Thaboss had to write a short story for an English assignment. This was it. He's not a good writer, he never learned anything about writing stories. He just wants advice/criticism to make it better. It's kind of using characters from the Alex Rider series. (Alex, Scorpia, and possibly Nile.) It's kind of in the future.
Alex stared at the paper disbelievingly. It could not be possible. After twenty-six years, he had begun to think that Scorpia had forgotten about him. Request for parole through the government were all very well if he had been just a normal hiker picked up in Iran for âspying,â but in his case, their accusations had been correct. This was no normal government arrest, either. It was secret, hidden. He doubted that even The Supreme Leader of Iran knew that he existed. But whoever had arrested him, the ones with the high-tech body suits that had deflected all his attempts at hurting them, had quickened their speed, gave them superhuman strength, and sped up their reflexes, they knew who he was. They knew what he had come to do. And they had been able to stop him. Until now, that was. He read the paper again.
Be awake at one oâclock. Instructions for escape route will be given then.

It was so very confusing. He knew the note was genuine, because of the scorpion. Their sign. How would they get the instructions to him? He knew it would not be the same as the first note, found in his daily bread at lunchtime. A person? The prison, as far as he knew, was impregnable. All escape attempts he had seen had been foiled before they had even started. Once, a battalion of tanks and men had come. Alex remembered seeing them in the distance, hoping it was his chance at freedom. Then the missile came, streaking from the sky, destroying all the people in its radius, the shockwave ripping everything else to shreds. The bodies of men probably forced to march by another countryâs government, in the hopes of freeing just one important man, flying up into the sky like so many rag dolls. It was as if he could hear their screams from the miles that separated them. The images were seared into his brain, accompanying all the others from missions past. But no more. He believed to be stuck in the complex forever.
âBANG, BANG, BANG!â Alex jumped, and hastily stowed the note away in his pocket. It was only the nightly guard knocking on the cellblock door. Alex had not realized how much time had passed. âLights out in five minutes! Lay on your cot and sleep!â he shouted. Alex dutifully went over to his cot. He settled into it, knowing he would not sleep. He could not tell exactly what time it was, for there were no clocks, but he knew lights out was around eleven oâclock from experience. He had two hours to wait. He lay very still, sometimes counting the seconds, sometimes not.
Eventually, a man fizzled into existence in his cell. Alex smiled. The man smiled back, flashing dazzling pure white teeth. He was dark-skinned, with slacks, a long-sleeved button down white shirt, and an emerald green tie. He put one finger to his lips, indicating silence. He stood in the corner. Alex just stared, confused. Another man appeared thirty seconds later, this one wearing a uniform. The first man stepped behind him and gasped. The second man looked around quickly. âThereâs something on your face!â said the first man. He punched him in said face. âIt was PAIN!â he then roared, as the uniformed man slid to the ground, dead. âWhat the he-,â Alex began, but the man clamped a hand over his mouth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a small TV remote. In fact, on closer inspection, it WAS a TV remote. The man pressed the âMuteâ button. He nodded. âI knew he would come thirty seconds early, to kill me you see, so I came a minute earlier,â he pronounced in a perfectly calm voice. He pulled something off the dead manâs belt and put it in his pocket. He then pressed another button on the remote control and the body vaporized. âYou are escaping tomorrow.â âButâ¦â Alex stammered, âButâ¦â He still could not find the words, for, after so long in solitary confinement, he did not know how to react to someone speaking to him. âYes?â the man said gently. He found words to enunciate. âIf they knew about the note and you coming here, doesnât that mean that your plan, whatever it was, has already been uncovered?â âAh,â the man exclaimed, âbut thatâs the thing about this place. It is so secretive, that no one knows what anyone else is up to. To keep secrets. If one person knew everything, that person could be captured, and that information compromised. But here, all the information is spread around, and it is up to them to know what they need to know and forget what they do not. It is a good tactic, but in cases like this, it works to our advantage. Itâs likely that this man was the only one who knew about it.â âOh,â Alex muttered. âWell then. How do I escape?â
âGlad we got back to that. You will be using this teleporter.â He tossed the object he had taken from the man to Alex. It was an older, cheaper remote control. âAt noon tomorrow (the remote has a tiny digital display) press â1000 N.â It will take you one thousand meters due north. There will be a truck waiting. Get in it.â âWhy canât you just take me with you?â Alex complained. âDoesnât work that way. Teleporters are one person only,â the man rebuked. âThen Iâll use this one! Just tell me what buttons to press!â Alex was getting frustrated. He just wanted to escape the place. âYour teleporter is a weak low-powered one. Our base is hundreds of thousands of miles away. Only my teleporter is strong enough, and it is the only one. So no coming back with a second,â he finished, stalling Alexâs next question. He had different ones though. âWhy couldnât you have gotten a truck to be here now? What would you have done if the other man hadnât shown up?â âI purposefully allowed the man to discover the note. I easily could have contacted you a different way. Again, because the man knew something was happening, he put the wall guards on high alert, searching for any sign of anything foreign in this desert,â the man explained. âAlright,â Alex said, his questions satisfied. âIâll do it. Iâm ready,â he exclaimed. âToodles,â the man said, as he smiled, waved, and vanished.
Alex lay wide-awake for the rest of the night, fingering the device before him, being careful not to press any buttons. The first light of dawn crept onto the steel sides of the fortress, although Alex could not see it. He sat, thinking. No longer would he have to be confined to this box. No longer would he have to live on bread and water, served at noon each day. He knew that was why he would have to do it at noon. While all the guards were either delivering the food to the prisoners, or eating themselves, there would be fewer lookouts, and they would be distracted, hungry. He would be free.
At 11:59, Alex stood up. He hovered his finger over the remote. He was ready. The numbers changed. 12:00. Alex punched in â1000 N,â making sure he did not make a mistake. Instantly, he was in the middle of a desert. The bright sun blinded him. He was disoriented, confused. Rough hands dragged him into what must have been the promised truck. Once inside, he could see it was a Humvee with tinted windows. The man from the night before was driving. He smiled his teeth again, almost as blinding as the sun outside. âNice to see you again!â he cheerily shouted, as he gunned the accelerator. Alex nodded in return. He twisted around in his seat. Behind them was the huge form of the prison that had once held him. Although it was a kilometer away, it still looked massive. Tiny forms burst from it, getting larger alarmingly fast. âWeâre being followed!â Alex shouted. âI know,â said the man. âWeâll probably outrun them.â âProbably?â Alex screamed, disbelievingly. The man ignored him, concentrating on driving. He pressed a button on the dashboard. A jet of white-hot fire burst from the back of the Humvee. The world blurred. The man slammed on the brakes, and everything came back into focus. There was a small jet plane waiting right in front of them. They leapt out of the truck and sprinted over to the plane. Alex and the man jumped into the cockpit, Alex in the co-pilotâs seat. The trucks were very close now. âTake off!â Alex screamed. âThe planeâs still heating up,â the man said through gritted teeth. Bullets pinged off the fuselage. The plane slowly started taxiing down the desert. Alex saw one man in a truck raise a rocket launcher, aiming it at one of the engines. âUp, up!â Alex shouted ineffectually. âWhat?â yelled the man, the engineâs roaring drowning out any words. âLike the movie!â Alex screamed. He saw the man pull the trigger, saw the wicked smile on his face, and knew it was all over. Strangely though, the man seemed to be getting smaller, the rocket petering off in the distance. With a start, Alex realized what had happened. They had taken off. He was free.
