He stood over the fallen man, and tried to figure out what had just happened. The last four seconds had been a blur of motion. One second, he'd been racing straight towards the business end of a huge gun, and now. . .well, the gunman was laid out on the floor.

His heart was pounding in his chest as adrenaline raced through his veins. He had just merely reacted. Pushed the gun up and away - the bullet had pierced the ceiling harmlessly - and shoved a fist into the man's throat.

And that was that.

Alex crouched by the fallen gunman. He drifted a hand over the man's mouth and nose, and felt nothing, not even the faintest puffs of air. The man was dead. He reeled back on his heels, his stomach flipping over itself. With the man's throat smashed in like it was, that was only to be expected.

He stared at the dead man for a moment, before giving himself a mental shake. Stop it. Don't waste time here. You killed a bad guy, so get on with it. Swallowing, he leaned forward, and proceeded to quickly search the man. Besides the big semi-automatic gun, there was an extra two clips of ammo, and a giant, wickedly-curved knife. There was no form of ID, nothing to give away even a hint of who he was, or where he was from.

Alex gave up on trying to find any answers for the moment, and removed the small earpiece that the man wore. Some kind of wireless communication device - it might shed some light on the whole situation.

Alex slipped the earpiece over his own ear, then grabbed the extra clips of ammo. He shoved them into his pocket. The big knife was rather unwieldy, but it might come in handy, so he slipped it into the back of his pants, hiding it in the small of his back. Finally, he grabbed the heavy gun. Thankfully, it came with a shoulder strap, and he proceeded to sling the weapon over a shoulder and against his back.

Now he was ready. Though, he hoped he wouldn't have to use the gun.

He dragged the man back down the hall, and into the lavatory, where he propped him up on a toilet. It would keep the body out of the way, for now. Going back out into the halls, he carefully checked both ways. Nothing.

All right, best place to go to get answers would be the gymnasium. But he very well couldn't waltz in the front doors. Better to take a more. . .indirect route. Alex turned down a different hallway, his steps quick, but totally silent. He was slightly crouched over, one hand resting on the gun behind him, just in case.

The earpiece crackled faintly. Alex moved on, moving down the halls one after the other, heading for a certain lavatory. The one he was thinking of was connected to the gym. And the set up was perfect. Inside the gymnasium, a partial, five-foot tall wall extended out of the corner, concealing the entrances to the lavatories. If all went well, he should be able to get out there, and get some idea of what was going on.

If all went well.

He neared the last corner, and suddenly stopped. A male voice had just grumbled to himself around corner. Alex looked for something to throw in order to grab the other's attention. There wasn't much. The floors had just been cleaned, resulting in shiny, object-freeness.

Great, now I gotta do this the hard way. The teenaged spy let out a loud, pitiful moan. It did the job.

"Who's there?" A man's gruff voice called out. Alex kept quiet. The man mumbled something under his breath, and came around the corner.

Alex caught a glimpse of black clothing, and an unfamiliar face. He reacted accordingly. The man never saw the foot that flew up into his face. He fell like a sack of potatoes, completely out of it.

Taking a step back, Alex saw that he had just taken down another gunman. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this whole thing. He sighed.

The next few minutes were involved with tying the man up with rope found in a conveniently nearby janitor's closet. The man also was locked inside with the mops and brooms. But not after Alex threw the gun, completely disassembled, into the trash can.

The teenager went on towards his destination, which was just down the hall. Two bad guys were down, now. So just how many were there? What exactly was going on, here? Gunmen in a school. Either some kind of army just decided to take a walk in a school, or. . .they were terrorists.

Alex nearly skipped a step. This whole thing wasn't that hard to figure out, really. With everybody stuck in the gymnasium, it'd be easy to create a hostage situation. So. He had to figure out how many bad guys there were, and what they wanted.

There it was! Alex entered the first lavatory door he saw, which ended up leading into the little girl's room. He ignored that fact. And hoped that Jasmine or Jack wouldn't find out, because both of them would never let him hear the end of it.

Going to the other door that led into gymnasium, he pressed his ear against it. He heard nothing. Guess he'd have to go outside. He grasped the handle, and pulled the door open a crack. He waited. Nothing. He opened it enough to peek out. All clear.

He crawled out of the bathroom, careful to let the door swing silently shut. For a moment, Alex just crouched there, concealed by the short, partial wall, and listened. There was a strained silence so heavy, it grated at his nerves. Alex instinctively knew that there was something very, very bad going on here. And he had to see it for himself.

It was a dumb idea, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Moving forward until he was touching the partial wall, he slowly rose up on his feet, until he was peeking above the wall. His eyes widened. Facing him was the entire school, crammed into the gym. Every single face was deathly pale, and utterly terrified.

Alex panned over the rest of the gym. He counted six guys in black, each with huge guns. At the moment, all of them were looking away from his direction as they conversed quietly together. Then he saw the school staff were in a separate group. There was the principle, and Mrs. Bedfordshire, the secretary. Wolf was among them too, a sour expression on his face. But besides that, he looked calm. Probably the only cool-headed janitor in the whole bunch.

Wolf suddenly glanced in Alex's direction, and their eyes met. The man's eyes widened only marginally, before he looked away. Alex slid back down behind the wall. Well, great. What should he do now?

He had his cellphone. Should he call for help? Call the police? MI6? It wouldn't do much to help, he decided. These terrorist guys probably had the whole school locked down, and would predictably threaten to shoot everybody if the police tried to interfere. MI6 was a spy agency that held close connections to the government. It was better if they stayed out of the picture.

So. It was all up to him. Alex Rider, the teen-aged spy. A slow grin spread over his face. Just like old times. Yes, it was good to be back.

He crawled back to the lavatory, and slipped inside. Just as the door began closing, someone outside shouted. "Hey! Who's there?!"

Alex couldn't resist. He stuck his head out of the door. "I just lost my watch somewhere," he called out. "I'm looking for it..."

"Stop!" There was a stampede of feet running towards him. Alex shut the door, and hurriedly backtracked to the door on the other side. He went through it, and stood out in the hall, and waited.

Seconds later, the lav's door was yanked open. "Hey! Get back here, you little runt!" The terrorist rushed outside, clearly furious.

"Hey," Alex called out softly. The terrorist whirled around, and was greeted by a fist to the face. He reeled back, completely stunned that a little kid had hit him.

Alex stepped froward, slamming both fists, one after the other, into the man's gut. He followed with a spin kick that smashed into the side of the man's head. The terrorist collapsed, and stared up at Alex through fading vision. He saw a black-haired kid with a gun slung across his shoulders. What the hell -? He passed out.

Alex had just dragged the terrorist into the janitor's closet when his earpiece crackled. "Four, did you get him?" He paused in his work, looking down at the unconscious man.

"Yeah, I'd say I got him." He resumed wrapping the rope around the man's ankles. This was the last bit of rope. He'd either have to search for more in the other janitor's store room, or start using zip ties. There was a big bag of them, right on that shelf there. Well, zip ties were just as effective.

"Four, respond!" The man on the other side of the radio sounded a little peeved. Alex finished tying the man up, and grabbed the gun. What was with these guys and big guns? He left the janitor closet with the gun, and made his way to the nearest trash bin. As he walked, he began breaking the weapon down.

"Number Four, I'm sending some others. . .ridiculous that you need help to catch some kid. . ." The radio fizzed, and went silent.

Alex dropped the gun into the trash bin, all in pieces. Hmm, so more were coming out? He wondered about the other two men he'd taken down in the halls. Why wasn't the leader concerned about them? There hadn't been any attempt over the radio to communicate with them.

He began to feel uneasy. Like he was missing something. He shrugged, and trotted back down the hall, away from the gymnasium. Maybe it was time he checked out the whole school, and made sure no more terrorists were lurking about. After all, hadn't Wolf made that mistake once?

Alex's face became grim. If he wasn't careful, innocent people were going to die. He broke into a light run, his rubber-soled shoes hitting the ground soundlessly. It was time he went for a hunt.

ARAR

Shane was very peeved, to put it mildly. He was regretting hiring those idiotic street thugs. But he had no choice - he was low on good men. Besides himself, he had two other trusted colleagues. They'd been his close friends for the longest time, and he'd trust them with his life.

Now he turned to one of them, a lean, wiry man by the name of Curtis. "Go. Find the kid, and number Four, and bring them back."

Curtis merely nodded, his face serious. He was always serious. He trotted off towards the lavatories, using the same exit that number Four had.

Shane sighed internally. He'd expected the police to be the only trouble. In fact, he was counting on it. But these men he'd hired. . .they weren't all that reliable. His radio crackled.

"Unit three reporting in - everything's locked up at the front. It all looks good, boss."

"Good," he responded. "Stay at your position, and let me know when the police arrive."

"Gotchya."

Gotchya? Shane scowled faintly. What kind of response was that? Useless, the whole lot of them. It looked like he and his two colleagues would have to do the whole operation themselves. Not like it'd be difficult. They were dealing with terrified school children, for crying out loud. What could possibly go wrong?

ARAR

Seven minutes after reporting in, number Three found himself kissing the ground. He'd only caught a glimpse of a black-haired kid before he saw nothing at all. The last thing he was aware of was being dragged by the foot across the smooth floor.

Alex deposited this guy in the staff lounge, duck taping him to one of the heavy lounge chairs. He used up the entire roll in the process, making sure that if the terrorist woke up, he wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.

This made terrorist number five that he'd taken down. There had been one other guy lurking in the halls; he was now safely zip-tied to the piping of a sink in a lavatory down by the computer labs. Not to mention that two more guns were now scattered into a few more trash bins.

Really. These guys called themselves terrorists? They were pathetic! It was incredibly easy to sneak up on them, and once they saw him, they just kind of stared in a - "look! It's a kid!" type of way. Alex left the lounge, and took a moment to lean against the wall.

All right. I've taken five out - four of them were on patrol, and one of them from the gym. I've gone through the whole school, except for the gym, so I'm pretty certain that there aren't any more patrollers. So there's five left in the gym. Actually, maybe three, since that guy mentioned something about sending "others" to help find me. So I should be expecting a couple of visitors soon, at the very least.

So. . .how to find them before they found him? Alex pushed off from the wall, and started walking back in the direction of the gym. Abruptly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and a horrible feeling that he was being watched settled into the pit of his stomach. Reacting instantly, he planted a heel, and whirled around, one hand flying to the gun on his back.

A man in black stood in the middle of the intersection between three hallways. He just stood calmly, watching Alex with cool gray eyes.

Alex froze, one hand still on the gun. A shiver of dread crawled up his spine. He hadn't even heard this guy coming! Who was he? Alex took a moment to evaluate this newcomer. No gun on this one, thankfully. But this guy stood like a martial artist, balanced on the balls of his feet, hands hanging loosely at his sides. This guy was confident in his abilities, and thus no gun. Maybe a knife, hidden in one of those sleeves, or even in the small of his back, like how Alex was hiding his.

A professional, Alec realized. This man was no amateur, like all of the rest. A sudden thought struck him. If this man had snuck up on him without catching his attention, what if there was a second one? Immediately, Alex shifted his head to the side, and used his peripheral vision to both keep an eye on the man, and check for any other threats.

The man was alone. Hiding his sense of relief, Alex faced the man directly, still keeping all senses alert on his surroundings. The terrorist just stood still, watching him. It was slightly unnerving.

The hall was intensely silent, as the two stared at each other. Alex was the first to move, as he grew tired of the staring game. It was a scare tactic, he knew, and if he let it go on any longer, he'd become completely unnerved and do something stupid. So he slipped the gun off his shoulders, and set it on the ground, all the while watching the man in black. He reached out with a foot, and pushed it off to the side.

The man's face remained totally expressionlessly, but his pale eyes gleamed. He understood. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them. An agreement to duel, and to let the more skilled man win. He shifted into a low stance, and held out a hand towards Alex. Two fingers twitched, making the "come and get it" signal.

Alex launched forwards, his nerves stretched taut, his whole body quivering as his blood roared in his veins. He was strangely exhilarated, actually wanting this fight as much as the terrorist seemed to. The man was ready for him, and they clashed together, Alex's fist glancing off the man's forearms.

They exchanged blocks and blows, intertwined in a deadly dance. The man was pretty skilled, obviously having studied some form of martial arts for a few years. Alex, however, was only a teenager. Smaller and weaker, than the man.

However, he was a teenager who had gone through SAS boot camp. He was a teenager who had saved entire countries from disaster, who'd gone on missions all over the world. He was a teenager who'd trained with the best of Scorpia's assassins. He was a teenager who'd killed, who looked a woman in the face as he sent a bullet into her brains, who knew how to destroy his heart in order to commit the most terrible of crime of murder. He was Alex Rider, and this poor man didn't have a clue as to who he was dealing with.

Alex used his smaller size to his full advantage, evading most of the man's blows without much trouble. He leaned to the side, whipping his leg up towards the man's face. The man grabbed Alex's leg, and attempted to throw him into the wall. Alex curled, grabbed the man's arm for leverage, and whipped his other foot into the man's back, just below the shoulder blades.

The air knocked out of him, the man released Alex and stumbled back. Before he could recover, Alex came in low, thrusting his palm up into his opponent's jaw. He spun immediately after, and smashed his elbow into the terrorist's sternum, cracking the bone. Then he stepped back, and watched as the man hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Alex was panting, more out of the adrenaline that rushed through his body than out of exertion. He'd had to pull back at the last moment, because he almost had delivered a killing blow. If he hadn't caught himself. . .the man would be dead. He shuddered. Gotta be careful. . .

He leaned over, and grabbed the limp wrist of the terrorist. He proceeded to drag him into the staff lounge.

ARAR

What's the kid doing? Wolf glanced around, noting that only four terrorists were left inside the gym. He wanted nothing more than to take them out, but he was only one man. He was outnumbered and outgunned. Still. . .a slow smile spread across his features.

Alex was back in the game. And he was steadily whittling down the numbers.

"Hey! What're you smiling at?!" Wolf noticed that one of the terrorists were glaring at him. "You know something? You know what's going on?" Wolf scowled. This guy was an idiot. But two of them- the leader and another man - they were dangerous.

Oh, great. Now he had all four of them staring at him. Way to be inconspicuous, Wolf. He lowered his head, trying to look like a poor, frightened janitor. A pair of shiny black boots walked over and stood in front of him.

"You."

Wolf didn't look up.

"You!" The butt of a gun slammed into his chin, forcing his head to fly up, and his vision to explode in stars. Ow. . .!

The boss-man himself glared down at him. "You're too shifty-eyed. Who are you?"

Oh boy. It'd be bad if this guy found out I'm a SAS guy working for MI6. Wolf bit back an growly retort, and answered in a trembling voice. "I'm. . .I'm the janitor?" He was careful to not meet the man's gaze, because if he did, he'd probably end up spitting in the man's face.

"No. You look like a soldier. A policeman, perhaps. I've seen the way you've been eying us, like you're thinking of doing something stupid."

Was I that obvious? "No, you got it all wrong! I wasn't - "

The butt of the gun flew towards his face. Oh, . . .! He didn't get to finish that thought. The impact threw him flat on his back, and sent his mind spiralling up into the stars.

Somebody screamed, thinking that the janitor was dead. Shane shouted, "Shut up! Any more noise, and I'll kill him for real! Or maybe I'll start with this girl over here." He gestured toward a trembling girl that looked a little old to be in this kind of school. Maybe she was a teacher's aid. . .

Shane stalked over to the other three terrorists. "Where are the police," he muttered. "They should be here by now."

Jasmine had gone completely still when the terrorist had pointed at her. For a moment, she thought he was going to actually shoot her. When he turned away, she sagged with relief. She stared at her hands. They trembled, and she grasped them together to stop their shaking. What's Ian doing?

ARAR

Alex's earpiece cracked again. "Curtis! What's your status?"

Um, he's all tied up right now, he thought. He was now back in the girl's lavatory that was connected to the gym. He needed to see how many left he had to deal with.

"Respond, Curtis!"

He opened the bathroom door, and crawled out once more. After making sure the door closed without any sound, he moved over to the wall, preparing to peek once again.

"Curtis!" "Curtis!" It was weird hearing the same voice coming from two different places. The voice now proceeded to utter an ugly expletive. But without broadcasting it on the radio.

Alex crawled along the length of the partial wall, moving until he was at the end. He took a deep breath, then stuck out his head.

The hostages looked good, no one was dead, as far as he could tell. Wolf was. . .sleeping? No, he was either dead or unconscious. Probably the latter. Now to count the terrorists.

One, two, three. . .oh, crap. The fourth guy was staring at him.

"The kid! You two, get him! Bring him to me, dead or alive!" Oh, so the fourth guy was the leader of the whole thing. Two of the black-clothed terrorists broke apart, and ran towards Alex's position. Alex didn't waste any time; he jumped to his feet, and fled into the bathroom. This time he hid in one of the stalls, standing on the toilet.

Seconds later, the door burst in, and the two goons entered. "Where is he?"

"I dunno, check the stalls. I'll see if went out this way!" One left through the other door.

Alex shook his head. These two were of the stupid type, that was for sure. Honestly, with these kinds of terrorists around, this country was in no danger. He kicked the stall door open. "Hey!"

"Huh?" The terrorist never had a chance. Alex leaped out of his stall, and charged the man like a raging bull. He football-tackled the terrorist, and sent him crashing into the mirrors and sinks. "Oof!" The terrorist dropped his gun. Alex picked it up, and smacked him upside the head with it.

There, that one was taken care of. Now to go find the other. Alex dropped the gun in one of the toilets; unfortunately, it was too big to flush it down. Then he trotted over to the far door, and pulled it open.

The muzzle of a gun poked him in the head.

"Hah! I knew you'd come out this way!" The terrorist holding the gun snickered. "Thougt you were so smart, huh? You're play time's over, boy!"

Alex just blinked. "You're an amateur, aren't you?"

"What?" The guy snarled, seriously offended.

"You're safety's off," Alex gestured toward the gun.

The guy's eyes grew wide. "What?" He looked down at his gun.

Alex buried his knee in the man's stomach. The gun clattered to the ground. "Just kidding," he sing-songed, and proceeded to knock the terrorist out.

The rest of zip ties were used up tying the terrorist's wrists together. His ankles were left unbound. It didn't matter, anyway, since he wouldn't be able to get out of the locked janitor's closet.

Now I just need to tie up that other guy. Alex went back into the lavatory. The terrorist was nowhere to be found.

Huh?! He spun around, searching the entire place. Empty! He removed the gun from his shoulders, flicked the safety, and held it ready as he kicked open every stall door. They were all empty. What's going on? He should've been out of it for at least an hour!

Alex spun around, his heart suddenly pounding. It felt like he was being watched. But there was nothing. He hurried to the gymnasium door, and hesitated.

Just do it. You're holding the gun, remember? Alex gripped the handle and pulled it open. At the same time, he brought the weapon up, holding his finger poised above the trigger. Again, nobody was there. And from the gymnasium, there was not a sound, save for the muffled sob of some terrified kid.

Alex stood in the doorway, completely uncertain. The partial wall stood before him; he was far back enough that he couldn't see over it. Something's not right.

"Hey, kid." The terrorist leader's voice called out. "Why don't you come out, now? Your little game is over now."

I knew it. They've found me out. Alex didn't move. What should I do?

"If you don't come out, kid," the voice snarled suddenly, sending shivers crawling down his neck, "I'll just have to shoot all of your friends here, one at a time. Would you like that?"

Alex silently swore. This wasn't good at all. Looks like he didn't have a choice in the matter. Still gripping his gun, and silently stepped out of the doorway, and along the partial wall. He came to its end, hesitated, then walked around the corner, right into plain view.

True to his word, the terrorist leader was holding a gun, and pointing it at a group of teary-eyed girls. The leader's right hand man stood faithfully at his boss's right hand side. And the missing, unconscious terrorist that Alex had beat up was sprawled on a chair, looking more dead than alive.

"Ah, there you are," the leader smiled as soon as he saw Alex. "Why don't you set that thing down - it's too big a toy for such a little boy."

Alex didn't move. The leader suddenly pulled the trigger, sending a bullet flying out into the group of girls. There were screams, as one girl suddenly grabbed her leg, shrieking, as blood suddenly started seeping all over the place. Alex stared, eyes wide.

"Like I said, little boys shouldn't be playing with weapons. They're too dangerous." The leader's smile was sick. Alex grated his teeth, and slowly set the gun down on the floor. Meanwhile, his mind was on hyper drive.

Two of them, not so far away. The third's a possible threat, but he's somewhat incapacitated. What should I do? What can I do?!

Alex straightened slowly, the gun at his feet.

"Good boy. Now kick it away."

He did, sending it several feet in front of him. "You're not getting away with this," he said quietly. "My friend's already taken down the rest of your men. And he'll stop you."

The leader terrorist handed his weapon to his right-hand man. "Oh? And who is this friend of yours?"

Alex glanced over the whole gymnasium furtively, noticing that Wolf was still flat on his back. Great. I'm not going to get much help from him. "He. . .used to be in the SAS."

"Really," the leader didn't seem to buy it. But there was a thoughtful expression on his face. Alex could guess what he was thinking: This kid is such a fibber. There's no way that there's an ex-SAS guy around. But then, how did all of my men get taken out?

"So, what's your point? Why a-are you doing this?" Alex asked, making his voice tremble. He shifted a step closer as he spoke, making it seem like an unconscious act. Come on, I'm just a kid. I'm no threat to you guys. . .

The leader snorted. "Cut the act, kid. I won't fall for it. You were carrying a gun, for crying out loud. And you somehow evaded my men, while your hero-wannabe friend took them out!" He stepped forward, moving closer to Alex, an ugly snarl twisting his features. "Now tell me, who were you running around with out there? Tell me who took out my men!"

Alex leaned back slightly, showing an expression of fear. He reached both hands behind his back as he took a step backwards. "Ah. . .uh.. . ." he stammered, clearly terrified of the enraged terrorist who had taken another few steps closer.

That's close enough. Do it now! Alex drew the knife from the back of his pants, and threw it with all of his strength. It skimmed past the leader's cheek, seared through the air, and buried itself in the right-hand man's shoulder. The gun fell to the ground, and the man staggered backwards.

Alex launched forward, taking advantage of the moment. He slammed into the leader, knocking him off the feet. He punched him in the face, once, twice, before the leader managed to throw him off. Alex was up again, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the right-hand man grasping the gun he'd dropped.

Oh, no! Alex looked around frantically. He saw the leader coming at him, saw his own gun within inches of his hands. He reached out, grabbed it -

"Stop, or I'll kill her!"

Alex froze, turned to see the injured right-hand man holding his gun to the forehead of a girl. Alex recognized her - she was in his class.

"Why, you - " The leader was reaching out for him, ready to tear him apart.

Alex threw himself forward, out of reach of the leader. He somersaulted, came up, and saw that the right-hand man's finger was curling around the trigger. No! Alex brought his own gun up without even thinking, and squeezed off a single round.

The gunshot shattered the air. The right-hand man jerked, a spot of red blossoming above his left eye. Alex watched in a stunned silence as the man slowly folded to the ground. More than one person screamed.

Alex's instincts suddenly cried out in warning. He turned, and the leader suddenly was there, swiping at him with a wicked knife. Alex threw himself away, dropping the gun in the whole process. He rolled away. The leader came at him, snarling in rage.

"You bloody, rotten kid! You killed him!"

Alex tried to get to his feet, but the leader wouldn't let up. He kept stabbing the knife down, again and again. Alex kicked out, catching the man on the chest, pushing him away. The teenager leaped to his feet just as the leader came flying at him, the knife darting through the air.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" The man was unstoppable, flying into a fit of insane rage. The knife caught the light, and flashed, briefly blinding Alex. He stepped back, one arm covering his face. The blade slashed at his chest, tearing through cloth and cutting into his skin.

Alex yelped, and leaped away. The leader followed, his dark eyes mad. Alex ducked under a swipe of the knife, and drove the side of his hand into the man's arm. The knife was dropped. The leader wasn't fazed by the loss of his weapon. He merely swung a bony fist at Alex, connecting with his jaw, sending the boy flying onto the floor.

Momentarily dazed, Alex groaned, and shook his head. Come on, get with it. . . The stars cleared from his vision, and he was greeted with a giant foot swinging towards his head. "Gegh!" He jerked his upper body up into a sitting position; the leader's kick went wide.

Alex planted his hands down, and swung his leg around in a low, powerful kick. He connected with the back of the leader's legs, and the leader was knocked right off his feet. Alex immediately pounced, landing on top of the madman.

The leader reached up, grabbed Alex's shirt in an attempt to yank him off. But since the boy's shirt had been nearly cut off, he only succeeded in ripping Alex's shirt off. The material came off in the leader's hand, briefly blocking Alex from his vision.

It was enough. Alex drove the side of his hand into the leader's neck with as much force as he could muster. Something inside the man's neck gave way, and the leader went deathly still. The fight was over.

Alex sagged, still sitting on the man's stomach. He could feel the warm blood trickle down his chest. The wound stung. But he was still alive. And so were all of the students.

He got to his feet, and stepped away from the leader, the last remaining shreds of his shirt falling away. His old bullet scar throbbed painfully. Then he noticed the entire school body staring at him in a stunned silence.

He blinked.

"Um. . .does somebody want to call the police?"