“ What have I done? ” is one of the millions of thoughts that are encircling my mind as I dart up the rocky path. If I don't reach the clock soon, I'll be as dead as a hot bowl of mince. By now, you probably want to know what happened; I’ll start at the beginning of this story. “What the heck is that?” I ask in confusion as I glance up at the clock on the hill. The hill is rocky and barren, with clusters of thyme growing together in bunches. Mountain bike trails twist and weave around the hill. Sitting on the hill is the Alexandra Clock. The clock is MASSIVE, with a diameter of 11 metres.

Both of the hands weigh approximately 270 kilos. But that's not what I’m looking at. Weirdly, the clock is glowing green today, with an unmistakable hum of energy coming from somewhere inside the clock. “I reckon it's turned into a massive laser can non, a bit like the deathstar in Star Wars.” Ethan exclaims with a laugh. I don't laugh. Instead, I turn around and punch him in the guts. “Oooof. Damn, what was that for, Ben?” Ethan asks with a look of pain spread across his face. Ethan is small, but strong for his height. He has spiky brown hair and always tries to be the ‘funny guy’. Suddenly, I feel a strong hand clasp my shoulder. “Come with me,” a gruff voice says.

A blindfold slips over my eyes, and I’m plunged into darkness. I can hear voices talking. It sounds really official because they say all these big words like ‘clandestine’ and ‘counterintelligence’. I mean, who in their right mind would use words with SIX SYLLABLES ?! While I’m thinking about why they would be using such BIG words, someone takes off my blindfold. I have to squint to adjust my eyes to the brightness. I look around and realise Ethan is on my left, looking around in confusion. We’re sitting at the end of a long table set in the middle of a really modern looking boardroom. Fluorescent lights streak down the pale white ceiling.

At the other end of the long table is a man with slicked back hair with a suit and tie. His voice booms down the table, “What do you know about the Alexandra Secret Services?” the man asks. I glance at Ethan in confusion. “Errr, what do you mean sir?” Ethan asks. “Let me explain…” the man says. “In the year 1955, when Alexandra and Cromwell were starting to gain in population, a man called Justin Case started a spy organisation called Alexandra Secret Services.” “Not exactly an acronym that strikes fear into the heart of enemies,” Ethan whispers to me across the table. The man in the suit starts talking again.

“The A.S.S is a group of 12-18 year olds serving as spies and secret agents. In the late 1960’s, agents working for A.S.S made a giant laser cannon in the shape of a clock. “Around this time, Cromwell started making an organisation called C.Y.S.T, aka the Cromwell Youth Spy Team. We have discovered that they have recently been working on a collection of atomic bombs. They placed these bombs right where everyone could see them.” “That must be a real pain in the A.S.S.” Ethan says with a smirk. The man carries on. “C.Y.S.T have disguised these bombs as giant fruit.

Everyone thinks that the fruit is just a big monument, but really, the truth is much more sinister.” The man lets these words sink in for a couple of seconds, before delivering the final blow. “Ethan, Ben? I want you to join the A.S.S.” I look over at Ethan in surprise. His eyes are nearly popping out of their sockets. “Yeah sure!” he says, giddy with excitement. “I expect you to do the job well. We hired you because the last man we chose for a job let us down. There used to be a solid mountain range between Alexandra and Cromwell, but this idiot got on the controls for the laser cannon and blasted a massive gorge in the mountain.

Some others started calling it the ‘Cromwell Gorge.’ The man fled shortly after he used the laser, but we tracked him down. Legally, he was still working for the A.S.S, so we fired him. From a cannon… into a blackberry bush,” the man adds. “Anyway, you two need codenames. Ben, you will be Agent X.” “COOL! I've always wanted one of those awesome spy names,” I say excitedly. “Ethan, your codename will be agent Spud.” “ Aaaaawww come on,” Ethan moans in despair, “How come I always get the crappy nicknames? For goodness sake, I’ve been named after a potato. ” The man ignores him. “Your mission will start tomorrow at exactly 0300 hours.

It is to find out what's going on with the bomb in Cromwell and report back to me at approximately 1455 hours. Good luck, agents.” the man says as he slowly walks out of the room. Ethan and I look at each other. Ethan's eyes say it all: What kind of nutter expects us to get up at 3.00am in the morning? TIME: 0300 HOURS I rub my groggy eyes and yawn as I walk up to the clock on the hill, where Agent Spud and I were meant to meet to start the mission.

It's still dark, and the LEDs set in the clock face blind me as I walk up the rocky path.I feel the cold, frosty morning air on my face and my breath comes out in wisps of steam. As I reach the top of the track, I gasp. Agent Spud isn't up here. Something’s off, I realise. I turn around and see a man with the 4 letters C.Y.S.T engraved on his suit. He lifts a gun and- BANG! He shoots and I crumble to the ground. The last thing I see is a boy about my age walking out from behind the man. In my last moments, I realise; it's Ethan. SNAP! My eyes open and I’m awake.

I must have been sent into a coma because my memory is slightly foggy and warped . I try to sit up, but I’m bound to a prison-like bench and my wrists are bound with rope. I wrestle the ropes off with a tug and look around. My first thought is that it looks like a prison. Grey walls dominate everything around me. Not a spot of bright colour punches through the monochrome. It's cold. Really cold. The chill soaks through my skin as I huddle to keep warm. Voices come towards the cell I’m encased in. The voices grow louder, then the solid metal door swings open. “HELP!” I yell as I back up against the cold, hard wall.

One man and one woman walk into the cell. They both have C.Y.S.T engraved in their suits. “We have come to transport you to the location.” The man says robotically. Then, as if being programmed by a computer, they both walk forward and seize me by my ankles. I yell as they drag me into a sleek black sports car, put me in the back and drive off. A screen comes up between the two back seats and two front seats and once again, I’m trapped. I look out the window and take in the surroundings. A familiar buzz goes through my head; We’re in Cromwell, I realise. We drive for two more minutes until we pull up at the location.

The car is parked in the carpark underneath the giant fruit in Cromwell. A lawn of freshly mown grass sits underneath the hulking sculpture. I jump out of the car, and I’m moved to the bottom of the fruit. I can see Ethan, standing smugly at the bottom of the fruit. I walk up to him and growl "What do you want?” Ethan laughs and whispers in my ear “Listen carefully. There is an atomic bomb hidden in the clock on the hill that is set to detonate in a couple of hours. I’m not meant to be telling you this, but I am still on your side. I was on your side the whole time.

The fruit is just a distraction so that C.Y.S.T can detonate the bomb without anyone finding it beforehand.” As I listen to him, I ask “what do we do about it, then?” He thinks about it for a few seconds before replying. “On the count of three, we run for the car, get in, and drive away.” My eyes widen as I realise what he is saying. “You ready?” he asks. “ I sure am.” “Okay,” he replies, “One, two…” “Three.” We sprint for the car. Before anyone notices what's going on, Ethan and I are in the car and igniting the V12 engine. It purrs to life and Ethan slams on the accelerator. This was a car that sneered at speed limits.

“DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DRIVE?!” I yell over the roar of the engine. “NO!” he replies as we speed over the bridge. I look in the rearview mirror and see two motorbikes chasing us in pursuit. “GO, GO, GO!” I yell as we drift around corners. When we make it to the clock, we both jump out of the car and run up the rocky track. Hopefully the motorbikes won’t make it all the way up. Ethan bounds up the path just metres in front of me. I feel the rocks crunch under my feet and think about how bad the timing would be if I was to roll an ankle while running up the track.

As we reach the clock, I see a man standing in our way. “Congratulations,” he says. “You have passed the test.” “What test?” I ask breathlessly as I search for the bomb. “You don’t get it do you?” The man asks. “This was all a test.” I stop in my tracks. “You mean that ALL OF THIS was a test? Even the motorbikers?” I look down at the bikers and see them waving at me. I look back at the man and see that he’s holding two badges; one for Ethan and one for me. “Welcome to the A.S.S.” the man says with a smile.