And yet another pathetically short drabble...
Alex was stalking along a corridor. He took a moment to survey his surroundings in search of cover and scowled as he looked at the minimalist décor and its evident lack of hiding places. He would just have to hope he wasn't spotted then.
He was in a reasonably large house and the thick, new-looking carpet under his feet told him that the owners enjoyed their creature comforts. The walls were wall-papered with pictures of small birds and as the teenage spy slipped into a room he assumed to be a living room, he was glad to see that this room at least had sofas he could duck behind, positioned around an enormous flat-screen TV.
Straining his ears Alex listened for footsteps. Nothing but the faint buzz of traffic on the street outside was to be heard. Letting out a breath of relief Alex set about to find a way out of the building. Judging by the light pouring in through the window it would soon be noon and Alex needed to be free of the place by then because then the owners of the house would return and he wasn't sure what they would do if they found him skulking around.
Slipping through another door, the blonde closed it quietly and blinked a few times, acclimatizing himself to the dark. Here the curtains hadn't been drawn and the faint glow permeating the room cast heavy shadows. A dark shape in the corner made Alex flinch at the same time as he stepped on something soft. He jumped backward tense before scowling at the statue and picking up the cushion lying on the floor to put it out of his way.
Crossing the room silently, he opened the door a crack and peered out into the light of another room. The front door was just in front of him. Just a few metres away and all he had to do was walk out of the door.
Alex hadn't gone more than two steps when he heard the footsteps. There was a sharp crack behind the teenager as he spun round into a defensive position. There was a gun pressed to his chest and the spy tensed as he watched a finger pull the trigger. There was a load bang and a tiny trail of smoke dribbled out of the small weapon. Alex pressed a hand to the front of his shirt as something wet and red soaked into the material. The person holding the gun smirked.
"Got you!"
The six-year-old beamed up at Alex in delight as the sixteen-year-old scowled at the mess on his clothes. Pulling the 'gun' out of the child's hands he handed it over to James Hale who promptly shoved it in his pocket. This was the last time he agreed to help his friend babysit.
"You never told me the thing spits paint as well as makes a racket," growled Alex to his friend who was trying to hide his grin.
PLEASE review! Me, I accept anything and everything, even just =) or =( or 'good' or 'so damn awful you should be executed on the spot'... Please?
