YOU ONLY DIE TWICE

CHAPTER ONE

The warehouse was quiet. It was nestled in the dark recesses of the city, only a few miles from the docks. But it was pretty much the rough neck of town. That would explain why the group that used it loved it. It was quiet. It was dark. And no one bothered them.

Until tonight.

Unknown to the group, someone HAD been watching them and had tipped off the agency of good, Control. The organization had been planning a raid for a couple of days now and were finally ready.

At the helm of this operation was the Chief, Maxwell Smart, a former agent of the group himself. He had gotten the idea of the night from watching a rerun of The Streets of San Francisco. And it seemed to be going well. No one even knew they were out there. And though they had wanted to catch some unsuspecting member of their rivals at KAOS inside, they hadn't seen anyone in hours.

Max didn't care. He wanted to hit this warehouse and go home. At 2 o'clock in the morning, he wanted to be in bed with his wife sleeping. But evil took no naps,nor did it sleep at night, so that's why he was there. Looking at his watch, he signaled some of the agents next to him to go ahead and move in. And like that, the warehouse was full of activity. Agents rushed in, came from the ceilings, entered in through windows. The Chief entered with the air of authority. "We're doing a search, sir," said one agent. "But it doesn't seem as though anyone's here."

"Continue looking." Max replied. "I wanna make sure this warehouse is completely empty."

The agents again spreaded out, looking any and everywhere for anything or anyone. Max began making his way to the back offices, looking around and checking corners. Most of the doors were opened and he glanced inside each, but saw no one. But in front of him was the only closed door in the hallway. Removing his gun from his jacket, he approached slowly and cautiously. Coming to a stop in front of the door, Max readied himself for anything. Mentally counting to three, he kicked the door.

Rubbing his knee, he gave a dirty look to the still closed door.

Standing and taking a deep breath, he again tried kicking it down. And unbelievably, it opened, surprising Max himself. Hugging the doorjam, he peered inside, before walking in, prepared to shoot. But no one was there. Feeling no danger and seeing no one, Max lowered his gun and smirked. It seemed Maxwell Smart had gotten the upper hand.

Until he heard it.

CLICK

His smile immediately disappeared and he gulped. His heart began beating faster and his mind began spinning. Instincts were kicking in from years of being a top spy at Control, but he had to pick one that wouldn't get him killed. But along with his instincts, his fears were also kicking in, as was adrenaline. Spinning around, Max's gun was raised, ready to shoot. Unfortunately, one of the two gunmen's reaction was too slow.

Maxwell Smart wouldn't have the upper hand tonight.

It seemed like an eternity, but when the bullet hit him, it knocked him backwards and on to the floor. At first Max just thought he had been grazed, that he was suffering from shock. But then he felt the terrible pain coming from his chest and realized he was hit.

Bad.

Now, Max had been shot before, it came with being an international symbol of spies. He couldn't remember how many times he'd been shot in the arm, but the chest? He could't remember how many times he'd been shot in the chest. That was because he had never been shot in the chest before. Max winced as he took a breath. Things weren't going well at all. His breathing was shallow and he could hear agents in the background, but their voices were too far away. Everyone had split up and it would seem that Max was the only one to check out the back rooms.

The room was dark, but things seemed to be getting darker. Max knew if he didn't keep his wits about him, he'd die on the very floor he lay. But it was getting hard to do. He was tired and he could barely keep his eyes open. The former agent managed to place his hand over the wound, to stop the bleeding, but it seemed too late. His shirt was soaked and he felt sticky from it coagulating around his back. His hand fell next to him. He couldn't keep this up.

Before he knew it, the room grew dim, and Maxwell Smart was drowned in darkness.