Alex Rider | VMWEdu

PLEASE NOTE: WE HAVE DONE TOO MUCH FIRST-PERSON, SO NOW OMNISCIENT THIRD PERSON SHALL BE USED. I HEREBY DECLARE IT.

It was early morning, on a regular Thursday, when Alex Rider woke up and jumped out of bed. It was only Monday, but he was already disliking it: both the prospect of school, which nearly everyone at Brookland School hated, but it was compulsory nevertheless. After showering for a quick minute, his thoughts became much clearer already, and he was ready. He was ready for everything. The day passed, apparently quicker than usual. From Maths to English to Science…

But that was not the thing that was on his mind the whole time. That was his uncle. Even as he talked to his two best friends, that was the one thing on his mind. Not entirely his, also. The two of them both had uncles working in the very same bank, which had naturally meant that they were good friends. But his uncle had recently been sent on business, working for just a plain, ordinary bank that had meant nothing to either of the three. But what Alex had noticed was that there was something strange about his uncle. Every single business trip he had come from, he had had injuries, broken bones, and pains and bruises, which he could just not explain. He had begun to refer to himself as ‘accident-prone’, which seemed to resolve the problem, until that day. His uncle had planned on coming home that very day to meet him in person, which had not happened in a very long time, so they were planning on having a great time. But no, he did not come back, and already, Alex was feeling very down.

But it was at around one am at the morning, when Alex had woken up to the sound of a doorbell ringing that he knew there was something deeply wrong. No one usually rings at one am in the morning, and the feeling of bad new stuck strongly to the low sound of the dong as it chimed again. Slowly, after coming down, Alex opened the door, just to face around a dozen policemen and the flashing of sirens. The leading one said, ‘Mr Rider?’

‘Yes.’

‘The nephew of Ian Rider?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m afraid to say, Mr Rider, that your uncle is dead.’

He could not describe the emotion. It gnawed at him, chewed at him, bit him, tortured him, pestered him, and he felt as if there had been a knife, plunging straight through his heart. This was the first time in his life that he had felt true sadness, and he disliked it intensely, for it had only been associated with anger, which he hated bitterly and therefore did not like. It melted his heart to think of his life, only short, and already crumbling, without the feeling of a true guardian, one that could take care of him, protect him, one that he could rely on. All of that, falling and falling into an abyss of darkness, where nothing, not a single thing existed, and he could not even think about that place, where feeling went into a place where it could never be found ever again. He hated the real world now, for its bitter and evil things were of too much hatred to him, for when someone had died he did not understand how they felt in truth, but now he did, for he had felt it himself. He had wished he never had to experience such a terrible thing in life, but he did, and he really disliked the idea of it. No, he did not want to understand the hatred that he hoped he would never feel ever again, and with a bitter taste in his tongue and tears in his eyes, he forced himself to converse with the policeman.

‘How did he die?’

‘A terrible car accident. He was not wearing his seatbelt. He crashed into a lorry. There were no arguments as to what happened. No signs of any intention. Just an accident. I’m afraid all these things happen all the time, and I’m sorry it had to happen to you.’

At once, Alex knew this could not be true. His uncle always put on his seatbelt, no matter what happened. He would never have dared to not where a safety belt, for he knew the risks and the threats. Every single time they had been together he had been told to put on his seat belt. So why were the police lying?

## dudu

i just decided to focus on alex. it’d be a little awkward to have two spies

Alex didn’t go to school that day. Secretly, he would have liked to, to feel… normal. But he needed to be there for the visitors. There were five of them, the visitors. The first was a solicitor who knew nothing about a will, a funeral director, a vicar and a neighbour from down the street. The last was rather curious; there hadn’t been time for the word to travel down the street. There was also a bank guy. They came irregularly. Some in the afternoon, some a few minutes after the policemen came. The ‘bank guy’ introduced himself as Crawley, from Personnel.

After meeting everyone, he went upstairs to use the PlayStation. There was nothing else to do. After he had gone downstairs again, Jack took him to a Burger King. Alex was glad to get out of the house, although they barely communicated. The rest of the day flew past in a series of indistinct blurs. The day of the funeral had come. Jack had picked out a charcoal grey jacket with a matching tie for him. He wore a shirt underneath, a normal school shirt. For his trousers, he wore matching charcoal trousers. Then they were off to the funeral.

It was an uneventful occasion. Ian Rider was buried in the Brompton Cemetery on Fulham Road, in the shadow of the Chelsea football grounds. Alex knew that his uncle would rather be watching the Chelsea team playing football right now than being buried in a coffin. Alex waited for the droning voice of the vicar to stop. A Rolls Royce pulled up, and the back door opened. A plane to Heathrow cast a shadow over the cemetery, and for a heartbeat, Alex felt a shiver run down his spine. The man who got out looked like he were in a coffin, not Ian Rider. Dead eyes, dead lips, dead face. He looked like a reanimated corpse.

## Hei (Two sharps are not necessary)

The man introduced himself as Alan Blunt. His voice was as lifeless as his appearance and whatever you said, he would always seem uninterested and he was always… thinking. After the tedious droning of the vicar stopped, another equally monotonous woman introduced herself as Mrs. Jones, the deputy head of where Ian rider worked – the royal and general bank. They explained to him that Ian Rider had died because he crashed into a lorry and he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. When they spoke those words he burst out with a string of words so loud that the unlikely pair flinched. “Ian would never not wear a seatbelt. He would drive on metre without a seatbelt. He was a very careful man Mr. Blunt!”

Alan blunt swore under his breath. “He wasn’t careful enough then.” Alex was so enraged Jack had to cage him from behind to stop him from doing the reverse neck choke, one of the deadliest moves in karate to him. The seemed to be a boiling anger in Alex that just wanted to see the man’s blood. All the pain of losing his uncle had been replaced with a boiling energy and anger.

Later that day, Jack took him to Stanford bridge to watch Chelsea versus Man United, which they lost 60-0. Jack bought a coke to calm his nerves, and let him relax; he was shouting himself hoarse.

#Bai

Dear Hei. Please do not write off-topic things in this post. Thank you.

After the funeral, Alex and Jack had to clear the room of Ian, the study which had been his home for many years, which he sometimes stayed for hours upon hours upon hours inside. He had been in this room for the longest time he was in the house, but there was barely anything in it. The walls were clean and white, except for a painting of a place in Cornwall. There were no papers on his desk, just a computer, a nearly blank notebook (except for some kind of gibberish), and a telephone. Nowhere, in the room that was visible was there any sign of what was going on with Ian. But perhaps there was something in the drawers, and Alex had opened it and found almost nothing, once again – there was only a group of files that had said TOP SECRET and DO NOT OPEN. There were only three. There was nothing.

A while later, Alex Rider was walking along the road. He was just strolling, strolling his way back home to Jack, so he could finally have his dinner, sit down and relax, and think, yes, think what he was going to be doing next, for he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do. But all of a sudden, he heard a shout behind him. It was Jack, pointing at the man he had taken all of Ian’s things. Alex, with his quick thinking, leapt onto his bike and started chasing, chasing the man down. He remembered what Ian had once said to him.

“Goddamn it. London has such slow traffic. Everything here is absolutely horrible, especially the traffic. I wish I could have a horse and carriage, that would be fantastic. There is no use for cars: everything is so slow and tiring and ridiculous and exhausting that one could use a bike to catch any single car in the world, any single one. So, a lesson for you, Alex, next time you’re chasing down a car in London, just use a bike to catch them down!”

“But then, Ian, why do you have a car?

“I have a car because I need it for business. There are many things that you don’t know about me, Alex. There are also many things that you don’t know about who I work for. There are many things you don’t know about my challengers, my competitors. And there are many tactics that you don’t know about. This car is one. You may be thinking, Oh, Alex, he’s insane, crazy, mad. I’m not. There are just things you don’t know about me. You know nothing. Nothing. You have no idea what I deal with at my work.”
“What, just some bad tax income? Some angry customers?”
“No. Things are much worse than that. Things that can make any sane man go insane.”
“A very angry man?”
“Oh, no. Much worse than the wildest of your dreams.”

duFu

Alex knew that his uncle had been wearing a seatbelt. He was always one to give lectures about keeping himself safe and putting safety before all others in a car. It would make him a hypocrite, not putting his seatbelt on. Alex had a sudden desire to see the car. He remembered that, just before entering the house on the day of the funeral, there had been a van outside, with the name STRYKER & SON printed onto it. But before he could register anything interesting about it, it leapt away, down the road. Alex gazed absently out of the school window.
“Alex?”
He jerked out of his trance. He realized that Mr Donovan, the maths teacher, had asked him a question. He quickly glanced at the whiteboard, calculating the maths.
“Umm… x is seven, and y is fifteen, sir.” Mr Donovan sighed.
“Correct, but I was only asking you to close the window.”

He got through the rest of the day, miraculously. While everybody was slowly idling their way out to their parents, Alex made his way to the school’s secretary’s office. The secretary was a young woman in her twenties. She was called Jane Bedfordshire, and she’d always had a soft spot for Alex.
“What are you looking for?” She asked. Alex had taken a local directory and was flicking through the pages.
“Breaker’s yards…” he muttered. “If a car had been smashed near the Old Street, they’d take it somewhere nearby, wouldn’t they?” he asked.
Jane contemplated his question, then slowly nodded.
“I suppose so.” Alex raced through the pages, his eyes darting through the sheets. Then he finally found what he had been searching for. He pulled the book over to him and pointed to an address.

#Hei

To #Bai : I love you

Near Old Street there was a car haven named Stryker and Son. Slowly, Alex inched bit by bit under the platform and slid on his front. While a car entered the gates of wrought iron Alex sprinted with the van into the haven. He was in! Rapidly, he began searching the cars for a white BMW with the Car plate RID3R on it. Alex had always found it ironic that the car plate was their last name! After a minute or two of relentless searching, he found his father’s brother’s car (Ian hated the word Uncle). Sensing there was no one in sight, he crept in, as agile and silent as a mouse. Inside, there were plush leather seats and a standard steering wheel. Alex tried to turn on the ignition, which surprisingly turned on easily and silently. He opened the glove box and found it filled with guns! Not just the normal kind in air rifle shooting but RPG’s, M-15’s and most of all dazzling many Bazookas. A sliver of curiosity crept into his heart. He touched the dashboard and two buttons came up. Nuclear bomb and jumper seat.

Suddenly, out of nowhere two men with screwdrivers came. Alex grabbed a M-15 and ran.

#Bai: Why did you write that you love me?

Hei has become the new Yao, writing about guns.

It was very strange. It seemed that Ian was some kind of… spy? Which business bank-man would carry guns in their car? Which man would have the licence plate their surname of the car? And then it hit him. The entire bank – Mr Blunt, the rooms, was fake: surreal, just a cover for what was secretly hidden behind. An entire enterprise of spies, workers, to do the government their bidding. Then he just heard voices behind him. “What do we do with the Rider car?”

“Blunt told us to destroy it. In the crusher. The deadline was yesterday.”

“Then I had better do it now.”

He saw from the rear window, about a minute later, the crusher began to move. It was pick up the car, and squeeze it together, leaving the car, and whatever was inside (a couple of guns and Alex) to be destroyed. Alex began to panic. What would happen to his body, and where would it go? He only had a couple of seconds to think what to do, and he leapt out of the window (but how had he done that). The plan was always there, he just had to think it through.

Doors, locked and stable, impossible to open from inside. Boot, also locked. Windows, plexiglass and unable to smash. Guns – usable but can’t escape with it. Land is undrivable and therefore cannot drive away to safety. Ignition key is smashed, unusable. No way of destroying any part with fists only. Can only use guns for smashing, but they won’t destroy it. Seems impossible to escape from the land with damaging oneself or showing everyone else where exactly you are. Can only wait. Possible to fire at the crane operator and kill or signal him. But must shoot out of the window. Oh yes. Destroy the window by shooting at it, then leap down onto tyres below with a safe landing and so escape.

He fired onto the window and smashed it to bits, then leapt down. Unfortunately many people had already seen him, and therefore were following him as he jumped away. He met a man as he heading towards his bike, and executed a perfectly timed strike to the chest. The man fell down, unconscious. Soon, Alex was on a bike, heading back home, relatively unscathed.

As soon as he got home, he knew he had to look for Crawley, and tell him, no, and berate him about what had happened. Or he could bring it to the next level, and quite literally, berate the head of Special Operations of MI6, Mr Blunt, and see what he had to say about this…

tofu (née dudu)

The ‘bank’ rang the next day.
“Hello, this is John Crawley, Personnel Manager from the Royal & General Bank,” Alex thought that he had heard that name somewhere. Then he remembered. Crawley had introduced himself at the funeral. He had the sort of face that you could forget as you were looking at it, and it was no surprise he hadn’t forgotten the name.
“We were wondering if you could come in?”
“Come in?” Alex was only half-ready and late for school; what else to add to the havoc?
“We found some papers of your uncle’s. We were wondering if you could take a look at them. We need to talk to you… about your position.”
“What time this afternoon?”
“We were thinking about… four-thirty? We’ll send a cab over. We’re on Liverpool Street.”
“I’ll be there. And I’ll take the Tube.”

He hung up.
“Who was that?” Jack called from the kitchen. She was cooking breakfast.
“It’s the bank,” Alex called. He came into the room, wearing a spare uniform. He hadn’t told her about the breaker’s yard yet. Jack was worried enough.
“I’m going there this afternoon, four-thirty.” Jack nodded.

He emerged from the tube station just after four-twenty that afternoon. He looked around for the bank. He found it easily enough. As he made his way to the building, he paused hesitantly. If the bank was somehow responsible for Ian Rider’s death, maybe they might be responsible for his. No. That was stupid. They wouldn’t hurt him, let alone kill him. He didn’t even have an account there. He stepped in.

At the reception, he asked for a Mr John Crawley. A staff member had led him to some sort of waiting room while Mr Crawley came. In a few minutes, the lift doors opened and John Crawley himself walked out.

#Bai

“Alex! What a delight. Now, I will just take you to the office where Ian worked, and we’ll discuss a few things.”

“Of course.”

Alex followed John Crawley up the lift and onto the eleventh floor. The room was 1157. Alex didn’t have to know much history to know that 1157 was the year King Richard was born, King Richard the Lionheart. That already rang a bell in his mind. In Ian’s office, there was nothing, just like his home office. Completely bare of any pictures, there was nothing on the table. Nothing. No files, or pens, or pencils or photographs – it was just bare. Underneath the table lay three folders, each having its respective label. The first read Stormbreaker. The second read Darius Sayle. And the third read Yassen Gregorovich. What on earth was that about? Alex had heard of Darius Sayle, a famous man, donating some kind of computer. Ahh, yes. They had been named Stormbreakers on television. But where did that leave Yassen Gregorovich? Some kind of enemy spy?

Meanwhile, John Crawley had sat down, and poured himself a cup of water. He said to Alex, “Now, you know the truth. The truth about your uncle, and everyone who worked with him. And now, …”

Just then, his phone began ringing. He left the room, quietly, signalling for Alex to wait where he was, as he left. He left Alex feeling very curious, very curious about what exactly happened upstairs. Somehow he felt something interesting would happen there. Then, he stood up and saw what was outside. A flagpole that would help him rise upwards and finally uncover the secrets of his uncle. He opened the window, looked beneath him – thirty-three metres of accursed distance that he would fall until he died, if he let go, that is. But if he reached it, he could uncover, god knows what. So, he shut his eyes, and jumped…

His hands gripped the cold, hard metal of death. The other land. He opened his eyes, and saw whiteness. He was dead, simply dead, and he remembered how stupid he was to have made that jump. He turned around to see the bank. The whiteness had been the pole. So perhaps he was imagining things. So, he climbed up the post, bit by bit. And now, the tricky part. The flagpole was about maybe fifty centimetres away from the ledge to the office above. Easy to make a jump from the ledge to the pole, but not vice versa. Too wide to make a stride, and Alex really didn’t want to smash the window. So, he jumped, and did a 360 in the air, and landed on the ledge. Opening, the window, he dusted himself and entered. And there, Crawley was waiting for him, with a tranquilliser. Bang! Alex fell asleep.

#Hei

Your mistakes, Hei have been underlined below.

When Alex woke up, he was in a square cell, about 10 metres wide with a bunk, a table and a sink and toilet. His clothes were lying on the table and rapidly, he dressed himself[unnecessary word]. A few minutes later, Crawley came to meet him didn’t say a word. But his eyes said a quick sorry and continued looking forward at the corridor. Slowly, they strolled to Blunt’s office. As they entered, Alex realised that Blunt was both his name and personality. He was…well, blunt. When Alex took a seat, Blunt only looked up and [extra space]commented “Ah, you must of[have] woken. I was wondering when you would wake up. Anyway, it was a good test. So, Alex, I think you are a very interesting young man. A boy who climbs in heights that could kill a person, just to satisfy his curiosity? That seems very interesting indeed. Now, you have met Mr Crawley, and you may have seen the files on your uncle’s desk.”

Blunt had said all this in a blunt and rapid machine-gun fire of his and finally, he paused to have a drink of tea. That was when Alex cut in with a sharp reply. ”Why are you telling me all this? If my uncle was a spy, I certainly isn’t[am not]! And so what do you want with me?”

Blunt replied, saying ”He did train you. Karate black belt. Judo black belt. Jiu-Jitsu black belt. Taekwondo black belt. Kung Fu master. Rifle shooting. White water rafting. He was training you, Alex. Now, we want you for your potential. You see, we sent your uncle in to work out what was in Darius Sayle’s house. And he ended up dead. Now we need you.

tofu

Alex was sent back to his room to think. Cairo, Hong Kong, Washington, even Iran! Instead of being fun, family holidays, they were, in fact, death missions until a slip. A very dangerous slip. It had even cost him his life. As he mulled over his thoughts, there was a gentle knock on the door. He opened it to a young Asian woman in her early twenties.

“Mr Blunt would like you to join him in dinner.” She then abruptly turned around and led him to the dining room.

The dining room was an elegant contemporary-themed room. There was a big circular table in the middle, where Mr Blunt and Mrs Jones were seated. A delicate chandelier hung over the table. Blunt’s dull voice echoed around the hall.

“Alex,” Blunt smiled fleetingly as if it was his first time trying. “How nice of you to join us.

Alex took a seat.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice, frankly.”

“Yes. I don’t quite know what Crawley was thinking, shooting you like that, but I guess it was the easiest way. May I introduce my colleague, Mrs Jones.” Mrs Jones studied him through narrow, inscrutable eyes. Then they ate.

It was good food, carré d’agneau, or roast lamb. Mrs Jones and Mr Blunt sipped at expensive red wine while Alex stuck to water. He wasn’t old enough to legally drink alcohol, and after the supermarket cola experience, he wasn’t going to risk getting another artificial soft drink.

“I’m sure you’ve gathered that Royal & General is not a bank. In fact, it doesn’t even exist… It’s nothing more than a cover. And it follows, of course, that your uncle had nothing to do with banking. He worked for me. My name, as I told you at the funeral, is Blunt. I am Chief Executive of the Special Operations Division of MI6. And your uncle was, for want of a better world, a spy.”

#Bai

My dear Hei. I think you have some serious grammar errors. The mistakes have been highlighted below.

Your mistakes, Hei have been underlined below.

Right. It had been revealed the truth. The entire, blatant truth of it all, what Alex really was, what his uncle was. And then, all of a sudden, the Head of Special Operations of a Multiple and Important Branch of MI6 which Dominated the Sectors of the Safety of the Country and Illegal Operations which Take Place in the UK (the full name which can be abbreviated to HSOMIBMI6DSSCIOTPUK), and the deputy head of the Head of Special Operations of a Multiple and Important Branch of MI6 which Dominated the Sectors of the Safety of the Country and Illegal Operations which Take Place in the UK suddenly were offering him a job. He, a fourteen-year-old, has been asked to complete this challenge? There was only one thing that he could have done.

“No.”

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“No. This work is not for me. I’m fourteen. Doing fine in school. I want to go to university. My teachers say that I have hope. I’m not doing it.”

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I said, no. I would never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever in my life attempt this. Not even if Ian did it. I would never even attempt to do it, at all.”

“Well, maybe I should five you the bigger picture. Your housekeeper, Jack Starbright. A delightful woman. Our file says a lot about her. However, her visa had run out eight years ago, or so we can make it so. If you do not compromise with us. Now do you understand? I can change whatever I want. And if that means sending your housekeeper home, then that it what I’ll have to do. I am a ruthless man in my line of work. So I would advise you to compromise.”
“So, you’re forcing me to do something. You have no human rights.”
“Not exactly. I’m just placing you in a position such that you would have a difficult time getting out of it, whether that would mean placing an unpleasant situation upon you.”
“…which leads to me doing what you want me to do. So, that’s practically forcing me to do something I don’t want to do.”

#hEIhiheiheiheiheiheiheihieheiihiehiehieheiheihieheieheiehiehiehieheihieheiheiheieheieiheheiheeiheiheheiehehihehiehiehieiheihe (this name is very inappropriate)

”Fine, what do you want me to do?”

“”We will begin with a SAS training unit and then you will go to investigate Sayle’s place. The training unit will toughen you up, and then we will send you to Smithers for gadgets.”

“What will we do in the training session?”

” You will be practicing gun shooting, knife-throwing, running, combat with grenades and finally skydiving.”

A few days later, Alex knew why Blunt had told him it would toughen him up. The inmates constantly bullied and he had to constantly use his karate skills and the whole experience was gruelling. Alex was perfect at gun shooting and knife-throwing and all the other skills except grenades and skydiving. One of the inmates, Wolf was deliberately hitting Alex with tons of grenades. He picked up all of his armoury and hurled it with all his strength at Alex.

After Mrs. Jones had pulled Alex away from the SAS training unit, he took a trip to Smithers. He was an ample man and was expertise in weapons. He gave Alex a yo-yo the was highly magnetic and shot poison dart at the press of a button. He gave Alex a Nokia 3310 flip phone that would deploy a tranquiliser dart and a pen that shot a tiny bomb.

dudu

He sat on his bed, contemplating the situation that he was in. He was ultimately forced to work for an intelligence service where he could be sent to his death. It would be a matter of hours before he would be going to Sayle’s house, and he didn’t know what to do. He reviewed his choices

1) Running away. About 7% possible, for the cameras and the security guards.

2) Do what the service wants him to do. The best option and there was a higher chance of him surviving.

There had been a boy of about his age and looks who had been chosen to visit Sayle and stay as his guest for seven days. He was to take the boy’s place and stop Sayle, and he didn’t even know how!

It was all passed in a blur, and he was at Sayle Enterprises. There was a sign on a corrugated iron gate.

Sayle Enterprises

Trespassers will be shot.

Alex suddenly felt weak.

“My luggage?”

“It will be sent over to your room.”

Alex got out of the car and followed the driver through a thick carpet corridor that Alex almost bounced through it. The driver led him to a room then walked out. A tank at the corner of the room caught his eye. It was not full but rather empty. And that was when Alex saw it.

A huge, floating mass of translucent jelly. It had an almost cone-shaped head, and its tentacles had massive stingers. One touch, and you’d be dead. Alex stared at it in horror and awe. What type of person was this Herod Sayle to keep killer jellyfish? He stared at it. One of the most deadly creatures on the planet, only a few inches away from his face, kept from killing him by only a thin pane of glass…

#Hei

All of a sudden, Sayle appeared, inches from Alex’s face. ” The Portuguese man of war. When I was diving in the North Atlantic ocean, I found this species. I do not like to capture animals, but this one fascinated me so much that I just had to keep it. One touch of this jellyfish and you will be dead. Bliddy dead, as my father used to say.”

Alex replied, dumbstruck. ” It has no guts, no brain, no anus. The only way it lives is by having lucky shot when a stupid fish swims through its tentacles.”

” Nonetheless, it is a ruthless killing machine. Anyway, we happen to have one of the best rooms free for you. It was prepared for one of my security guards but suddenly he disappeared! So, this room is now yours!”

#Bai

The jellyfish was terrifying, and so was pretty much every single thing about the person — he was loud, and there always seemed to be a mysterious aura about him. He was never exactly normal, always something strange about him. And Alex never stopped suspecting him for things he might have done. But so far he seemed perfectly normal. Nothing was too ridiculous about him.

“Why, hello, Kevin. I hoped you have enjoyed looking at the various items which are stationed in my house. First of all, have you seen my jellyfish, the one over there.”
“Oh yes. I find it rather threatening, actually.”
“Really? Well, I understand I’m being a bit factual here, but the Portuguese man o’ war is a Cnidarian invertebrate (basically a jellyfish). It lives in the sea. It is sometimes called the blue bubble, or man-of-war. Its common name comes from a Portuguese war ship of the 15th and 16th century. The ship had triangular sails, similar in shape to the bladder of the man o’ war. The Portuguese Man o’ War has a reputation for swarming in groups of thousands. It is also known for its powerful sting. Yes, very interesting animal, in my opinion. Has killed many in its time, I would say.”

Alex noted here how keen Darius Sayle was to killing, or in anyway causing harm. And then he began taking notes mentally, of how he spoke, how he ate, and how he did many things. And now Alex thought of his gadgets he had been given. The first had been of a yo-yo, with electrical wires. Then he had been given “zit-cream”, a product that would destroy metal. Finally, he had been given a games consoles, which would perform many investigation tasks. Now, he was certainly unsure on what really he had to do. Sabotage Herod’s plan, or just to report the plan to MI6? Well, it certainly depended on the severity of the problem, whether it needed fixing or not. Well, while it certainly seemed calm and peaceful, there had to be an explanation of the rather strange intervals of time where he would suddenly just go missing, missing to somewhere which there would be no explanation. So, Alex decided to check.

In his room, he took out his games console and switched it on. This resulted in three different options: bug detector, smoke screen and transmitter, which he hoped to use. Here, he took out the bug detector, and scanned it around the room, which resulted in many different and interesting results. Not only was there just one bug, there was two. And one bug was being used right now, in listening to anything he was saying. The device notified him that it was behind the moose head on the wall. As they couldn’t see him, all he did was he simply tapped the moose head, which resulted in some shouting he heard, on the other side of the wall. He smiled.

dudu

After thoroughly searching his room, he showered and got ready to sleep. His dinner was on his desk, but he didn’t eat it. He didn’t feel like it. He slid into the silken sheets and closed his eyes. But sleep didn’t come easy in the dead man’s bed.

Alex opened his eyes. It was only about five or six in the morning, but Alex couldn’t sleep anymore. He stared at the roof of the bed. Then he saw it. A sheet of paper tucked into the fabric. Nobody could see it unless they were lying in the bed, but of course, nobody had been in the bed since Ian Rider. In the end, Alex got it out by balancing a chair on the bed and grasping the corner of the note just before collapsing onto the bedding. It looked like a map, and there were coordinates on the bottom. Well, what he thought was coordinates. Under the ‘map’, there was a combination of letters and numbers. CL 475/19. It was small, but that was it. And it was definitely Ian Rider’s Handwriting or a very good forgery. Now, what to do with it?

After coming to his senses, he turned on the Nintendo Switch and opened the transmitter. He hurriedly grabbed a sheet of paper and hastily wrote,
FOUND THIS IN IAN RIDER’S ROOM. CAN YOU MAKE ANY SENSE OF IT?
He quickly sent the writing picture and the paper and turned off the Nintendo. He showered, letting the hot water pummel his back. After getting out of the shower, he brushed his teeth and hair and sat on his bed, killing a few minutes by playing on his Nintendo. Then, he heard a sharp rap on the door. He stretched, got up, and went to answer the door. A woman stood outside.

#Hei

It was Nadia Vole. In a thick German accent she claimed that Darius Sayle wanted him to not go in the stormbreaker room today. Alex decided he would want to take a visit to the library, where Ian Rider had been most. After he pulled on a bulletproof jacket Smithers had made for him, he headed out in the direction of the Port Tallon library. After about half an hour, when he was waking through a field of long grass, he heard a unearthly rumble. When he turned his head, 4 men on quad bikes rode toward him. He doubted they were giving him a ride back.

They pressed a button and like lightning, bullets mercilessly shot over Alex’s head. There were guns built into Sayle’s quads! He ducked into the long grass but array after array of bullets, eventually the men would find him. Suddenly, a glimpse of something metal caught his eye. It was a electrified razor wire fence! An idea jumped into Alex’s mind. He ran towards the razor wire, making enough sound for the quads to hear him and then ducked down back into the grass, crawling hastily on his knees. When he appeared again, at the wire, all 4 guards shot at him, taking each other out with the crossfire. Yes! The plan had worked.

When Alex finally reached the library, he showed the receptionist the slip of paper. She said that it was the shelf CL. When he reached the page, it said it was about Cornwall’s oldest mine, GTS. Alex thanked the receptionist and left the library in search of his new target. The mine…

#Bai

The mine, the mine. The mine had been under Darius’s place for a long time. Who knew what he had done with it? Could he have used it for whatever Stormbreaker was? So what he did, he went into an old train station and therefore had to climb into the mine via an old underground road that was unsafe and had left only a small space for him to enter and work out what was going on. But he wanted to debate whether to do it or not in his head before he actually tired it because it could be life-chaning and result in his early death — as Ian had said, it’s never too young to die. So he wasn;t so sure, at all about whether he should do it or not, for on one hand he migh find the solution or he might just die without ever finding the solution in his life. He wasn;t sure, but then, he should trust ian, because surely that was who he should trust. Ian had left the note, left the book, left the understanding of the knowledge, so surely he should trist Ian in this. Why shouldn;t he, for Ian had left him this, he had lived with Alex and had taken care of him when he wasn’t well. But Ian was the one who had placed him in this world of spies, enemies and secrecy, he was the one who had forced him to rain, by deceiving him and taking him on many holidays. Ian was the one who had cost himself his life and abandoned him just for an MI6 mission.

Well, he would think about it food a bit longer and later, for at that time there had been a couple of gun men who, in cars, were faster and stronger, and had better weapons that he, who had nothing and was fighting with his hands. They shot at him, narrowly missing him, and then went for him by hitting the grass at his feet. He started sprinting to the compound, Sayle’s place, and then jumped and ducked as further bullets flew at him and missed him again. He didn’t know what to do: would he head towards the compound, or would he go for the other place, or some other option? He looked around him. There was nothing he could do. Head for the library and they would blow it up. Head for the compound and there would be more gunsman. Head for the other space, there would be bullets chasing him down. And then he saw it. The obvious option. The lake.

dudududududududududududu

(im pretty sure that alex was supposed to play snooker and experience the stormbreaker)

After his ‘incident’ at the lake, Alex crawled back to Sayle Enterprises and went back to his room. He showered, partly because he felt like he was a cryogenics experiment and because he smelt like a dead rat. He went to bed and pretended that nothing had ever happened that afternoon.

The next day, he woke with a pounding headache. He had never drunk any alcohol in his life (except when he once tried champagne), so he had never been hungover, but he expected that this was what it felt like. Judging by the state he was in, he promised himself that he would never drink. Never. So, he got dressed and went about with his day. At roughly 8:30, there was another knock on his door. It was Nadia Vole again. Alex followed her out, trailing behind her as she went through the numerous corridors. Sayle’s house was like a maze. He wondered how Darius even managed to find his way.

After many turns and doors, they came to a door.
“We have four blocks here. Block A is where we are now; Block B is for software development; Block C is for research and storage, and Block D is where the main Stormbreaker assembly line is found.” Alex followed her through the door. He hadn’t eaten but seeing the Stormbreaker made him lose his train of thought. The i Mac may be sleek and beautiful, but the Stormbreaker had far surpassed it. It was a glossy black, except for an elegant lightning bolt printed on the side. Alex turned on the computer, marveling at its instant power. He could sense the energy radiating out of the computer. And to have one in every school? It was an amazing gift. He had to admit, Darius Sayle was a unique and generous man.

#Hei

For the next 3 hours, Alex busied himself in adventuring the different aspects of all the subjects the Stormbreaker possessed. After 3 hours, he hadn’t finished even a tenth of all subjects! He even made geometry slightly bearable, which Mr. Donovan could never master.

#Bai

Please Note: Your previous attempt to write only took you as far as 135 words — it has therefore been declared that you must write again after me. Also, My Vocabulary.com Profile.

The Stormbreaker was very interesting, Alex had to admit — the computer was very exciting, for it was terribly interesting, full of things he liked, yet was strange in itself. But Alex knew that whatever he had been sent here to do, he needed to do was to spy upon Herod Sayle. And so, he snuck out of the Stormbreaker room and headed towards the Section known as Section D, where all the Stormbreakers would be found, which would be disastrous, for if Herod Sayle were to input something inside the Stormbreakers, then he would input it there. That would be terrible, for if there were anything terrible to happen, it would be there. So, Alex snuck through all the guards and managed to find his way there.

Sneaking through, he saw three key things: one, that both Herod Sayle and Nadia Vole were there, two, that the Stormbreakers were being injected with some kind of liquid (greenish) that could be some kind of computer virus, three, that there was a vent that meant that it was possible to access the place so that he could take a closer look later, for he could see Nadia Vole coming out, to check on him, maybe? So, he exited the stairs and then pretended to be lost when she came. This would a terrible thing, but she just said, “Come with me, Alex. I see you got lost.”

The last two words could have shown that she knew what she was talking about: for those words were in a very sharp tone, an acerbic one, almost, which made Alex very scared indeed. So he followed her back to the Stormbreaker room, where he stared at the screen for a bit longer, learning his geometry (which apparently he hated, but actually loved (he didn’t know who in the name of the earth would say he hated geometry — he or she had to be lying)) and therefore got very fast progress. He knew, however, that he had to do one thing — he had to go into the mine and get to the place to work out exactly what they were doing. This would be a tricky task, for it would be hard to go through all of that just to see what was going on, but he only had a couple of days left in his stay, so he had to at least try and gain some certain amount of information.

#Hei

For the next 3 hours, Alex busied himself in adventuring the different aspects of all the subjects the Stormbreaker possessed. After 3 hours, he hadn’t finished even a tenth of all the subjects! He even made geometry slightly bearable, which Mr. Donovan could never master.

After three hours, Nadia Vole came and watched him for a while. Then she claimed that the stormbreaker was not a toy, and briskly left. After he had finished a rather realistic trip with a dinosaur in natural history, he decided it was time to find out what was really happening in GTS. He stealthily crept past the 2 guards that were guarding the doorway by letting off the bomber boy with his Nintendo and went sprinting into the fields where his book said GTS was. He crawled into the darkness. As he went down, he threw a rock that he had broken loose down into the abandoned mine shaft. It took ten minutes to hear a splash. Instantaneously, he imagined the hole of the setting… A deep cavern filled with slimy, freezing water. He saw himself drowning in the terrible cold, a torturous pain against his skin…

When Alex finally made it to the end of the last rung, he discovered that he was right – the mine shaft was completely submerged with water. Fortunately, Smithers had made him a pen that shot fireballs, and quickly grabbed a piece of dry wood that was used to hold up the mine. Then, he shot a fireball at the wood, giving himself a torch. Alex cried in desperation. The water stretched on for further than the eye could see and in the freezing cold of the water, he would most certainly perish. Searching for anything that he could use, he found a wet suit, left by Ian Rider. Helped by the dead man.

Gritting his teeth, he maneuvered his way through the hellish hole, twisting and winding through the freezing pain of cold.

dudududududududududududududududududu

Pull, kick. Pull, kick. Pull, kick. Alex had been underwater for less than a minute now, but already his lungs were straining from the lack of air. Pull, kick. Pull, kick. The wet suit was uncomfortably baggy on his thin frame, but it would keep the water out. By the time he had gotten to dry land, the suit was plastered to his body. He unzipped it and threw it on the floor. It hit the floor with a wet thud. He had been right, though. The wet suit had kept the water out, but his hair, face, and feet were soaked. Whenever he took a step, there would be a loud wet slapping sound, so he took off his trainers and shook out all the water. Now, on into the dark tunnel.

He followed Ian Rider’s sketch through the tunnel. All he had to do was follow the light. Step, step, step, step. He walked into another intersection, following where the light was brightest. The light was so intense that he could actually make out specific colors and shapes. He followed the light, checking every once and again that there was nobody behind him. He turned a corner and was suddenly face-to-face with a metal grille.

The light that had guided Alex was spilling out of the grille, and it came to Alex that the mine must have been converted into some fancy new air conditioning system. Alex looked through the grille. It was a large laboratory with complicated glass windows and sophisticated metal implements strewn across the desks. He pulled at it, but it was secured firmly into the rock face. He looked at the second grille, but it led into the same room and securely attached to the rock. He looked at the third grille, and it led into a room with silver cases stacked cautiously on top of each other.

#Hei

He had no strength left whatsoever for pulling out the grille, and Alex checked his gadgets. It was all for self-defense, and had nothing to break into buildings. If he was going to do this y brute force, he was going to have to gain his power before he could pull it out. However, the only way in or out of the white room was back through the freezing, endless tunnel, and he had not the stamina to swim back through. But first, get warm. Then, he remembered. the pen that Smithers gave him shot fireballs, and that would mean warmth, and if it was hot enough, able to melt through the grille. Alex snatched a piece of kindling from the structure of the mine shaft, ignited it and warmed his clothes, hair, feet and socks and shoes, to make sure that if he was caught, it would look like he came from the entrance, not GTS.

Slowly, he aimed the pen at the wrought iron grille, closed his eyes and pressed on the thrust device. He felt the blazing heat rush beside him and the molten iron drip to the ground. he could not know his elation. Had he really done it? Him, at 14, on his first mission, had he really sabotaged Darius Sayle’s main operation? He was about to find out. As he crawled flat on his stomach, his serious brown eyes searching through the pristine white room, he realized. He realized what Alan Blunt had told him was all true, because the containers were labelled R-5. A virus in the book about viruses in the library. The description was clear in his head. It resembles smallpox, but is much deadlier, much more potent and will kill within hours of the infection. It is artificially made as an airborne disease and can be hidden in any object. Normally, for murder, it is contaminated in computers and such.

Instinctively, he leapt off the cupboard he was crawling on, which was a huge mistake. Then, with a heavy heart, Alex sent fireball in every direction,the flames licking up as if it were a excited puppy being offered a treat. They pounced and clawed and the human, loving the smell of death and torture, craving the smell of roasted flesh. Alex cried out in horror, for a R-5 container fell from the holder. A man called out Gregorovitch and a muscular man, with a dancer like body threw himself over the floor. He caught it at the crucial moment, and as the smoke filled the room, Alex bolted towards the exit. He was free!

#Bai

But Alex was never free. He cursed the person that said that he was free. It was ridiculous. How could he be free? Why did anyone say he was free. It was really, really shockingly bad. Why would anyone think he was free. In fact, he vowed to kill the person who said that he was free. How could he have been free? He was still trapped inside the inside the compound, and therefore he had to escape. How could he though? He knew that Sayle was using R-5, but it was not a deadly virus. Of course, it wasn’t a deadly virus. Alex knew that, of course. But it was just the person, the incorrect person who said it was deadly. Realistically, it was detrimental. It was absolutely horrible, he knew that, and it would slay anybody who used it. It was too deadly to even be harnessed by a human, for it was as superior as the gods, for only the gods could inflict such a terrible thing upon the humans of the world, for it was just horrible, just horrible to even contemplate, for it was so disastrous that he could not even imagine it inside his head, for it was really too evil to think about. If he even thought about it, he thought he would burst into tears due to that.

It was terrible to even imagine that he could escape from the place when he had thrown his pen-blaster thingy into a can of R-5, which was not a deadly virus but a detrimental, a horribly detrimental one. On second thoughts, he thought he perhaps had never even had his pen-blaster thingy, for his brain had never picked it up before, for he had never even thought about the fact that he had had one, which was surprising, for he thought that he hadn’t had one, but clearly, he hadn’t hadn’t had one, which was that meant that he had one, for it was very easy to think that he hadn’t had one, for it clearly seemed that no one had told him that he had had one. Anyway, he still hadn’t figured out how to escape, escape Sayle, without allowing his own identity to began clear for him, which would be a challenging task, to say the least. He had no idea, for it seemed he had already made his identity very clear, to whoever wanted to search for him.

dudududududududududududududu

He turned around tentatively. He could sense a presence behind him, almost shrouding him. Mr Grin’s mutilated smile from which he had earned his name was the last thing he saw before the man’s fist hit him square on the jaw.

When he finally gained consciousness again, he had the sense to examine his surroundings. He was in a cube room, handcuffed to a radiator. He was sure Smithers’ zit cream would have burned through the steel of the handcuffs, but his hands were too far away. The most annoying fact was he could feel the cream, the bottle in his trouser pocket, yet he still could not reach it. It would have driven him to insanity, trapped with the key in his pocket, just mere centimetres separating his hands and the cream.

He gave up after a few minutes. His back was screaming, his head pounding, and his face swollen where Mr Grin had hit him. His arms were plaited behind him, but this was all insignificant compared to the date of that day. It was the 1st of April, the day the Stormbreakers would be released. And Alex? He would be stuck in that room, helpless as world chaos would be unleashed. Darius was the trickster, and Alex was the April Fool.

Mr Grin came after what seemed like an eternity. The handcuffs restraining him were unlocked, and his hands were free. He stood up, despite the agony blazing in his back, and followed Mr Grin out the door.

He was led to one of the numerous rooms in Sayle’s house. It was the room with the aquarium in it, the one where Alex and Sayle had played snooker. It was surprising how long ago that seemed, yet it had only been a day. There was a high-backed chair in the room, and Alex was to sit in it. Once he was seated, Mr Grin handcuffed his hands together. Again, that dreaded position. It looked like things would only get worse.

#Hei

After a short time period, Sayle came inside the room. He surveyed Alex briefly before breaking into speech. “I told you that your uncle was spending a lot of time in the library, and we sent men after you. However, you evaded 4 men with machine guns built into their quads. We knew exactly how and why you went to the shelf CL because when Ian Rider placed it there, we were watching. And do you know how?”

Alex shook his head.

Sayle muttered and cursed. ” All English schoolboys are like that. Lazy and ignorant. Mr grin will show you.”

As Sayle clicked his fingers, Mr Grin strolled to the snooker table and slid the top off. Inside, it was filled with televisions with what was going on at all times. Sayle showed him a few recordings which Alex remembered. He knew there were two bugs, but he had never thought one would be spying at his screen. It had been easy to figure out that Alex had been an agent. He noticed one of the recordings was when he went to the library. When the librarian told him that Ian Rider had searched up viruses. How everyone that had helped him ended up dead.

“If you want to know, indeed, the R-5 is and deadly virus, and when the first bout out idiotic children try out the Stormbreaker, they will be infected! Of course, to prevent suspection, we have made it so that exactly, 91 days after they have tried the Stormbreaker, the will show the symptoms. And since R-5 is an artificial virus, there is no cure.”

Alex knew he had to get out of the madman’s house, but Nadia Vole was sent to watch over him. About a minute after Grin and Sayle had gone, she unlocked the handcuffs and silently ushered Alex up into her office. Then, she leaned on one of the statues. Bam! A trapdoor fell and Alex clung onto the sides of the opening. It dropped into the tank with the fish!

#Bai

@hei, I’m having difficulties understanding what you are writing. E.g. Take this sentence. “Of course, to prevent suspection, we have made it so that exactly, 91 days after they have tried the Stormbreaker, the will show the symptoms.” I simply do not understand the meaning of “suspection”, nor do I understand “the will”. Moreover, why did you say that Alex dropped in the tank with the fish? I assume you mean jellyfish.

Alex had not been dropped in with a fish. No, he had not. He didn’t understand, as Darius had told him before that it had been a Portuguese Man o’ War — he recalled Sayle had told him that the Portuguese man o’ war was a Cnidarian invertebrate (basically a jellyfish). It lived in the sea. It is sometimes called the blue bubble, or man-of-war. Its common name comes from a Portuguesewar ship of the 15th and 16th centuries. The ship had triangular sails, similar in shape to the bladder of the man o’ war. The Portuguese Man o’ War has a reputation for swarming in groups of thousands. It is also known for its powerful sting. So, Alex knew he was doomed, but, Mr Sayle had made a mistake, and that mistake would be the end of his life, for Sayle had cut off his ropes in order to watch him attempt to escape from the jellyfish, which would be very strange, just to allow himself some fun. Still. Alex could not believe that someone had been saying that there was a fish inside, for there was clearly no fish inside, there was only a jellyfish. This was not, clearly not a fish. It was blatantly a jellyfish. How could have someone made a mistake of that? It was very baffling, almost too baffling for him to imagine that that was even possible, for how was it possible? It was preposterous to even think like that, for who would have even thought that that was even possible. Anyway, he pulled out his zit-cream and swiped some upon the metal ridges on the bottom, and about three seconds later, the metal fell apart, and all the water flowed, and the jellyfish somehow managed to end on Sayle’s assistant’s head, and she suffered a painful death, for the Portuguese man o’ war was deadly and somehow murdered it. But Alex did not know what to do next, for the apartment had been flooded, and he now had information: about what Sayle was to do, for he would try and murder every single child in London just for his delight, and now he really understood how evil Sayle was.

dudu

Okay, so now that he had escaped almost certain death, he needed to find an exit and go back to London. But it was already eleven a.m., one hour until the Stormbreakers would release the virus. And, considering where he was in Cornwall, about five hours away from South Kensington. In the midst of his thoughts, he heard a sputter and roar of a propeller. Looking out from the nearest window, he saw a cargo plane. A cargo plane! Yes. If Alex could just get on there… No. He couldn’t reach. He would never get there in time. He couldn’t even find his way out, and already the plane was taking off. He ran, hoping against almost certain odds. The plane was already about a metre off the runway, and there were about five kilometres of runway between them. He wasn’t going to get there in time.

He swung himself into a monster Jeep and started to drive. He knew how to do this; Ian Rider had taught him as soon as his legs could reach the pedals. He pushed the poor car to full acceleration, the wheels straining against the ground. He just then remembered the yo-yo Smithers had given him. He grabbed it, slamming the end of the cord onto the metal stud on his belt, feeling it click as it was designed. He had taken a harpoon gun that was lying around and had loaded it, not wanting to kill someone, only to get into the plane. He tied the yo-yo around the bolt of the harpoon and rested the gun on his lap as he got closer to the plane. It was only about two metres in the air and a few metres away from him. He took the harpoon gun and fired.

It flew well, embedding itself in the underbelly of the plane. Alex could feel himself being torn from the Jeep, and for a heartbeat, he was dangling under the plane, a good forty to fifty metres in the air. He had done it.

#Bai

And then he thought about all the painful events that had occurred for him to be on this plane, or should we say dangling from the plane, which he doubted anyone had said before. From two kilometres away, Yassen Gregorovich muttered something like, “Interesting.” Meanwhile, Alex was still dangling from the plane, and he threw himself upwards, grabbed onto the poles on the bottom, and hauled himself onto the floor of the cargo part of the plane. Finally, he climbed upwards and there he was, in the plane, safe and sound, having just literally dangled from a plane. There he pulled out the pen he was given that had an end with a serum that would allow them to listen to you for about eight hours, which would be very beneficial if he wanted to get to London quickly, and so he managed to get Mr Grin to take him all the way to the Science Museum, which is where he believed all the invitations and the start of the ceremony was taking place, which he had to stop, or it would result in his demise and the demise of many others, and so he asked Mr Grin to drop him off at the top of the Science Museum and then to simply destroy the plane and to kill himself also.

He took a parachute and without even thinking, launched himself off of the plane, and almost immediately, pulled the strip to allow himself to float gently through the air, and eventually land on the roof of the Science Museum, after which he took off the parachute, and started moving towards the door: of which there was none. And therefore he had no idea what to do, put back on his parachute and jumped off the Science Museum, and broke the glass of the side where he could see Darius Sayle, who was still making a speech about the education of British schoolchildren, which was clearly false, as he babbled on about going to school with the Prime Minister and how he had cared for the education of the schoolchildren, which he clearly did not, as he was planning to genocide all of the schoolchildren in ninety-one days (thirteen weeks). Alex knew that once he had hit the button, everything was over for the entirety of Britain, maybe even the world. Alex had to stop all that, and so he did the only thing he could, and jumped and smashed the window of the Science Museum — and saw Mr Blunt and Mrs Jones, staring at him, and nodded at him. And among the guards that were there, there was a familiar face, that of an SAS soldier. He mouthed at him of the word gun. And with that, he knew could not shoot Sayle, or the whole world would be after him, and so the only thing he could was obliterate the button, which he did so with three clicks of the gun.

Sayle only glared at Alex, and did the only thing he could after his precisely articulated plan was destroyed was to run away, away, far away.

Hei#

But Sayle had not run. He had smashed his fist against the Prime Minister’s nose and snatched a gun from FOX, an agent from the SAS and held down on the trigger. Alex could feel the power of the relentless arrays of the bullets whistling past his head. He emptied his gun himself, hitting Sayle in the arm and causing him to scram like his life depended on it, because it did. When Sayle had run, the Prime Minister taken to hospital and all the audience evacuated, Alex drifted to the ground, as soft as a feather. Mrs. Jones and Alan Blunt rushed over to him, Mrs. Jones’ face filled with anxiety and Blunt, as always, emotionless. Mrs. Jones hurried up to him, her face now as pale as a sheet. “I think you’d better come with us. You have a lot to explain.” Blunt retorted monotonously in his usual voice and he was ushered to the MI6 headquarters on Gallbladerpol Street.

“What have you found out, Alex?” inquired Mrs. Jones.

” Darius Sayle in a criminal. He set R-5, a deadly virus in the Stormbreaker that would act like deadly smallpox in exactly 91 days. Why, because he was bullied at school by the Prime Minister and he wants revenge. I also know that you have manipulated me about the Stormbreaker. Next time you ask me to go on another mission, I’ll refuse. I thought you were true people who wanted to help me. Now I know your nature.” Alex rapidly strode out the room, calling a TAXI and jumping in. He had no idea of the danger before him.

dudu

He jumped into the taxi, not giving a second thought about his safety. After the mission, he had taken security for granted. But he was getting suspicious, and that all was confirmed when the driver took a left instead of a right. He was confused at first, thinking the driver had taken a wrong turn, but then he spoke. The driver turned around, holding a gun. He was white and gaunt, but still, impossibly, Darius Sayle. And he was holding a gun. A loaded gun. A loaded gun pointed straight at his head. His face was drawn with the pain of defeat. The venom was written all over his face, ugly and merciless.

” If you move, you bliddy child, you will get shot. If you speak, you will get shot. If you do anything apart from my orders, you will get shot. Understand?” Herod snarled. Alex merely nodded. They turned around, away from Chelsea, to the city. They arrived at a building, a giant skyscraper. Alex stared at it in awe before looking down again. If he did that, Darius would get annoyed and shoot him. Well, Darius was probably planning to shoot him anyway, or Alex wouldn’t have taken the risk of driving up to the ‘Royal & General’ main entrance. He was dead meat.

They went up to the twenty-ninth floor. The glass elevator glided upwards, showing Alex a peripheral view of the city. It was beautiful, the sight. He may as well enjoy it as he could. They got to the roof in a matter of seconds.

“How did you beat me? How did you do it? How did you trick me? I would have beaten you if you were a man, but you are a bliddy schoolboy!”

#Bai

Now, Alex was in a huge degree of trouble. What should he do to escape the wrath of Sayle? One thing he did know was that Sayle was filled with anger and hatred, and that would certainly benefit him in many ways, for anger would simply blind him and make him unaware of the dangers of such things: for example Alex. What he did not know was that Alex still had his very powerful gadgets and that he could use them to his advantage. For example, the Zit-Cream would be effective. But he still didn’t know where Sayle was going, until he saw the building in front of them — Sayle Enterprises. That would be the place for the backup starting of the Stormbreakers, which would result in a lot of deaths in precisely 91 days (thirteen weeks — Alex now knew why the 91 days was such an important measurement to have. Everything was planned to the smallest detail, and the impressive part was that Alex had just strolled in as a schoolboy, and ruined everything, everything even killed both of Sayle’s assistants. Alex had even murdered Sayle’s Portuguese Man O’ War. How on earth had he managed to do that. Sayle kept the gun pointed at him, and Alex really didn’t know what to do. The gun was within hand’s reach, but Sayle would not let him touch the gun, of course. Alex devised a clever plan.

He took a bit of Zit-Cream and smeared it on the barrel. A quick smear and the gun had been destroyed to acid, and the acid had burnt Sayle’s hand. He looked at the gun, or what remained of it, and he knew he had been defeated again.

“This is all your bliddy damn fault!”

“Well, it would help if you weren’t trying to kill the whole of the UK.”

“It’s the bliddy Prime Minister’s fault. If he hadn’t bullied me in all my time at school, from the time I joined in Year 7, he called me names, called me different things and hurt me every single day.”
“It still doesn’t mean you should kill people.”

“You don’t understand. From the day I finished school, I wanted revenge, revenge for the people who had teased me. So I devised this plan, because all the blame would go on the Prime Minister. It was so clever, until you came along and ruined everything, everything I had done.”

Hei#

There was a surge of utmost loathing in Sayle’s eyes and anger, frustration and defeat took over him.” I cannot kill all of Britain, but I can slay an idiotic schoolboy like you( Bai is a idiotic schoolboy) and with one swift push he leaned forward. However, Alex was ready for this and rapidly, he roundhouse kicked Darius in the stomach and sent him flying through the air until he was hanging on a iron slab on the side of Sayle enterprises. Alex sighed and leaned over the sid, smearing the zit cream all over the bar. Sayle fell and as he was falling, he screeched ” SCORPIA will crush you!” and he smashed against the ground, the broken body of a man and the civilians around white with shock. Sayle’s body was escorted away and he went home and turned on the television, watching happily as Chelsea crush Manchester United 90-0.

dudu

(to hei: is this the end of the whole story?)