Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider. I did not come up with the idea of a child spy.

I just own the plot. I think.

A/n. When I first had the idea to do this, I initially had Alex escaping England starting in a London underground train station, with K-Unit and other member of the SAS arriving and stopping him from leaving the train station - after a very big fight, an old lady swinging a hand bag in Wolf's face and Eagle being kicked somewhere very unpleasant.

But then I realised: I do not live in London. I have only ever been on a train once before in my life, and at the station it wasn't, I'm sure, anything like the London underground. So then I had to rethink my idea, and came up with the channel tunnel. I have been there once before, and remember it quite well.

The Folkestone White Horse is a real thing - very cool, too. Google it if you want to see it.

For the remaining chapters of this story, they should be longer - this is like a prologue type thing… sorta.

I also do not know when I'll be updating the next chapters. I haven't, at this moment in time, got any other chapters written. I am also in college/6th form, so am quite busy a lot of the time with coursework, exams and filming stuff to do (I do media, and it takes a long time to do everything :l)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Chapter one.

They say that you are innocent when you are young. That life is just beginning, an adventure so unique to yourself that no one controls it.

They're wrong. Everyone is controlled. From the second you arrive from your mothers womb, you are controlled. Your life planned out for you. You have no control in choosing not to go to school; it is compulsory. You have no choice but to get a job when you are of legal age to support yourself and your family, to make life better.

For me, my life was controlled before I hit the age of one. After my parents death, being left in the care of my uncle meant my life was controlled. He had everything planned out, without my knowledge. Because life is cruel like that. And then, he was killed. And suddenly, the plans he had so meticulously made for me were pushed forward.

I wasn't even at the legal age for a job before I was blackmailed into one. Eight missions, a bunch of scars - emotionally and physically, no relatives left and the only woman who had ever truly cared for me shot dead in front of myself and 24 other unfortunate students in school, I crouch down behind a metal structure, waiting for the channel tunnel to let its newest travellers on board.

It was currently just after half six in the evening, and the next Euro train was due to let cars and coaches aboard in 15 minutes time. It had took me just under 30 minutes to get to my home in Chelsea, change clothes into darker material, my bullet-proof top provided by MI6 underneath a heavy jumper and to pack a very light bag, only spare clothing, money, and some of the contraptions made by Smithers that I had gathered within the last year on my back. From there, a further 3 hours was spent getting out of London and to Kent, and a further 45 minutes to wait for darkness to arrive to make my plans possible to leave England. During that time, I had travelled on various buses and trains, hoping to avoid as many cameras as I could, knowing that The Bank would be looking for me.

I had used my pick-pocketing skills to drop my phone, still on, into another passengers shopping bag to hopefully waste some of MI6's time in tracking the movement of that person instead of me. I didn't want to be found. I wanted to escape, to be free, to never have to constantly be looking over my shoulder, and I knew that I could never do that whilst still being in England, the military and terrorists organisations looking to use me or kill me whenever the chance arose.

When darkness finally arrived, I moved from my hiding spot in the car park close to the channel tunnel, seeing the Folkestone White Horse on the hills opposite, one of my last views of England, and moved closer to the channel tunnels opening. The three coaches waiting to depart amongst the many cars meant that my chance of escape was high - the darkness would cover me, and I would be able to climb up onto the metal rods supporting the shuttles entrance and on top of one of the coaches - an excellent hideout from which I wouldn't be discovered any time soon.

When the vehicles where finally allowed to move forward onto the shuttle, a quiet breath of relief escaped me, until I spotted something that terrified me.

There, travelling at a fast speed where 2 black cars being escorted by 4 army trucks.

I prayed for something to hold them up, or for the shuttle to quickly depart, knowing that it would mean my quick escape and 45 minutes to create a plan for when I finally arrived at Pas-de-Calais in France and what I would do afterwards.

But nothing held them up, and the train didn't leave.

A/N 2. Please review - tell me what you want to happen in future chapters… atm, I don't really know what I'm gunna with the rest of this story. I just wanted to get something published - these are my very own ideas that I daydream about at school, so I just want to get them out there… hopefully it'll mean they'll leave my mind, and I can finally concentrate on what the teachers are saying….