The boy sprinted down the empty corridor, his shoes scuffing silently against the grey linoleum floors. His face was splattered with random patches of blood, and there was the rip of a bullet in his shoulder, however this didn't stop him from continuing. He carried a gun in his hand as he ran, smiling a little to himself. He always enjoyed the chase more than the fighting. It was the waiting, the hiding. That always kept his adrenaline running at a high.He slowed to a smooth stop at the end of the corridor, sticking to the shadows as he flattened himself against the white wall's corner. He wore all black clothes; thin Lycra trousers and a tight black t-shirt. Over this, his black biker jacket was flapping against his chest as he breathed ruggedly.He hid the gun at his side as he peeked around the corner. There were two men in suits at the end, waiting for the elevator. They seemed in no rush, merrily chatting to each other in conversation. One of these men carried a briefcase.That
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