Inspired by a prompt over at Featured Fiction, a blog which has a variety of brilliant and really unique prompts. I would definitely recommend checking out if you fancy writing something different đ
It’s unedited again, and was just for a bit of quick fun in a genre I haven’t tried before đ
Prompts:
Sentence starter: We fed on blind adventure, devouring each course it laid.
Suggested genre: Action-Adventure// Subgenre: Spy-Fiction
Featured Words: Wheel, Camera, Picture
Suggested Theme: On the surface your new assignment is a walk in the park. The fun starts when you dig a little deeper, and discover a secret even you canât put back in the box.
–
Always Read the Label
We fed on blind adventure, devouring each course it laid. Well, that was until the course laid out, opened its jaws and swallowed us whole.
My God, what had we uncoveredâŠ
***
Half an hour earlier.
âYou know, I really hate guard dogs.â Max groaned, doubling over and resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
I chuckled. âYeah, well, I donât think they like you much either.â Swiping my thumb across the screen of my iPhone, I noted the clock speeding down its blazing green numbers quicker than I would have liked. âAt least they didnât sniff us out. Come on, we only got half an hour before Coltan gets back.â
Max nodded, straightened himself out and then we both dashed through the formal gardens, the once lush green foliage of the topiary hedges dyed an inky black by the midnight sky.
Coltan Hunter, tycoon and billionaire. Two traits I didnât like in a man; both tended to turn anybody, male or female, into a greedy, manipulative jerk with no thought of others. But his personality wasnât my problem, his monopoly over the vitamin pill market was.
Corporate espionage had failed when the company I was hired by couldnât find anything on Coltanâs new wonder drug and their infiltrators had been discovered. So, in the end, theyâd resorted to real espionage, hiring me and Max to break into Coltanâs manor house and take a peak in his most private office, where there had to be something on the pill everyone had suddenly gone crazy for.
Dressed in a rather cliché, black, form-fitting suit, I could dodge the laser alarms and pressure plates with ease. Coming to the towering white stonewall of the house, I leapt upwards, grabbing onto a drainpipe, which sprouted from the ground and all the way to the top floor and our goal.
Max grunted as he followed up behind me, shuffling his muscled bulk up the- surprisingly sturdy- pipe. âI really hate drain pipes.â
âYou donât like anything, Max,â I said, shuffling my feet up before attempting to the same with my hands, my knuckles whitening as I gripped on for all I was worth. âDid you even consider what would be involved in becoming a spy?â
âYes,â Max said, and as I glanced over my shoulder I caught a flash of a grin.
I rolled my eyes. âApart from the women and money?â
His grin fell.
The window was ajar when we reached it, no bars or apparent alarms to hinder us any further. Clambering inside, I took out my can of spray, the contents hissing out of it as I pressed the button on the top.
No lasers.
I frowned. Something didnât feel right.
Max didnât have the reservations I did, flicking a triumphant smile my way before heading further into the shadowed room. âSometimes we get lucky, itâs like spinning a fortune wheel and seeing where it lands,â he said with a shrug, after I explained my worries over there being little security.
I sighed and stared about the room, trying to settle my building nerves. It was a spacious office, with bookshelf-lined walls, a carpet so plush my boots sank into it, and a giant mahogany desk sitting pride of place in the centre.
As Max shuffled through the papers splayed on the desk and whipped open drawers to investigate inside, I trailed around the room, still searching for hidden tripwires. Between the bookshelves, hung at regular intervals, were photos and diplomas; the photos were of a balding Coltan posing with a variety of high-up officials, and the diplomas detailed the many degrees heâd accumulated from various universities.
âWerenât we supposed to find the ingredient list for Coltanâs new pill?â Max asked from behind me. I tore my eyes away from a picture, Coltanâs captured image leering out from the frame, and nodded at Max.
He was hunched over the desk, a manila folder in hand and a brow lining his chiselled face. He thinned his lips. âI think we just found something so much worse.â
âWhat?â I huffed and traipsed to his side, conscious of the bleeping in my pocket, my iPhone yelling at me that we had only minutes before Coltan returned from whatever charity function heâd been attending that night.
But the timer was forgotten as soon as I glanced down at the folder, the stark white papers blazing with red ink.
I couldnât even take a gasp of shocked breath as I stared at it. âMy godâŠâ I breathed. âThis isnât a vitamin pill.â I flicked my gaze up to Max, his face drained of colour.
The white paper and red words were lost as a streaking pain pierced my side.
I hadnât even heard the guards open the door, but I felt their bullets slice through my body. Slumping to the ground, I gritted my teeth to bear the searing pain like fire in my lungs. I stumbled to find the camera on my phone, desperate to send a photo of the file to someone, anyone!
But it was too late.
The last thing I remember was the rich carpet hugging me as I spluttered my final breath.