Miles Froghorn took another swig from his beer bottle and belched. He was drunk. Very drunk. He stumbled against the wall with a peeling advertisement and vomited. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he dragged himself forward. Now where was he? Along the waterfront, near the old Spectrum entrance. Suddenly Froghorn had the mad, stupid idea to go there. Why not? He had plenty of time. He branched off the path and somehow found the drain hole in the marsh by the river. He threw his beer bottle over his shoulder and it landed in the water with a splash. With strength that came from nowhere, Froghorn pulled the rusted cover off with a heave and a yell. Without stopping for a second Froghorn climbed down the hole. It stank of rotting food and damp, but Froghorn hardly noticed. Reaching the bottom he found the ancient light switch. An old lightbulb flickered in the center of the room, casting the faintest of light in the empty hallway. Froghorn unconsciously hung his jacket onto a rotting clothes peg and walked down the hall. A wave of memories when he was a child struck him. He could remember his father leading him down this very corridor, smiling fondly as his son gazed round in wonder. He could remember meeting a handsome young man with wavy dark hair, dark eyes and a perfect smile. He could remember an outstandingly pretty young woman smoking sitting at a chair smoking a cigarette and laughing. The handsome man had ruffled his hair and hung him upside down. He remembered the young woman laughing even more vividly,"Put him down Bradley!" she had said. Froghorn clenched his fist. Bradley Baker had died in an air accident over the French Alps years ago. His father had been on the same plane. Baker was the best and most talented agent Spectrum had ever seen, the world had ever seen. His father had been a highly respected agent. How had Spectrum remembered them? By hiring another young agent, leaving Bradley Baker in the past, to slowly become more and more faded until no one would remember what he looked like, what he had done. It was all that wretched Redfort's fault. She thought herself so smart, solving those five cases by herself. So when that man, that handsome man with those hypnotizing eyes had proposed they work together to bring down that horrid agent Redfort, embarrass her so much she would never dare show her face at Spectrum again, he had surprised himself by his hesitation. Did he hate Redfort that much? After much drunken thought Froghorn had come to the conclusion he did. Of course he did. So he did these little favors for the nice man. He could never remember them afterwards. All he could remember was the hatred he felt to that obnoxious little girl who considered herself to be the greatest agent in existence. Froghorn howled and flung his second beer bottle at the wall in despair. It shattered, its contents flying everywhere. But even through his drunken haze Froghorn could make out something on the wall. Upon closer inspection, Froghorn found it was an arrow. A blood red arrow. Still dripping wet. Under it in the same writing was the words, 'this way my boy.' Froghorn frowned. This message was for him? He staggered round the corner, only to find another arrow, then another. Froghorn worked his way unknowingly through the old Spectrum HQ, finally ending up in the big, spacious meeting room reserved for talks to all the agents. There was a table in the middle of the room. He could make out something black and lumpy. But Froghorn was more attracted to the beer on the table. It was a party seven pack, and Froghorn lunged for it greedily. It was only when he had downed all of the drinks that he turned to the lumpy thing. Froghorn laughed. Lumpy. What a strange word. He hiccuped as he pulled the black cover off the lumpy thing. How strange. It was a man. He appeared to be sleeping. Froghorn laughed again. What an idiotic place to go to sleep. He decided to inspect. Maybe the man had more beer. Froghorn's agent instincts kicked in, and he conducted a full body scan. Still no beer. Froghorn reached under the mans shirt. His fingers closed around a round bottle. With a cry of triumph he pulled his arm out. How strange. He had never seen a beer bottle with a fully red cover before. He grew suspicious. Maybe it was cola. But then Froghorn noticed the beer's red colour was dripping down his arms, and he registered that the man's eyes were wide open and his mouth opened to let out a scream.
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Ruby Redfort was rudely awoken by the constant ringing of her latest phone, one in the shape of a cloud.
"Redfort matress house, we sell it cheap, you get some sleep." said Ruby with a yawn.
"Quit yacking and get down to HQ. Hitch is already here." Came LB's gravelly voice. Ruby held up a hand.
"Can't this wait for tomorrow?" LB swore through the phone. Man, thought Ruby, LB must be pretty darn mad.
"No this can't wait for tomorrow Redfort! Get yourself down at HQ now!" Ruby sighed.
"Alright, coming." there was a murmur at the other end of the phone. Hitch suddenly spoke. He sounded exhausted and for some reason, really sad.
"Ruby, Blacker's here." Ruby perked up. Whatever it was, she was glad Blacker was there to help her though it.
"Tell him I say hi." there was silence on the other end. "Hey?" inquired Ruby.
"Blacker's dead Ruby." said Hitch. "That's why you're needed in HQ." Ruby said nothing. She, for the fifth time in two days, was tongue tied.
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I had chills while writing this chapter.
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Ruby Redfort Fanfiction: Look Into His Eyes And Take Your Last Breath
FanficMeet Ruby Redfort, a super cool teenage wannabe spy. She's been through thick and thin and survived things from a giant sand timer to a legendary sea monster to invisible thieves to mythical wolves. She's already one of the most experienced agents i...