering it in dull red blood and then reaching roughly up, smeared it across the strangers face.
This did what all the punches and scratches had not, and with a cry of disgust, his attacker instinctively let go of Alex to try and wipe the blood off his face.

That little bastard! Swearing and shuddering in disgust, Daniel turned away from Alex and used his sleeve to try and get off as much of the repulsive stuff as he could. What a disgusting tactic, wiping blood from a nose bleed all over his face! Not that it had done anything to help the little brat; he was just going to enjoy crushing the life out of him even more.
He turned his face back round to glare down at the kid, just in time to feel something else hit him in the face, leaving his eyes burning.

While the thief had been distracted, Alex had taken full advantage of the situation. Drawing in ragged gasps of breath that burnt his throat and soothed his lungs, he had reached up for his earlier target. The almost full bottle of Lynx Shampoo. The lid was already off, despite the fact that Alex hadn't been home to use it for a at least a month.
As Daniel swung his head back round, quite a lot of the blood still smeared across his face, Alex squirted him right in the eyes with the shampoo.
A fist shot out and slammed him in the chest before the thief temporarily abandoned his attack again to madly scrabble to get the clear, burning gunk out of his eyes.
Alex groaned in pain as his attackers movements caused the weight on his legs to shift repeatedly.

He tried desperately to wriggle his legs out from under the other mans knees, but the weight was just too much for him to get himself free. Grabbing the corners of the bath, he tried his hardest to escape, knowing that he had just seconds before this brief respite was over.
And he was right. Once again Daniel turned his head round to face Alex. His face was still covered in blood, shampoo streaked down his cheeks like tears and his eyes were blood shot. He also had a look on his face that could only be summed up as
pure bloody murderous.

"You little shit…" The words where hissed and distorted, his anger at such a volcanic level that he could barely form the words for the choking rage.
He grabbed Alex's T-shirt and yanked him forward. As he did so, Alex shot a fist forwards and punched him straight in the nose. If he had been able to he would have hit him in a way that would have hopefully sent shards of bone from his nose into his brain, killing him almost instantly. As it was, he just managed a full-on blow. Not that that was anything to scoff at, as when Alex hit him, he could feel bone and cartilage crunch beneath his fist.
Daniel let out a strangled scream and let go of Alex's top. Alex couldn't stop his head from slamming down against the bottom of the bath once again.
A fist came his way, aiming straight for his face but Alex had been expecting it, and at the last minute he managed to twist his head away. Daniel let out another cry of pain as his fist slammed into toughened plastic.

Now they were almost even, injury wise, but Alex couldn't see any way out of his hopeless situation. He was pinned down heavily by his legs and so couldn't even move to get away from an opponent who had been prepared to kill Alex before he even got hurt. And now that he was in pain he would be even more violent then before.
Alex had his arms raised above his head to try and protect himself, but it did little to help.
The pain-crazed robber simply grabbed Alex's right arm, an arm that was about half the width of his own, and wrenched it backwards.
He let out a gasp of pain and in moments, his other arm suffered the same fate.

Daniel was now glaring down at him, Alex's legs pinned beneath his knees and his arms trapped above his head at a painful angle.
The criminal leered at him, a dangerous smile curling his bloody lips. "Who the hell do you think you are, you little brat?"
"Alex Rider" Came the whispered reply. Alex's throat burned horribly and that was the best he could manage. Then with a hint of his usual cheek in his quite voice, he continued, "I live here, remember?"
"I don't fucking care if you live here. I just know you'll die here!" Daniel seemed pleased with this clever little answer, and his malicious grin grew wider, revealing badly looked after teeth. Alex was just glad that the man wasn't any closer to him, someone with teeth that bad couldn't have very nice breath. Thank goodness for small mercy's and all that.

The two bruised and bloodied males glared at each other, at a bit of a stalemate. If Daniel let go of one of Alex's arms, he would be able to punch him but Alex would also be able to punch him back.
The obvious solution was to put on one or both of Alex's arms out of action.

Breaking them would definitely do that.
Just as this idea occurred to Daniel, there was a noise from downstairs as a key scrabbled in a lock and the front door swung open. Then came the rustling of shopping bags.
"Jack!" Alex yelled. Or at least he tried to, the name came out as barely more then a whisper. "Jack!" He called again, this time a little louder.
To his surprise, the criminal suddenly let go of his arms, and before Alex had time to make use of this advantage, a fist smashed into the side of his head, leaving him temporarily stunned.
He barely noticed as the great weight on his legs finally eased off as the thief slipped quietly out of the bath and stepped towards the open door. Who ever it was down there that the boy was calling to might not have heard him, but Daniel had clearly heard 'Jack.' So it sounded as though he had another opponent waiting down there, perhaps this Jack guy was the boy's backup or something. (Daniel still didn't believe that Alex really lived
there.)
Who ever it was, he reckoned he better get rid of him first before dealing with the boy.

He might not have quite finished the job yet, but the little bastard was as good as dead now anyway. It was whoever it was coming through the door that he reckoned would be the most trouble.
And after he dealt with the guy downstairs and got rid of the brat he would have to try and wake Mike up. No good leaving him here, he could pretty much be relied on to grass on him to the filth if he got caught here. He would probably give up Daniel's name for a cigarette knowing him. Mike was a greedy coward; he would probably hand over his own mother to the police if they looked at him sideways or offered him a fiver.

It wasn't worth it staying any longer then he had to to try and steal some more valuables. That bloody kid, he had messed up all their plans! They had been told this was a simple job, just a few days of surveillance and then a quick breaking and entering to grab some goods.
But then the damn kid turned up. Now Mike was unconscious and he was going to have to kill the teenage brat and whoever was downstairs. And then scarper with hardly anything of worth to show for his efforts. The bosses where not going to be happy.
No, first he would have to torch the place, his finger prints where all over now, and they would soon be on not one, but two corpses.
But first things first…

Jack knew something was wrong pretty much straight away. Because it was so obvious.
When you return home and spot a large black shoulder bag laying at the bottom of the stairs, one that contained several of your possessions from around the house, you know some things going on.
She held her breath in shock as her heart started to beat fast. Slowly Jack placed the shopping bags in her hands down on the floor, hating the rustling they made as she did.
Jack then crept forward, glancing up the stairs in front of her she could see the bathroom door open. That meant nothing to her though, she couldn't remember if she had left it opened or closed.
Peering round into the sitting room told her lots though. Her laptop was no longer on the desk in the corner (but she had already known that since she had glimpsed it in the black bag) and several other items where either missing, out of place or laying broken on the floor.
Oh. My. God! Jack thought to herself, adrenaline and fear causing through her. They had been robbed! No, wait, if they had been robbed then the bag would be gone. They were being robbed!

What about Alex! Where was Alex? She had left him asleep in his room, what had happened to him?
In that second her fear for herself was replaced with fear for him. This couldn't just be a normal robbery, could it? Out of all the houses in the world, it was the one Alex had just returned to which was being robbed. That couldn't be a coincidence. And what if this wasn't even a real robbery?
For all Jack knew it could be another assassination attempt and the whole burglary thing could just be a front.
What if she was too late?
Jack froze again, listening as hard as she could for any noise. The bathroom door creaked, making Jack feel as though she was about to have a heart attack.
There was someone up there!

Part of her just wanted to run away screaming as fast and as loudly as she could. The other, more prominent part would never let her. Jack had never been able to stop MI6 using Alex; they had sent him off on those sick missions despite all her pleading, begging and threats. Never before had she been able to do anything to protect her poor, abused charge. But she wouldn't let him down this time. This time she could act, so she would.
She might not be some sort of super spy but thanks to Ian she knew how to protect herself.
Jack also knew that those who carry knives are much more likely to get stabbed themselves then those who left them well alone.
But there was no way she was going to go up there unarmed.

Jack crept through to the kitchen, which was in a much worse state then the sitting room and silently slipped open the cutlery draw. The spoons, knives and forks rattled slightly as the draw moved and Jack froze like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a lorry.
There was no responding noise from upstairs so she reached into the draw and carefully drew out a knife. It wasn't the largest knife in the draw, that would have been too big and unwieldy. It wasn't the smallest either, that would have just been one of their blunt table knifes. Instead she chose the one somewhere between the two. It was relatively small but sharp. Instead of feeling more secure holding it, she felt like a fool. Who knew what she was about to face? Who ever it was could have a gun or a machete for all she
knew!
And she was going after him/her/it with a knife she used to chop up vegetables…
Oh well, Jack's father had always said she had a terrible sense of self preservation …

Notice any really spelling or grammar stupid mistakes? Don't blame me! Blame my wonderful proof reader, With The What Now!

(Please note that this is even more likely to lead to a spoon in the heart then saying anything nasty about me!)

You have been warned! But please comment anyway ^^

*starts sharpening spoon menacingly*