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Of all the missions he’d been on, he’d never faced a problem quite like this—one where he was pretty sure he had no visible exit. The walls of the abandoned facility loomed like a fortress, the flickering lights casting odd shapes.
Alex leaned against a cold concrete wall, taking in the desolate surroundings. The irony - he thought. He’d almost shot the prime minister, he’d been cloned by a madman and nearly been dissected by him, he was this close to being adopted by a war general, he’d been to space, and even gotten shot. Hell - he would have died if not for the fact that he sidestepped from the pavement at the right time.
He’d been stabbed, sliced, shot and marred mentally and physically by wounds that should in fact decommission any normal adult - let alone a child. But here he was, in an unknown facility, trapped within concrete slabs.
He tucked his hands into his pockets and kicked a loose pebble, watching it skitter across the floor, his teenage brain allowing him a blessed few seconds of grumbling before the hairs on his back stood up on reflex upon hearing footsteps echoing in the distance, pulling him back to reality. He tightened his grip on the small, Swiss army knife he always carried.
With cautious steps, he approached the set of heavy metal doors and flanked the wall beside it - he was ready for a sneak attack, and besides, the doors looked far too heavy for him to be able to push about anyways.
The door swung open on one side, as if the person on the other end had been expecting Alex to play a trick or plan ahead, just like he had been.
Alex's heart raced, and he was pretty sure his breathing had stopped too.
“Looking for an exit, are we little Alex?”