(As the title says, I found this in the back of my computer files. I didn't realize I still had it! This was written... last year, I believe. I got the idea from a TV show, though the story is mine. Basically, there was a line from the show that sparked my imagination... happens often with me. Anyway, here it is. I'll probably get into rewriting it soon. )
It was dark in the alleyway, the moon shining dimly overhead. A pair of black, beady eyes glinted, before a large gray mouse leaped out of the shadows, swinging around just in time to dodge sharp teeth. The mouse skidded, flicking his half-ear. He had lost the other half of it during another battle. The snake in front of him hissed sinisterly, banded brown tail whipping around to its side. Then, without warning, it lunged for the rodent, barely missing as the mouse jumped up.
“Nice move, Hookfang,” The mouse commented in a sly tone, landing on the ground not too far away. “One would think you’d done this before.”
“Such big talk for a rodent,” Hookfang, the snake, retorted, shaking his head, before sliding around to face the creature. “But you won’t be talking for long, pathetic scrap of fur.”
The mouse winked. “Scrap is my name, after all.”
“Enough of your games!” Hookfang lunged for the mouse again, this time his long fangs showing.
Scrap leaped to the side, scratching his tiny claws over Hookfang’s eyes. It was a small hit, and didn’t cause any injury, but it distracted the snake long enough for him to dash off into the rubble that lined the dark pavement. He panted, constantly glancing over his shoulder as he bolted for safety- the old bank. Not even the dumbest snake would go to that place. Only the mice of the city would enter.
As he slid in through the open door, paws burning on the rough carpet, he slowed his pace, scurrying in the direction of a small hole in the tawny-colored wall. He followed the small, dark tunnel until entering a small square-shaped room. There were many other mice here, lying about.
“Scrap!” A voice made him jump. He recognized Greg’s voice, and turned to see the black rat holding something in his paws. “Status report!”
“What’s it like out there?” An albino rat named Debra asked, breaking into a coughing fit afterwords. Scrap knew that she had always been a sickly rodent, and that her sickness had only gotten worse recently.
“Narrowly escaped a bite from Hookfang,” Scrap shook himself. “He’s leading the attack group this time.”
“What about the others?” Greg demanded. “Where are Otto and Boris?”
“Still out there, I suppose.”
Greg narrowed his eyes for a moment, before glancing at a white rat. “Crash, go out and find them. Call a retreat.”
“Yes sir,” Crash, who’s real name was Fredrick, nodded, bolting out past Scrap.
(Nice, eh? No... not really... Feel free to critique and comment.)