Just Starting Out

4; looking back pt.3

A/N; My lord this is a large chapter

I start of by attempting to search for apparel, something that'll aid in concealing my true identity. I'd rather not be caught or killed on my first day. So I spend a good while raiding my new closet. Shirts and sweaters went flying everywhere, I noticed how bland and simple they looked, and made a mental note in the back of my mind to head straight into the nearest thrift store as soon as I got the money to do so.

***

The sense of quitting slowly crept in until my eyes noticed a fairly large cardboard box in the corner top shelf. I was quite desperate at this point, so I stood on my toes, reaching as high as I possibly could. Just barely, I was able to grab it and plop the box down on the hardwood floor of my room. I knelt down and carefully opened it, revealing a considerable amount of clothing, clearly meant for stealth missions. Holy shit, this guy was prepared.

I lift up a black denim jacket, and take a couple seconds to look at it, the hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeve were covered with silver fur. Shrugging, I toss the clothing into the 'probably' pile. I continue searching through the box, and I feel myself nearing the bottom of it. My head turns to see the clothes sorted out into not-so-neat piles, shifting my eyesight back to the box I pickup the last piece of attire, which is a pair of combat boots, decked out with the familiar silver fur I've seen on mostly everything. I guess Mr. Day really has a thing for theming.

Slowly my eyes focus on the bottom of the box, and an odd sense of uneasiness settles in the pit of my stomach. I reach both my hands down to pick up a pair of handguns, and realize that maybe my claws won't be enough for these kinds of missions. Each gun seems to have holster paired up with them, and I pick those up too. I remember firearm training back in the lab, it was brief, and I only had around four to five sessions, but it was all I got. My hands seize the clothes I favored and set them somewhere different on the floor, soon after I begin to change. 

***

My hands grip a couple hair ties I discovered earlier in one of the cabinets. I gulp and gaze upon my appearance in the bathroom mirror, feeling just a bit out of place. I chose to keep the silver fur boots and jacket, along with a pair of black jeans and a long sleeved shirt, simple but it'll work just fine. The guns were kept in each holster, strapped to my mid thigh. My mind is a bit torn on what to do with my hair, it's a bit too short to put in a pony tail without strands falling in my face, so instead I just put the hood up and hope it won't bother me in the long run. I take a deep breath and turn the door, gripping the handle and walking out, back into my room. Not sure why, but I would feel weird if I just walked out the door like this, so instead I decide to leave through the window, since the building next door is close enough to jump too, for me at least. My boots squeak a little against the hardwood, ignoring it, I push open my window and take a peak outside. I shove myself though and grip onto the windowsill, this will most likely be my entrance back, so I leave a couple inches open. Huffing, I realize that it would be better to just climb up and figure out the rest once I reach the top. I unsheathe  my claws for a better grip, and make my way up, thankful that I'm residing at the top floor instead of anything lower.

A wave of relief rushed over once I arrived at the top, and examined the city view. As much as I hated to admit, this was a beautiful night, too beautiful for bloodshed. Immediately, I shake my head from these thoughts, I should be thankful I could even get this job, some projects were less lucky. My mind switches back the mission, and I think back to the information on my target. The file contained a picture of a tall, almost black scraper. There were few of those around here, and I recall the particular building being the closest to where I was at the moment. As I dig deeper, remembering what the file said, I paced and mumbled to myself. "Seventh floor, black tint..." 

My eyes dilated to the precise building, along with the many rooftops I'd have the pass through to get there. I was fine jumping off from immense heights, climbing those heights was what I dreaded. I made up my mind, choosing to quit whining about it and get this all over with, it should be a quick mission, in and out. I sprint until my feet reached the edge of the structure, I then leaped off and onto the next one, the breeze against my face and view of the rooftop quickly growing nearer gave me some sort of adrenaline rush. I landed on the concrete and gave a lopsided grin, actually enjoying this. My pattern of jumping and climbing buildings continued until I faced my designated region.

The roof I was on was a bit taller than the sixth floor of the skyscraper. What I chose to do next could either make or break how successful I would be with this mission. I would have to kick through the window, but I wasn't sure which one would lead though a room where no one was around to hear the glass shattering. I counted each window, and eventually got the sum of twelve. Sighing, my finger pointed to each glass pane, muttering "Eenie meenie miney mo." under my breath. By chance I chose the fifth one, and hoped for the best. I closed my fists and backed up before racing off the rooftop and diving into the window, covering my face. 

The noise wasn't as piercing as I originally thought, but it was still quite loud. I get flung onto the ground with a hushed, "Oof!" and lay on the ground for a bit, recalibrating my recent life choices. I feel something trickle down my nose, and wipe it with my sleeve, my eyes groggily open to see the silver fur stained with blood. Groaning, I lift the sleeve up higher and wipe my nose again, a bloody nose isn't my first priority right now. Steadily, I lift myself up and check for any other injuries, thankfully there was nothing too severe besides a couple cuts that ripped open my jeans. I immediately search around, studying my current surroundings. It looked like someone's office, the lights were shut off, and next to where I landed was a neat, clearly organized desk and leather office chair. I grip the handle of the door that was placed on the other side of the room, making sure I was silent through this whole ordeal. The door opened to show an array of cubicles, and a room on the other side that seemed to be lit. Vigilant, I speedily duck down and shuffle over to the side of the first cubicle I see. 

I wasn't sure what it exactly was, but this place gave me the creeps. I ignored the sneaking feeling that I was being watched, and crawled my way over to the bright room. My head twisted up to look at the entrance, the door was cracked, and as I listed, nothing was heard. Curiosity getting the best of me, I shift into a crouch and slowly moved the door to display more of the room, my eyebrows furrowed at the sight of no one there. I stand up, forgetting about stealth, and march on over to the wide-reaching table placed in the center. My vision secures on a sizable piece of blue paper, a pen and more items lay next to it, and my interest is now at it's peak. I reach over to grab the paper, but instantaneously I'm pulled away by the back of my hood.

I yelp and twist my body to throw a punch at whoever grabbed me, and my fist met the jaw of a man. He looked chubby, wearing a light grey suit and tie, and now clutching the side of his face. Like the supposed ignorant hit-man I am, I chose to underestimate him and waste a few seconds just standing there. My eyes widen as he dug into his jacket, and instantly I realized what he was pulling out. Now concluding that this wasn't someone I could easily mess with, I was smart to duck down, avoiding his first gunshot. Once again I unsheathe my claws and take a swing at him, he backed up and ran into the table. I soon understood that whoever this man appeared to be, was now fearful. He shot again once more but was too terror-stricken to aim correctly, the bullet ended up blasting into the whiteboard behind me. Panicking a little, I shove myself onto him, pinning him down on the floor. The man began to shout and yell, and deep down I was worried someone would hear. He fought quite forcefully, and I began to struggle to keep him down. 

The panic quickly grew as I soon became aware that I couldn't do anything. Without both hands keeping him down, he could pull out the gun once more, so I wasn't able to grab a hold of my own. My alarm continued to thrive, his cries for help were getting louder and louder by the second. Nervously, my tounge ran over the top of my teeth, and I paused as soon as I felt something. Canines, sharpened canines, another attribute I gained from the lab. A dark sense of dread grew in the pit of my stomach once I understood what was to come of next.

With a feeling of awfulness, I altered my vision, now looking at his neck. I almost gagged at the thought, but knew deep down, that it had to be done. 

So in one swift motion, I unhinge my jaw and lowered my head, sinking my teeth into the flesh of his neck.