Seventeen. Happy 17th Birthday. Like fuck it was. Alex had had the pleasure of St. Dominic's for four days and now he was transferring to Harlesden Hall. Detained under Section 2 of the Mental Health Act for 28 days. Alex Rider was a danger to himself and others. Thats what you get for running away and trying to kill yourself when the bastards try to drag you back to MI6. Alex would never forget the look on the guards face as he walked in on Alex hanging from the ceiling by his jumper. Alex had just wanted to make sure they never used him again. The Pleasure's had long since returned to the good old US of A. Alex quite liked hustling on the streets, pickpocketing, shoplifting, a bit of burglary; he had not resorted to sucking old perves off though. Alex at least had some standards.

Alex looked at the grim Gothic horror of a private clinic. High walls, razor wire, CCTV and two checkpoints to get in. Fort Bloody Knox.

Alex was pulled out of the car by the large nurse who accompanied him from St. Dominics. "Welcome to the Hall, kid. Don't get many as young as you, here. Come on in and get settled and the doc'll come and evaluate you."

Alex stripped with no fuss and showered in full view of Dennis. His clothes were packed away and he was handed some loose pants and top and slip on soft shoes. The new outfit was garish with a bright red stripe woven in. "No name tag?"

"No Alex there are four in your group. You'll get to know everyone here very well soon enough. I'll introduce you to all the staff. Get settled and get your shit together. Think of it as a bit of a retreat. I'll be like a holiday compared to the streets" said the large gruff Mancunian.

Alex had been poked and prodded at St. Dominic's. It had been twenty questions about what he'd been up to in the four months he'd been off the radar. He'd had trace amounts of alcohol, cannabis and cocaine in his system so the nosy bastards had him down as a possible addict.