He checked everywhere. He opened drawers, looked in files, even checked under the computer mats. But he can't seem to find the one thing he needs: his screwdriver.
Somehow, during training, one of Babycake's screws came loose, and now every time she moves, the tracks seem to drag.
Spike run his hands over his head, frustrated and tired. He wanted to go home, but when you think about it, dragging tracks equals a slower bomb device. And that's not good for a mission. So here he was, alone in The Barn, searching at his desk first, then everybody else's, messing stuff up as he go. All just for a damn, mini screwdriver.
He looked everywhere. Everywhere, except… no, it can't be there. Could it? Even if it was, nobody was allowed in there except for the Sarge. Not even Ed can go in there. It was because of something valuable in there, or something like that.
He bit his lip, nervous. He looked up, seeing if anyone else is around here. "Hello! Yoo-hoo! Anybody here!" The only response was his echo, bouncing across the place untill it faded away. Then, silence. I'll take that as a no.
He started to walk, at a slow pace, his boots loudly hitting the floor. The more steps he took, the more nervous he becomes. Just look in there, be quick, and then go. He drilled to himself, trying to keep calm. But it only calm his nerves 1%. Finally, he reached his destination, the 1 place that, for the first time, he was going to walk in. The Sarge's office. So why not celebrate it?
"One small step for man," he quoted, taking a step, then he leaped. "One giant… OOF! OWWW." He suddenly found himself on the floor, papers everywhere. And for some reason, a searing pain in his hand. What the… he lifted his hand to see what happened to it. Goddangit, of all things... his hand was covered in glass, blood seeping out of every corner.
He quickly grabbed the closest item to a bandage he could find, which was next to the glass, and wrapped his hands around it. Which was paper, but in the situation he's in now, he doesn't care. He quickly left out the office, worrying about the mess later, ran to Winnie's desk, grabbed the box full of bandages and cutters, and immediately went to operate on the now numb hand.
5 wraps around, and 1 cut later, he was fixed. A little bit dizzy, but not dizzy enough to worry about. He picked up the half red paper that was covering his had a few minutes ago to see if it was a document that he could print up, and the Sarge would never know the difference. (Unless it was signed).
It was blank. It's the back dummy, what do you think? Hmmm… It feels like some kind of… PHOTO! His eyes popped wide open, heart started to race like it was entering the Indy 500, and his body starting to shake just a slight bit. He flipped it over, hoping it wasn't what he thought it was, praying to God it wasn't it.
He dropped the photo, tears suddenly trying to fall down, his heart now in mixed emotions. Fear for the trouble he would be in, angry at himself for picking it up. But the one that really getting him: sadness and anguish.
Because that picture, that picture may never be duplicated again.
CLIFFHANGER! (Evil laugh!)