Hit Girl |borusara 18+|

Chapter 1

"You're all on a retrieval mission. We got word of a hard drive, containing a blueprint. Your objective for this mission is to receive this classified package from the hands of Kara, before.." Tsunade's sentence trailed off as she cleared her throat, "..before Orochimaru and his operatives acquire it."

She sighed, "Lord knows what they'll have planned with that package."

"I'm sure they're thinking the same of us, Lady Tsunade," Chocho mused in her chair, giggling. Sarada looked over to her with a stern look, being met with a silly face, to which Sarada and Sumire ended up wheezing at.

Tsunade's smirk grew at the sight of her top team laughing, "Nonetheless, here are your assignments," She opened a file that was on her desk, crossing her legs, "The gala is to take place in a plaza, in between two hotels. We've calculated at least 4 snipers, 2 from the Kara, 2 from New ROOT. Agent Rose, you take the ball at the top floor, you are to continue making your way up until you reach room 114B, where there will be an RPA-308 waiting for you," ChoCho pouted at this, she didn't like that gun, "you are to eliminate all snipers. After, you are to head back down, and help Sarada."

Tsunade shifted her eyes to Sumire, "Agent River, you are to hack into the mainframe and get past the viruses they implemented on the direct system. These viruses will block all elevators, door-key locks, and any mechanical systems from working, trapping everyone in the two hotels. There have been reports of a suspected bomb as well. This bomb was planted by Kara as a fail safe plan. It will emit a wave of a certain frequency which will elate anything that radiates gamma ray energy. The hard drive has a sensitivity to gamma radiation and will self-destruct with too much exposure. I want you to find that bomb and disable it. '

Lastly, she took a look at Sarada. Traces of Sakura in the determination of her face, the compassion of Sasuke in her eyes.

She smiled, 'Agent Viper,' she cleared her throat, 'you are to locate the package and secure it. Do it as quietly as possible. If not, that's okay, you have your team to back you up.' Chocho and Sarada exchanged looks, eyes glimmering with mischievous to which Sumire face-palmed, 'You are to retrieve the purple briefcase that an agent with green boots has custody of, there will be at least 80 enemy agents until you are all in a safe position, do you think you can handle it?' Tsunade taunted, knowing her top team can do more than 'handle it'.

Sarada scoffed, before letting a smirk grow on her face, "Of course, Lady Tsuande."

....

It was 6:30 P.M. on a Sunday night. They all stepped out of their all black Maserati, all three of them dressed elegantly in black. Walking into the middle of the plaza, scoping out their environment. They all knew what they had to do, and damn they were going to look good doing it.

ChoCho had her curly locks in an ethereal updo, some curls drifting down to frame her face while the rest was piled on top of her head. Strapless and tight at the waist, ChoCho's dress gave her an accentuated hourglass shape, with her gun holster peeping through her leg slit. A thick diamond choker wrapped around her neck, covering numerous scars. She wore nude lipstick, with matching nude heels painted red at the bottom with a carved rose to compliment her all black dress, sequins decorating the fabric. A diamond watch wrapping around the inked rose on her skin. Her smokey eyes scanning the event for any suspicious looking people or the subjects.

Sumire flattened her dress. Her deep v-neck accentuated her lavender hair, making it shine under the chandelier lights of the plaza. The twinkle of her delicate silver jewelry reflected off of the lights, contrasting her skin. She slid her hands over her arms, in a subconscious reflex to shelter herself. Her delicate fingers, plated with rings, ran across her wave tattoo. Her lilac suede heels clicked with every step she took. She twisted her curled hair around her finger, looking around for any possible hostiles. Her gun holster, just slightly peeking from the lace material of her dress.