Chapter 10- Welcome to the new and improved, Grammar Friendly version of this book. (Thanks to Seth and Steph)

While we bere being held hostage, I had planned to talk to Rich about his problems while formulating an escape plan. Something like, "How does that make you feel? Oh, and attack that gaurd on the count of three."
Of course, when you're bound and gagged, it's more like you squirming around and saying, "Rwwwrwwwrwrrrwrrwwwrrwrrwrwrwrwrwr."
So, that is what happened. Sometime around an hour later, I don't know excactly, the completely not ominous black van we were in, stopped, and the guy who took us from our base grabbed Richie by his hair, and me by his collar. I'm sure this was very scary for Rich, because the guy was a lot taller than him, but for me, when a fat guy around my height with shaving cuts all over his face grabs you by the collar, you have to try very hard to stifle a chuckle.
He dragged us to the prison cell, which was just an unfurnished, crappy bedroom with no windows. He had pulled up most of the carpet, except for two little spaces for us to sleep on. I couldn't believe it. We had helped stop professional military organizations, (Alex Rider's got nothing on us) yet we managed to get captured single-handedly by a chubby dunce.
After a few days of eating food so bad the dumpster's special behind KFC looks like some five star buffet to someone who's a vegetarian, and water was so dirty and dry, I could have sworn I was drinking sand, the chub-o marched us off to his interrogation room, which was excactly like our "cell", but with no carpet and a spotlight in the middle. He started with Richie. " What do you know about Project NightCannon?" He stood still as if expecting a reply, as though Richie didn't have a cloth wrapped around his mouth. He realized this, and removed it. he repeated the question; What do you know about Project NightCannon?"
"I'll never tell!" Richie barked back. I could tell Richie was lying. He didn't know anything about Project Whatever it was.
"Oh yeah?" Replied the fat man as he slapped Richie across the face. Blood trickled out of his mouth as Rich replied,
"Let's see how coy you are with my foot in your mouth!"
"Kid, if you're gonna be dramatic, get it right. It's 'With your foot in your mouth.'"
"Not this time..." Mumbled Richie as he kicked the dude in the face.
Time To Get Out!

Chapter 9

"Put some of that in the microwave for me, will ya?" I asked Richie. "Whatever..." he mumbled. Huh. That's not the kind of thing he would usually say. It'd usually be more along the lines of, "Wow, Jonah! You would let me do that for you? Oh my god, thank you so much!" He's sarcastic like that. As I was eating my spaghetti, I remembered his half-hearted remark. "What's troubling you, Rich?" I asked. "It's my parents." he replied. "But, you're an orphan." I stated. "Exactly!" He pointed at me with his fork, flinging a few noodles on to my face. "We'll have to consider this conversation over for now, boys." said the assassin who had just appeared behind Rich with a Sig Sauer 10mm silenced pistol pointed at his head. Huh... WAIT A MINUTE!!!!

Chapter 8

After I thanked the guys in desert camo dropping me off at the helipad conviently located about 3 miles north of my hideout, Richie pulled up in some kind of segway(or however you spell it) looking thing. I eyed it, and he looked at me with a sly smile. "I've just always wanted to ride wunna these, ya know?" He said. Richie is a guy who's about 5''6', very thinly built, with a mop of dirty blonde, shoulder length hair like a curtain around his head. If you look closely, or so I've been told by his most recent ex-girlfriend, he's got a tiny stubble on his chin. I'm talking like, you might be able to see it if you hold his chin under a microscope, maybe. He's always wearing a plain T-Shirt under a short sleeved plaid jacket, loose and unbottoned. If, you're looking for a reference, picture Kurt Cobain, on really short and with bad singing skills. I'm 5''8', and I'm more muscularly built than Jonah, too. I've got short, light brown hair.If I'm not in shrunken army fatigues, then I'll usually be wearing a hoodie and T-Shirt, with some ripped jeans and tennis shoes. "Up for some sparring?" I asked. Instead of speaking, he replied with a roundhouse kick I blocked with my forearm. I brought up my knee to, well, knee him, but he did a back handspring, then charged at me with his shoulder. He knocked me onto my back, but I rolled, turned, and ran towards the wall. He gave chase. As I neared the wall, I ran up it two steps the flung my left leg out in a spinning kick. He did some kind of crazy how-low-can-you-go back bend, so my leg flew over his head. "That all you got?" He taunted. "You wish" I called. As we continued our fight for another few minutes, a sleek black car pulled up beside us. As the passenger got out, I said, "what's up, boss?" "Some sparring, I see." Blade, who's name I had figured out, said. "I bet we could whoop you!" Richie challenged. We charged, but Blade caught Richie's fist with his left hand, flipped him, and did the same for me in his right. "Oh, you kids," he sighed with a shake of his head.

Chapter 7

Okay. He's down. I reach for my headset that isn't there. Right. Oh, well. I'm on my own. Good news, though, they didn't notice the 6 and a half inch knife hidden in my boot. As I near the door, I hear gibberish coming through. Sounds middle Eastern. S**t, now I gotta deal with some kind of clones AND terrorists. As I peek through the door, I see there are 2 guys. One's holding a Desert Eagle standard issue military sidearm, while the other is resting his elbow on an AK-47 Assault Rifle. Now, any normal 12 year old would be shaking is his converse sneakers, but not me. Not Jonah Lagunaz, a kid who's already fluent in English, French, and German. Not a kid who's already certified to be a United States Special Forces Unit as well as a British S.A.S. Officer. So, I did what any kid like me would do. I threw my voice to outside their door in English, "Soldiers! Storm the house on 3! 1! 2! 3!" They oth turned to face the door, so I rushed forward, grabbed the shoulder stock of the AK-47, clubbed one guy in the head, and unleashed a burst of fire on the other guy. Aha! THere's my headset, on the dresser. I scan for a signal, detect a U.S. military outpost a few miles out, and call for some assistance. A few minutes later, I'm sure the guys who pulled up in a military chopper weren't expecting a 12 year old with a gun slung over his shoulder. Ha.

Chapter 6.1-12 Years old

Okay. Let's make a list.
1. I'm in a dark basement/dungeon
2.My head is throbbing, possibly bleeding.
3.I... Ah, nevermind!
Basically, I'm f**ked. Or am I? I crawl to the staircase that I was tossed down into, and find a hard stick. The staircase has an open bottom, so, when I hear footsteps, I grab the stick, get under the stairs, and, as they say in England, stapped the crap out of the assailant's ankles. More Later

Chapter 5-Ten Years Earlier

All right. So, If he went down this corridor, the only escape would be on the southeast entrance. I take a shortcut and pick up the nearset weapon I see, a pistol. I weigh it in my hand, then adjust the sights as i jog forward. When I finish, I slide it in my belt, and call for backup. "Hey, Rich?" I ask over the headset I'm wearing. "Yeah?" He responds. "Come to the big bush on the south side of the training place. Bring your knock-out dart sniper rifle." I finish as I jump off a railing, swing across a hanging sign, and land in a roll behind the thug. He takes off, but only after he throws a few words my direction. Boy, am I glad I'm wearing my sweat pants, as well as a zip-up hoodie over my T-shirt. I throw the hoodie in a nearby tree and continue to vhase him.

Chapter 4- Ten Years Later

Duck! Juke! Back handspring! I do a quick jab to one thug's chest and a sweep kick to another's calf. I smirk as they get up. "Go ahead. See if I care." I say as they trip over themselves. Then, of course, I take out my shotgun. I think you know what happens next, so I'll leave the bloodbath out of this. "Another set of clones down, cap." I say to my captain. "Good" He responds. "Head back to base. But give the abandoned factory over to your north a look first." He finishes. I send him a 10-4 signal. "Hey, Rich?" I ask my childhood friend. "Yeah?" He questioned. "Get me my sub-machine gun." I order. "That all?" He asks. "No. Get my sunlasses."