Whispers in the night

Shadows

Chapter 1: Shadows.

Get in. Get busy. Get out.

The first point of business is infiltration. Not as simple as it sounds. 

A silver furred rabbit jumped over the tall iron wrought fence, almost clipping the metal, landing softly on one hand. Her head darted from side to side, alert for any signs of danger. Purple eyes glinting in the moonlight, she spied and hid in some bushes, and she stayed until she was sure it was safe, she was in a huge garden, and the garden was in the grounds of a mansion. A guarded one, she'd have to be careful. Someone must of noticed some movement, because up from the top of the roof, a searchlight came and moved over her position, the light made her blood red hair almost illuminate. She shied away from the brightness of it, only to look back when it had passed her vision. Intinctively, her hand reached around to grasp the hilt of a rather over-sized sword, the blade, six feet long, ten inches across, and the hilt, an extra foot. It was rectangular save the sloped edge that tapered it to a point. It may of looked heavy, but it was as light as a feather.

The sword primarily rested on her being thanks to an overpowered circular magnet built in to the back of her armour. Her "armour" was a sleek bodysuit. But it was only lightly padded, she needed to be able to run fast in case of detection. The suit itself was made of black leather.

Tough enough to withstand a bullet or two, but flexible enough to bend in useful ways.

Darting across a gap inbetween shadows and pathways, she side-rolled into a few more bushes and went prone, crawling forwards slowly to a stop. Her hand reached down to her hip, past a silenced black Uzi, and to some night-vision binoculars, bringing up to her eyes after taking them in her grasp. Spying to a window on the upper floor of the mansion, her gaze came to rest upon the man whom she was seeking.

"There you are." She drew out in delight upon seeing the target. A human male, in his mid sixties, dark skin, and a load of attitude to boot. Gene Vorang. One of the most ruthless motherfuckers of his generation. A prominent figurehead in the slave trading busniness out in the Middle-East, a gun runner for a lot of gangs down in L.A, his list of bullshit went a metre long.  She kind of wanted to take him down anyway, he had a dislike for anthro's, and they were numerous in his slave trades. Just as well he was wanted by her... employers, for crimes against important and rich people he'd fucked over who'd pay handsomely to have him put down. If all went well, this boded a handsome profit to herself especially.

Gently pressing up from the ground, she moved into a low crouch, a leg outstretched behind her, and she glanced around for any signs of hostile combatants. Noting several human guards all the way to her left outside the main entrance of the mansion, all sporting MP5k's, except for one, who had a SPAS 12. They were a multitude of races, wore formal tuxedos, even shades to boot. Very stereotypical, she thought. They weren't paying attention to this way were she was, and a few walked around the corner of the building, so she decided to make her move, sprinting over to an archway, hiding inside it and tucking herself in as best she could, taking a side-glance from her position. Nobody was in sight just now, but she would place a safe bet a patrol would be coming around soon, and this arch was the labeled as the one she needed to take in, according to a small map she had on her. Taking a last glance around, she quietly opened the door and slipped inside.

With a quick breath, she closed the door shut and jumped into the shadows, keeping to the walls as she now found herself in an unusually large rectangular room. She wasted to time in drawing the silenced Uzi from her hip and shooting out the lights in due haste. The fluorescent lighting shattered almost as quick as she'd pulled the tigger, leaving powered glass to clink to the floor in a quiet haze. Nobody had heard a thing.