Shadowwalker - Under Review For Now

6. Bar fight

The assassin suddenly ducked under, vanishing from Amber's sight.

Letting out a short shriek in shock, she then stood on a chair, and climbed onto the table as to attain a better view. She frowned as she scanned her surroundings.

By now most people had started either leaving, or fighting. Amber snorted when she noticed Loveday behind the bar, who was shouting obscenities whilst waving a frying pan around with some very threatening motions indeed, as to keep people away from the bar. Shaking her head at a memory of a few years ago, of a young Loveday surrounded by broken glass and spilled liquors, she grinned.

Finally, she spotted the assassin. He had been hiding under a table, and was flitting in and out of sight, at times even crawling between people's legs, slowly but surely getting closer and closer to the exit. In the meantime, his hands were flitting in and out of people's pockets, taking a coin here, a bracelet there, thieving his way through, before finally slipping out the back entrance.

For a moment, Amber was stunned. 

Assassins didn't normally do this. Admittedly, they murdered people in cold blood- but that's just their job, it's what they trained to do. The average assassin is high-class, with high rates to match the deadly risk factor. Thus, they generally had no need for petty thievery- and pulled their noses up for it.
Because of their high clientele, their schools not only gave various lessons in how to off someone- but also in etiquettes, languages, and much, much more. Anything to blend in- but also to impress their employers. After all, you'll see a satisfied customer again. Even if it strongly differs om which end of the deal they'll meet again.

Thoughts racing,  Amber began to recklessly leap from table to table with catlike grace, only slightly hindered by her knee. She kicked over drinks, narrowly avoided stepping in people's food, and was almost dragged into the fighting herself when someone toppled over a table she just barely managed to jump off of in time. 

When she eventually reached the back entrance, she was panting lightly, so she took a short moment to catch her breath. Glancing about to make sure nobody was looking, she removed her ridiculous uniform to reveal her own, plainer clothes hidden underneath. The whole affair took half a minute, as she ripped the cheap fastenings open to speed the process up.
She unceremoniously dumped the clothing behind a potted plant with as much dignity as she could muster, and took three seconds to stretch.

Amber wore a nondescript outfit of what looked like murky brown cloth, tightly wound down her arms, a tight shirt with an expensive bodice underneath that kept shape yet allowed her to breathe, and leggings with too many pockets.
Besides all of that, she clipped on her belt, on which hung a variety of gadgets, and to top it off she grabbed a long, dark, mottled cloak from the hanger which would mostly conceal her shape.

Once outside, a cold rush of fresh air sent shivers down her spine. She scanned her surroundings. Closing her eyes, Amber concentrated, trying to seek her prey out with her mind.

Abruptly, her head snapped up, eyes alert, senses tingling. She balanced on the balls of her feet, arms slightly stretched out by her sides, as though she was a bird about to take flight.

She took a deep breath, and turned to face the darkened alleyway.

"By the moons, it's always the creepy alleyways, isn't it," she whispered to herself.

And then she shot after the mysterious man like an arrow from a bow, silent as the shadows which instantly engulfed her.