The night air was tight with tension as Alex crouched behind a row of polished silver shelves, eyeing the alarm system as if it were some stubborn puzzle. The hum of high-tech security cameras overhead sounded like a hive of angry bees; with each second passing, the thinner Alex's patience got. The mission brief had promised a simple in and out, but they knew better.

"Agent Alex," the cracked voice of Director Collins came over the earpiece. "Status update?"

Alex looked at the laser grid across the narrow hallway. "Status is... seriously reconsidering life choices," he muttered to himself as he stared at the blinking red lights. "Did you know I failed agility training? They kept me around for my charm."

"Please, focus," Collins sighed.

Alex smiled, fighting down the rush of excitement rising up his spine. "Copy that, sir. Grace and finesse engaged." In one breath, Alex turned, sidestepping one laser after another. Not exactly like a cat; rather, more like a raccoon with good reflexes. 

"Collins," Alex whispered into his earpiece, "can't you ever assign me to something simple? Like guarding a potted plant?

An exaggerated sigh came across the earpiece from Collins. "Unfortunately, plants don't often need espionage agents. Now, move along."

Biting his lip in amusement, Alex moved through the grid and barely avoided tripping the last set of lasers before he was finally at the vault door. He pulled out a handheld scanner and waited for the comforting beep as it hacked the lock.

And… nothing.

Alex scowled, shook it, then glared at it. It beeped once and then fizzled out in their hand.

"Perfect," Alex whispered, rolling his eyes. "Brought all the spy gear, left out the batteries."

"Problem, Agent?" Collins's tone was dry.

"Not at all, sir, just, you know—improvising." Alex reached into his boot and pulled out a paperclip. "Going analog."

Collins said nothing, but sometimes silence speaks louder than words. Alex shrugged and jammed the clip into the lock. Just a little more turning... come on... A click, and the vault was open. Alex grinned.

"See?" he whispered. "Wouldn't I be the most entertaining contestant on a spy reality show?"

"Focus, Alex."

Inside the vault, Alex spotted what he was after: a small, silver flash drive, enclosed in a metal case. He snatched it and whirled to leave, triumph bubbling inside.

And that's when everything went sideways.

A loud siren echoed through the room, blinding red lights dancing across the walls around them. The alarm's blaring announcement made Alex wince.

"INTRUDER ALERT. SECTOR B" 

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Alex spat, racing toward the door just as the cacophony of running footsteps crescendoed.

He ran down a hall, almost overshooting a tiny stairwell. Sliding to stop, he saw a storage closet and dove inside, his back against a shelving unit of cleaning supplies.

"Alex?" Collins's voice was painful and cautious. "Is everything... under control?"

"Oh, absolutely, sir," Alex mumbled, wincing as he looked down and found he'd taken a wrong step into a mop bucket. "Just taking a little... detour."

"Please tell me you got the intel," Collins answered, as close to an exasperated parental tone as possible.

"Got it right here," Alex patted the pocket with the flash drive. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think it's about time for my graceful exit.

Just as Alex peered out from the closet, the guards' footsteps grew louder down the hall. Finding a window, he winced and pried it open.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Don't even think about it," warned Collins's voice.

"Already thought about it," Alex replied, climbing up to the windowsill. He took a deep breath, never waiting for a second, and then leaped.

He landed in a roll on the grass outside, just as the alarms blared louder above them.

"You're really pushing your luck," Collins muttered through the earpiece.

Alex grinned, brushing dirt from his sleeve as he jogged toward the getaway car—a sleek black sedan parked with its lights off. As the window rolled down, revealing the exhausted expression of the driver, Alex slipped into the passenger seat.

"Trouble, Alex?

Just the usual," Alex said between gasps of air. "Drive us out of here before they realize they've been robbed by someone who nearly drowned in a mop bucket."

The car launched into the night, leaving chaos in its wake. For the first time, Alex was able to relax, leaning back in his seat to enjoy the thrill of their narrow escape.

"Good work tonight," Collins's voice crackled in the earpiece. "Though your methods remain... unique."

"Oh, come on, sir, admit it—you'd be bored if I wasn't keeping you on your toes."

"Traditional methods work perfectly well," Collins replied dryly. "Now, report to HQ in the morning. We have... a new assignment."

Alex perked up. "Another break-in? Surveillance? Assassination prevention?"

Collins paused. "Something like that."

---

The next morning, Alex sauntered into headquarters with a cup of coffee in his hand, whistling a tune. Agents in pressed uniforms bustled about, some nodding to him and others merely staring. Alex's reputation for wild missions had earned him a degree of fame, but he seemed to take it in stride.

"Agent Alex," Collins greeted as he walked into his office. "Take a seat.

Alex fell more than sat into his chair, sure of himself in a casual way. "So, what's the mission? Foreign dignitary protection? Infiltrating a high-stakes poker game?"

"Not… exactly." Collins slid a thick folder across the desk. Alex raised an eyebrow as he took the folder and flipped it open.

"Max Monroe?" Alex looked over the glossy pages of celebrity cutouts and paparazzi shots of a handsome actor—all charm and dazzling smiles. "He's… an actor?

"A high-profile actor," Collins returned, lacing his fingers across his desk. "He's been receiving a series of... disturbing letters from a rather intense fan. Management insists that we assign someone with... patience."

Alex groaned, slumping in the chair. "You can't be serious, sir. My specialty is national security, not dealing with overzealous fans. Send Johnson or, I don't know, someone with actual patience."

Johnson has patience. You have adaptability, which is what we need here. Besides, Mr. Monroe's last security detail resigned after he locked them out of his mansion because, quote, 'they killed his vibe.'"

"They killed his vibe? Vibing is not actually my  specialty." Alex groaned, rubbing his forehead. "You want me to babysit a celebrity?"

"He's had three security details quit in the last month. Apparently, he's... difficult to work with.

Alex opened the folder again, squinting down at the series of increasingly chaotic tabloid headlines.

"Let me get this straight—you want me to go from breaking into vaults to playing personal security for Hollywood's most notorious diva?"

Collins's lip twitched. "That's correct."

Alex blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. "But... what am I supposed to do if he throws a fit over, I don't know, a missed latte?"

Adapt," Collins replied, deadpan. "You leave in two days. Monroe will be filming on location, and you'll need to blend in with his entourage.

Alex flipped to another page in the file, where listed among Monroe's myriad pet peeves included everything from strong perfumes to anyone whistling within a fifty-foot radius. The file was crammed with stories of tantrums over wardrobe issues, meltdowns over missed appointments, and at least one involving a missing avocado toast.

"Sir, this man has... needs," Alex said. "Very specific, very particular needs."

"That's why they asked for you," Collins said, deadpan. "If anyone can keep up, it's you."

"But—"

Collins's voice was gentle. "It's time for a change of pace, Alex. You're good, but... your approach needs refining."

Alex crossed his arms. "Babysitting isn't refining. It's… madness."

"I have every confidence that you'll figure it out." Collins stood, extending a hand with a look that made it clear the conversation was over. "Good luck, Alex. You're going to need it."

Alex glanced back down at the folder, now with the distinct feeling of dread settling in. "I'm going to need. so much coffee."

Collins hid a smile. "Better start stocking up."

---

Later that evening, Alex sat at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey and muttering to himself. He flipped through the thick folder on Max Monroe, tabbed color and filled with post-it notes. 

"So he hates when anyone's standing too close but also hates feeling lonely?" They groused, reading through. "What is he, a cat?"

The bartender gave Alex a sympathetic look, glancing down at the folder. "Tough assignment?"

"You could say that," Alex replied with a sigh, closing the file. "Just traded in breaking into secure buildings for babysitting a Hollywood heartthrob. I'm going to be holding his oat milk and fending off stalkers."

The bartender chuckled. "Gotta say, sounds more challenging than your regular nine-to-five."

You don't know the half of it." Alex tossed back the rest of his drink. "Anyway, his last security detail seemed to have written a memoir entitled My Time in Hollywood: Surviving a Diva."

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Sounds. memorable."

"Or a nightmare," Alex said, dropping a tip on the bar and snagging the file. "But hey, maybe I'll surprise myself.

He glanced down at the face of the celebrity on the cover of the file as he exited the bar. Max Monroe, he thought, shaking his head. Well, this is going to either be the easiest month of my life... or a complete disaster.