DISCLAIMER: I don't own Alex Rider. The style of this is actually inspired by a book that I read earlier (though I never got to finish it). Can anyone guess?

YOU

You've got a dying sister at home. She's wasting away in bed. Cancer, they said.

Mum and Dad won't help. They say that she'll die anyway. They'd rather spend the money they have to buy cigarettes and alcohol.

You really do want to help her. You've taken up two jobs already. Your brother is contributing too. He's working full-time at a mechanic shop.

You sit by your sister's bedside, watching her as she stares up at the cracked ceiling. Her once bright eyes flicker dully towards you. She moves a hand towards you, as if to ask for your comfort.

It kills you to see her this way. Your baby sister. She's eleven. For eleven years, you've known her as the strong, independent girl that never cared what others thought. She never needed comfort. It's almost like if you take her hand, you'd be taking away her last shred of pride.

What do you do?

THE*BANK

"How are we going to get more money?" James, my big brother – and my only brother – was pacing around. We were in the park, having managed to drag Olivia, my one and only little sister, with us.

I shook the numbness out of my fingertips, "If we do get more money, Mum and Dad will just take it away. Use it for themselves."

"Not if we hide it." James looked desperate. The whites of his eyes were a bit red, and he had dark bags hanging from underneath his eyes.

Olivia toyed with something in her hands, her gaunt face darkening in the sunlight, "I'm dying anyway. There's no point in you trying to save me."

"Olivia!"

"'Live!"

James and I both sounded shocked, our loud voices resonating. I winced, smiling sheepishly at a couple passing by.

I sat down next to Olivia, placing a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged me away, not looking me in the eye.

"We could..." James' voice sounded far away as I withdrew from Olivia, feeling hurt at her action.

"We could what?" I asked, turning to him.

He took a seat next to me, stroking his chin, like how an old, wise man would stroke his wispy beard, "We could rob a bank."

Both Olivia and I stared at him, astonished.

"No. No way!" Even as I said this, I knew it was futile. James was determined, and when he was determined, he'd never give up.

"I know a bank – the high class kind, you know? The Royal and General. We could go there."

"Do you know how much trouble we'd be in?" I was kneading the fabric of my pants anxiously, "We'd be tossed in prison forever!"

"No," his eyebrows were furrowed, "We could say that we needed food. Money. Mum and Dad don't provide for us. It's the perfect cover."

"Hungry children don't steal money!" I forced my hands to stop worrying the fabric, "They steal – oh I don't know – food!"

"This is a chance to get 'Liv better!" James glared at me, "Don't you want that?"

It was like the breath had been snatched right out of my lungs, "Of course I want that..."

Olivia sighed, running a hand through her short hair. She had been on chemotherapy and radiation until our parents had convenientlydecided to stop the treatments, "Might as well do it. Maybe you two could grow old as millionaires."

I looked away from my two siblings. I had always been a stickler for the rules. Always cautious. Always wary. Maybe it was time for me to stop thinking about the repercussions. Just until they were staring me in the face, "Fine. At least in prison, we'll be fed."

THE*BANK

YOU

You're new at this: breaking the rules. But you've still got your big brother to help you, even if he's not exactly the one to break the rules either. Your sister is at home, missing all the fun. She's probably laying on her side, staring out the dingy window, hoping you'll make it out okay.

It's two o'clock in the afternoon. You're not exactly sure why your brother decided to pick this time to rob a bank. Maybe it's because of all those TV shows that your parents watch. They always rob banks in the day time.

"Do you have it?" His voice is rough beneath his ski mask. Only his eyes and part of his lips are sticking out.

"That depends," you say, rolling your eyes and pointing to the backpack on your back, "D'you have the gun?"

He's the one who stole it from your dad. It's loaded with real bullets. The kind that kill. You really don't want to be close to one of those things, but it's necessary to rob a bank.

You're the one that's been gifted with the real skill – hacking. You have a junky old laptop, but it's been repaired so many times that it's nearly as good as new. You're an expert, though you never go around saying so. Though you're a hacker, you've never done anything morally wrong. The most you've done is experiment, but you always set the webpage back to how you found it.

This time, you'll be doing something you consider scandalous. Shutting off the cameras and unlocking the vaults, if you're lucky. The vaults will probably be modernized and not by lock and key.

"Let's go."

But you're frozen as your brother tucks the gun in his pants. You feel horrified. Something is going to go wrong. You know it. Even so, should you follow your brother?

What do you do?

THE*BANK

It was two in the afternoon. We were making the final preparations carefully, making sure to avoid any cameras, there or not there. It was showtime.

James went in first, pulling on his ski mask and lifting his gun out of his waistband. I quickly pulled out my mask too, shoving it over my head.

"EVERYONE GET DOWN!" James' voice was frightening, like thunder clashing. He turned to me, still pointing his gun at the innocent bystanders, "Go!"

I raced to the nearest table, taking out the laptop. I made sure that I covered my laptop screen from any camera that could have been spying on me. My fingers were cold – clammy. My heart was racing. I couldn't believe I was doing this. Causing fear and panic. But I was doing this for a good cause.

Behind me, James was still shouting, brandishing his gun menacingly. I wanted to get out – fast.

"We're good," I called to him, shutting down the cameras one by one. I trotted over to him, "This is a pretty large bank. What about those people upstairs? They could have heard us-"

It was as if a divine spirit had heard me. The elevator across the room made a soft ding!

"This was such a bad idea..." I told myself, but I stood my ground.

The elevator doors opened, and I relaxed. It was only a boy, probably around my age. No way he was a threat. Either way, James started to yell threats at him, pointing the gun at him. The boy raised his hands in surrender and began to lower himself onto his knees.

"Get the money!" I growled, racing back to the laptop. It seemed as though the cameras had rebooted themselves, which I hadn't thought was possible.

"You get the money!" James hissed back, "It's a tactical decision."

I gaped at him, clad in his ski mask, "It was your idea! I can't do this!"

"Fine," James glared at me, "take the gun, then."

He held the gun out towards me, turning his back on the group of terrified adults and the one boy. It struck me as odd right there and then. Why was there a single boy there? It was a bank.

My blood ran cold. Was he thinking of robbing the bank too? It would explain his out of place demeanor.

Too late. My instincts had already confirmed he was a threat as I thought of it. It really was amazing how human instinct was so precise.

He was standing. Holding a gun. Finger on the trigger. Finger pulling the trigger.

THE*BANK

YOU

Fear. That's what's taking over you. That's what's rooting you to the spot, right on the tiled floor of the bank. Your heart is pumping – pounding. You know that your fight or flight instincts have come over you.

But who is the bullet aimed at?

You know that you're not the threat. You don't have a gun. Heck, you probably couldn't punch someone without hurting yourself.

The bullet is aimed at your brother. One of the two people that you love. And you have to save him, but you're rooted to the ground.

What do you do?

THE*BANK

It seemed like an eternity. It was almost like I could see the bullet coming, though I obviously couldn't. I just knew that if either of us got shot, we'd be arrested for sure. I wasn't going to leave James, and he wasn't going to leave me.

And that was that.

I felt like my feet were lead, or maybe they were hot glued to the ground. Either way, I had to shake it off and act.

I sprang forward, taking James down and hoping that the stupid gun in his hand wouldn't go off and kill us both. I didn't sacrifice myself for nothing.

"You okay?" I asked frantically, rolling off of James quickly. The bullet had shattered somewhere behind us.

I knew that the guy was probably advancing or aiming again, but for some reason, I really didn't have the strength to move again. I felt like I had just crawled up a mountain and back down again.

"Ye-" James was frozen, staring at me as if I'd grown a second head, "You-"

I stared quizzically at him, noting that the boy had disappeared from his original spot. He was at the phone.

"What's going on?" I tried to sit up, but a stinging pain stopped me. It was like a hundred wasps had decided to target me, plunging their stingers into my chest.

"Don't move," it wasn't James. It was the boy. He was still pointing the gun at us, but he held a bunch of bandages in his other hand. He tossed them to James, "Pressure."

I was confused, "What are you doing?"

James had abandoned his gun and his ski mask. He had tugged off mine too. He was pressing right where the sting was. Why did he look so worried?

I reached up, touching the towels with a hand. When I lifted my hand up, I realized my fingers were slick with red blood. But it didn't look like blood. It looked a lot like cranberry juice.

I wasn't stupid. Not really anyway. I knew what was going to kill me. Either the blood loss or the shock. And I had no idea what was going to happen if I went into shock.

"What's going to happen to Olivia?" I wasn't sure if my voice was steady, but I felt calmer when I mentioned her.

"She's..." Why were there three James in my vision? Why was his voice fading away like that?

"Don't let her die," I tried to say, but I could tell that I didn't actually say it. Maybe I was choking out something – air probably.

Don't let her die…

THE*BANK

YOU

You're in pain. The simple kind. The kind where you don't have to judge how much pain you're in because you know you're at a ten.

You're in a dingy room. One light bulb. Grey walls. Locked door.

You're tied to a chair, your arms bound behind you. Your chest is on fire, but looking down, you can see that the wound has been bandaged. Cleaned off. How nice of… whoever did this.

You wonder what's happened to your brother. To your sister. Are they stuck in rooms like this? Probably not. You sister is probably still in her room. Or maybe the cops are finally investigating why there is a dying child in your house.

The door opens with a long, loud squeal that makes your cringe. You can't cover your ears though.

A man emerges from the doorway, frowning. He's carrying a hose. You can't help that horrible sinking feeling in your stomach. You're involved in something bigger than just a bank robbery. You've always known this from the start. It was just one of those feelings.

"What's your name?"

You're confused. Why does he want to know? There's that feeling in your stomach again. That twisting, churning knot that won't go away.

"What is your name?"

The words sound more forced now, and the man is grimacing. He points the hose threateningly at you, and you can't help but let out a small whimper, "What do you want?"

Instead of answering, the man douses you with a jet of ice cold water. It comes quicker than you expect. You can feel the force knocking you backwards, but the chair seems to be nailed to the ground. You gasp as the hole in your chest throbs violently. The area around it feels like it's on fire, the exact opposite of the cold water that covers you.

"Tell me your name!"

What do you do?

A/N: So... How was it?

I don't really know what to think about this, so I won't. LOL

Sorry I've been really inactive lately, but I swear I'm still writing. I've just been swamped with homework, studying, tests... the future. Poo.

Anyway, I hope you liked this. If you didn't, that's cool too. I mean this was really different than anything I've ever written before. Hm... but it was liberating, I guess.

Please leave a review saying why you liked/disliked this!

Hugs and kisses!

-Al (is tired). (Hahahaha did you ever notice why I do that? 'Cause... Alice... Al is... HAHAHAH. Okay sorry, I'm delirious)