Slowly, I crept down the treacherous mountain. I had eyes on my victim, Bucan, an international drug dealer, and my goal was to bring him back to the U.S.A. He underestimated me, though; he thought I was just a fifteen-year old kid with red hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. That old drug dealer was wrong though; because he didn't know that I was specially trained by the government, because they recognized that I had a “Gift”. Just then four bullets came raining down. I was spotted! I spent too much time thinking and, ahhh, it was over; my cover was blown. All I could hope is that all of my work would not go for naught. Quickly, I ran under some rocks. “Scott, mission compromised! They’re coming for us, run!”, I heard my long time best friend say over my communicator.

I started running, while I said, “No, really, I didn't see that, Jamie!” Out of nowhere, I heard a bang, and a pain like no other in my leg.

That’s when everything went black. I awoke in a mysterious dark room. It was cold in the room. I could see my breath; the air was moist. I tried to move my arms and legs, but the chains kept them down. My knee had a cloth over it that was soaked in blood, I tried to move my leg, but the pain hurt too much. Just then, a door opened up, and some Russian came walking in. He had a deep and raspy voice like he had been smoking a pack of cigarettes a day for thirty years. He said his name was Doctor Bruchivics, and that he was working for Bucan. He told me that a ransom letter had already been sent to the U.S. He started to ask me questions. I tried my best to reply with yeses and noes. Bruchivics had a major scent of alcohol, and he said that since my failure with Bucan, Bucan now has reign over half of the drug dealing business. A thought went through my head. “Where is Jamie?” I shouted.

“Jamie is already dead, he um, how do you say this, fell off a cliff while trying to escape.” I could feel my anger rising. He continued talking “We didn’t need him anyway; you have a gift that we need though.”

“You’ll never get it!”

“That's fine, because we're about to and with it, we will triple our money and nobody will be…” I tuned him out, and concentrated on the chains. Crack! The chains on my hands and legs broke right it half, and soon after that, Bruchivics was slammed up against the wall in shock. I found some rope and quickly tied his hands in a knot. “Enough games!” I shouted. 

“It's time I ask the questions. Where am I?”

“Isn't it obvious kid, you're in Russia.” He staggered out. I could feel his hot, alcoholic breath against my face.

“Answer the question!”  All of a sudden blood came out of his mouth, and he fell flat against the ground. Quickly, I grabbed his jacket looking for any information, but all I found was a bloody driver’s license saying. “Lance E. Bruchivics,” and a few cents. I grabbed the coins, and walked out of the room. A long concrete hallway appeared in front of me, with doors about every ten feet. I started slowly limping down the dark hallway, on high alert for any noises.The pain in my knee felt like being stung by one hundred bees every time I stepped. Finally, I found a door saying ????? that was lit up in red with an arrow. I knew that had to mean exit in Russian, so I opened the heavy iron door. As soon as the door opened, a security camera fixed on to me and stared right at me. It felt like I had been looking at that camera for an eternity before I ran. Quickly, alarms started beeping and some Russian words broke over an intercom. I had a good feeling that they were talking about me.

Just then somebody said, “Over here!” I looked around, and saw him. “Hurry, get in here!” he shouted at me. I ran in the room, and he quickly shut the door. I looked at him; he looked about fourteen-years-old, with dark hair and tanned skin, like me. Then I saw it; he had a gun in his right hand.

“Drop the gun!” I yelled.

“Shut up, you're going to get us killed; I’m not going to shoot you!” he said in a quiet voice. There was a thump against the door, and then it flew open, something went off in the room; smoke, tear gas, something. Everything was a blur; I heard a few shots fired, some screams. Then, someone grabbed my arm, and guided me while I ran. It wasn’t the same kid, though. This kid’s skin was black, and he was strong, quickly pulling me to my feet. In a matter of minutes, we were outside, in the cold. Over here, somebody shouted. The kid with the tanned skin was standing next to some horses. “Get on!” He yelled.

I got on the horse, and grabbed hold of the reins. I was off, heading into the frigid cold air with two kids whom I knew nothing about.

Cold, that’s all I could think about as I was riding the horse. The kid with the tanned skin turned to me and said: “My name is Pedro, and this is Dylan, and you are?”

“My name is Scott, and I’m from the United States,” I told them.

“Same,” said Dylan.

“Let me guess, adopted child with supernatural skill, or in your case ‘power,’    A.K.A gifted teenager, who gets hired by the government and sent off on some mission.Then, you get captured after twenty-two successful missions, and your own home country leaves your side, and recruits someone new. Pedro, over here was already a prisoner when they captured me from my mission. I sent him notes every day telling him who I am, and a plan to escape. Then, one day we heard some guards talking about a new kid arriving. We changed our whole plan after we overheard them. We started gathering guns, bombs, knives, ammo, and any other thing that was lethal. We waited until this day, when we knew you would be trying to escape.” I glanced over at Pedro, who still hadn’t said anything.

“What about you, where are you from?” I said causally. Pedro looked my way, like the answer was obvious.

“I’m from Mexico, I was sent into Russia to investigate some new bombs being tested. While I was riding back to the airport, our car got shot in the tire, and we went right into the ditch. That’s how I got this.” He glanced down at his leg, it was all scarred up and you could see the dry blood all around it. Pedro began talking again. “Right after we crashed, somebody grabbed my arm and knocked me out. That’s how I got here...” Just then, a huge BANG went through the air, and Pedro fell flat against his horse, and tumbled off. Something else went flying into my skin,and my whole body lost control.

I fell off my horse and tumbled onto the snow. I knew right away that I had been tased. I tried to stand, but the taser kept me to the ground. I could see Dylan trying to fight back, but losing quickly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a gun being pointed at Dylan.

“Watch out!” I tried to scream at Dylan. The bitter snow scraped against my face nose, and my vision blurred. Crack, the bullet came flying out of the barrel, and for a moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion. I could see Pedro lying dead on the ground in his own blood. I could see Dylan dodging punches and throwing them right back. Then, the flying bullet froze in the air. I felt like if I blinked, the bullet would go right through Dylan. I concentrated on the bullet, feeling like my skin was about to peel off.

Then everything turned to a blur, there was a scream, and then a familiar sounding voice said, “Just making sure you knew what was going on.”

I looked up, confused, only to find Jamie standing over my head, saying, “Took you long enough.”

I pushed myself up off the snow, and saw Dylan standing in shock, looking right at me and mumbling, “You just turned that bullet around.” Now, I was standing still, trying to figure out what had just happened. Thoughts rushing through my head. How is Jamie alive? What did I just do to that bullet?  Who died? Ahhhh.

I couldn't try to take all of this in at once; it seemed like just when everything was making sense, something else happened and ruined it all.  Jamie started speaking, “I already have a plane coming to pick us up, and bring us back to the U.S.A.”

At that moment, Dylan responded, “You still haven’t seen what they do to people, kid. You can’t make me go back to that place. They left me here in this prison to die. If it wasn’t for their lack of security at that prison, I’d still be there with Scott and Pedro.” Dylan and Jamie continued to bicker. I couldn't stand to hear them fight, and not care about Pedro’s death.

Quickly, I shouted out, “Do none of you care about Pedro? He helped me escape, and his death was my fault, and all you guys are doing right now is fighting about where to stay!” I had enough; too many questions and thoughts were going through my head. I slowly started limping away, still hurt from my fall, and my knee.

“Scott!” yelled Jamie, “I bet Pedro was a good kid, but his death wasn’t your fault.”

I shouted back at Jamie: “Yes it was, if he hadn’t waited for me to arrive, he would have gotten away, and not been killed.”
“It's okay Scott.” He rested his arm on my shoulder, but I threw it off.

“No, it's not, Bucan is still out there causing damage and killing people, and you say that's okay.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Scott, just listen to me.” If we get on that plane and fly back to the U.S.A we can organize a squad to hunt down Bucan, and kill him.”

“I don’t want Bucan dead,” I harshly responded. “I just want Bucan to pay for his crimes in jail.”

“Killing him would be too easy for him,” Dylan chipped in. “I’m with Scott on this one; we need to track down Bucan and make him pay.”

“Fine, I’ll make it work. We’ll fly back to the U.S.A just to show them that you guys are safe, deal?”

“Fine, Jamie. Dylan, you agree, too?”

“Yep”

“Then let's get going,” said Jamie.
We started walking north when out of nowhere a car pulled up, and two people jumped out. “They’re with me. Jamie said to the people. They suddenly moved out of the way and we hopped in the car. U.S.A here we come,” yelled Jamie.
We arrived at the plane thirty minutes later. “Well you guys ready?”

“Yep,” I said back, Dylan was still unsure about this but he got on anyway.

As we boarded on the private plane I noticed 5 characters on the plane saying B-12D, a guard bumped me as I looked at the letters. One of the guard’s face looked similar to a guard at the prison, but I let it go and continued to board the plane. While finding a place to sit the co-pilot walked by me, and I greeted him.

He responded saying, “Find your seat.” For a quick second, he seemed to have a Russian accent. Our plane started up, and I could hear the engines howling. With no delay, I rushed over to Jamie.

“Are you sure this is an American plane?” I said over the roar of the jet.

“Of course,” said Jamie, “Just go find your seat everything will be fine, I got this covered.” Still curious I tiredly walked back to my seat and laid down to try and think about the bullet thing. My knee seemed to have already healed, which surprised me, but I didn’t feel like thinking about it.  

I didn’t know how long I had been asleep when a voice woke me up, saying sorry for the inconvenience, but we have to make a landing for fuel. That’s weird; weren't we flying over the ocean? A few minutes later, we were on the ground. Still having no clue where we landed, I looked out the window. It was too dark to see anything though, so I yelled for Dylan. No response. I yelled again. Still no responce, “Jamie,” I shouted. Out of nowhere two guards hit me in the back and pinned me to the ground. Jamie came walking out of a door in the back of the plane. “Help,” I screamed. Jamie looked at me and said, with some tears in his eyes, “I’m sorry, Scott, but there is no other way. There is just so much money out there and Bucan wants you back.”

“How do you know Bucan said that!” I shouted at him.

“Scott, there’s something I need to tell you, I’m helping Bucan.”

“That’s not true, you can’t, you're my friend!”

“Correction, was your friend, now I’m a millionaire.” Right after he said that, Jamie took out a gun and hit me with the butt end of it. Everything became a dazed picture, and the room fell black. A bright light came piercing into my eyes, I looked around and saw Jamie and Bucan staring right at me. “Well, you're finally awake,”  Jamie said sarcastically. Everything was still a blur. The room was spinning around me, it felt like I was on one of those State Fair park rides that spin really fast. It's time to begin testing, have fun Scott, try not to fight back,” said Jamie.

“Testing on,” but before I could finish some people came by and dragged me down a hallway. I had enough, not knowing what would happen. I focused on the glass chandelier above the hallway.  Right then the glass shattered, and turned the guards into living cacti. Shards of glass fell everywhere, mostly pelted into the guards. I stood up, and went to go from find Jamie. He had glass stuck in his skin, and blood around his lips.

“Jamie, there is still time to stop!” I screamed at him.

“No, there isn’t. I already gave him the information.”

“What information!”

“You know, the missile codes.”

“No, I don’t know the missile codes. What are you talking about!”

“The government missile codes, access to all of them.” Bucan knows all of that now.

“Why would you do that, Jamie!” You were my friend!

“Money, that's why, and if I can’t have that money, then nobody can.” Jamie quickly pulled out a grenade from his back pocket, and pulled the pin.

“Jamie, no!” I screamed, but it was too late. The grenade went off, I was sent flying into a wall. The wind was knocked out of me. I heard my forearm snap! Instantly, I knew that my arm was broken. I tried to wobbly stand up, but collapsed. Blood was all over me. I didn’t know how much of the blood was mine and how much was the others.

“You have guts, kid.” I examined the wreck, looking for who said that. “You know most kids would have given up a long time ago, but you, you keep fighting.”

Still trying to figure out who was talking. I shouted, “Where are you?”

“I’m right beside you,” I glanced to my right only to see Bucan towering over me. I tried to throw a punch, but the pain hurt too much all over my body. Cuts shredded my body. “You had great potential kid, I’m sorry I have to do this to you. Bucan slowly pulled out a pistol, and aimed right at my head. Nooo! Bang! A shot fired, Bucan fell straight onto his face. Blood was coming out of his back.

“I know you wanted to put him in jail, but this was my only option Scott.”

I squeaked out the words, “Dylan?”

“Yep, alive and well.”

“How are you alive?”

“No time to talk right now, follow me, let's get out of here.” I staggerly stood up, I couldn't feel my left arm anymore. Dylan walked over to me and helped me stand. We were outside in a few minutes, next to a old red beat up SUV.

“Who brought that here?”

“Me,” Dylan said, making it sound obvious. 

“Who taught you how to drive?” I asked in wonder.

“I never told you how old I am did I? I’m sixteen, and the government taught me how to drive and hijack any car when I

was thirteen.”
“Nice, I guess.”

“Let’s get in.” Dylan shouted.

I hoped in the car with Dylan. The glove box was opened, I looked inside it. There was a folder in it saying classified. I opened the folder, it read: Agent Bucan recruited by the government at age twelve. There was a picture of fifteen kids. I continued reading, these fifteen students all died from a plane crash in Russia after a completed mission. I looked at another picture. It was a picture of the plane and marked on the plane it said B-12D. Quickly I closed the folder. Now I was off, but this time with a kid I knew about.