Random Babbling

Hello, people. I'm done with my homework, so I can just randomly post things. Deathwriter, did you know that we have to learn spanish out here? Goodness! So annoying. Probably valuable, though. If you ever want to create a language, you have to learn Latin roots. Spanish has Latin roots. *SIGH* I've just read the Pendragon series 'till book seven. If you like sci-fi, Pendrgaon kicks butt. Of course, even if you don't like sci-fi and you don't even read the series, it still stays on the library shelf, kicking butt. And I know the library in your town has the series, Deathwriter, so don't tell me that you can't get it. By the way, where on earth are those traitorous Pageknights, Sam, Dylan, and Derek? Probably busy with sports.
Oh well. Read any good books lately? Put a review in the comments. Oh! I have an idea! I'll start writing a story, and write and write and write. Of course, it will have to be very to-the-point. Here goes!

Spy Guy
By Pageknight

One word passed through the spy's head as he snatched the plans, setting off the alarm. "Crap". Yep. That was the word. You don't believe me? Too bad. It was "Crap". The spy ran to the window as the guards poured in. The room was tall, and quite like a warehouse. But it was clean. And heavily armed. And employed by bad people. Namely, the Baron Von Brahtwurst and his goons. Yes, that was his name. Yes, was his name. He dies at the end. No,no! Don't leave! You don't know how he dies! It's interesting! Believe me!
Where was I. Oh, yeah. The guards firing, filling the room with a light cloud of smoke. And the precipitation from these clouds? Rain. A rain of bullets, that is. Sparks flew as the bullets slammed into the metal pillar Spy Guy dived behind. The plans safely hidden in his jacket, Spy Guy pulled himself up to the next catwalk. Then the next. All the while, dodging bullets. A bullet seared past Spy Guy's cheek, leaving a slight cut and a drop of blood.
Spy Guy was fed up. A bullet wound, angry guards, and a villian whose name sounded curiously like German poultry goods. Pulling out a vial from his pocket, the spy admired it, then tossed it into the fray far, far below. The second it shattered, a huge billow of smoke flew into the air, blinding all those who it came in contact with.
Putting his hands in front of him like a shield, Spy Guy took a running start, then smashed through the window. I know what you're thinking. Ouch. That has got to hurt, cutting himself on all that glass. But he didn't. Spy Guy was proffessional. Shards of supposedly bulletproof glass rained down on the docks below the window sill. In reality, the guy who sold them the glass was a cheapskate. Sold them ordinary glass windows. Lived to regret it, though. The Baron sent some thugs to his place. That window-seller sleeps with the fishes now.
Anyway, the spy flew through the air, forming himself into a human wedge. He hit the water with a perfect dive, cutting through without so much as a ripple. Thanking his lucky stars for his water-proof jacket pocket, the spy made his way to the other side of the river.
Once getting out of the water, the spy made for his pre-planned cache of dry clothes. Accompanying the clothes was a mini crossbow bow with 50 bolts. That would be useful. The spy's clothes also contained a key for his 2006 black Ferrari Enzo, specially souped up so that it could go from 0 mph to 150 in a heartbeat. The handling was great, complete with equipment that allowed him, if he wanted to, the drive on a 170-degree surface. Nearly upside-down. Any way, Spy Guy made his way over to this awesomely-sweet machine and hopped in. As if on a cue (or just because it's suspenseful), four sleek Mustangs pulled out of the Baron's parking lot, each car containing a driver and an armed guard.
Spy Guy smiled, then floored it onto the freeway, with the Mustangs in hot pursuit.

All I have so far. Bedtime. (too early)