Lethal Prey (liuxess)

"Let me get this straight. You want me to track down and take care of this guy?" The manbeast inhaled deeply through his nose, and his breath escaped his body through his fangs with an audible sigh as he examined the picture he held in his clawed hands. He was looking at a teenager, a child no older than 16 by his estimate. "He's just a kid."

"Oh, he is much more than a child, Mister uhm, Mongrel, was it?" The man sitting across the table from him fumbled with his words and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He was short, thin, nearly bald, and wearing a dark grey suit that cost more than some cars. The way his glasses sat above his high cheekbones gave him the appearance of a rather thin owl. A predatory bird that still looked a little nervous to be sitting across from the man known as the Mongrel, whom he stood in stark contrast to. Mongrel was a mountain of a man in comparison. His muscle mass was apparent as it pushed the shoddy plain white undershirt he wore to its limit. The Mongrel reached one of his claws to his face and pushed the long mane of hair on his head back. The man caught a better look now at his somewhat disturbing visage. He couldn't deny how uncomfortable those black eyes made him. Mongrel nodded in answer to the man's question about his name. The nervous gentleman swallowed hard.

"As you'll see here." He said as he removed another photograph from the manila folder and slid it across the table, "The boy is a demon."

The photograph was a horror show not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach. Blood everywhere, dismembered body on top of dismembered body. Mongrel could count maybe ten in all, but it was hard to tell with the way they'd been sliced up.

"I- huh." He hesitated. "He did all of this, huh? I don't know if I should be disgusted or impressed." He sounded practically amused which disturbed the owl like man even more.

"Those men were important to my employer's operations overseas. They were loyal. Most had families." The man dabbed some of the sweat off of his forehead with a handkerchief.

"I see. But he's still just a kid. Why come to me when you could just put out an amber alert? Or maybe let the cops handle it?" He leaned back in his chair. His black eyes concentrated on the owl man as if he were mentally dissecting him.

"I'm afraid getting the law involved here would cause more trouble than the bodies. And though we lost those men, this could be a good opportunity for us. It's not everyday we get the chance to make an ally out of an actual Project Perfection subject-"

"What do you know about the Project?" Mongrel interrupted.

The owl man sensed the cards at the table tilting into his favor some. It always felt good to know things other people didn't. Especially when it was something they wanted to know. Some of the nervousness he felt earlier melted away, and confidence slid into it's place. "We know a lot of things. You haven't heard from them in awhile have you?"

The manbeast across from him shook his head, "And I don't care to."

"I didn't think so. But that's a shame, because my boss tells me they weren't done with you yet." a satisfied smirk crawled its way across his face.

"Is that so?"

"Oh, if you think you're a badass now, just wait. If you take care of this for us, we'll finish what they started on you. You'll be a bigger, badder man than you've ever been. So what do you say?"

He removed the final document from his folder, and handed it over. The beast across from him pawed through it. It was a test log from his time spent with the Project, and it was all about him. There still a chance the little man was lying, but this certainly did a lot for his credibility.

=====================================================

The fog rolled into the streets of Istanbul as the Mongrel stalked his prey. This was even easier than he thought. Whoever his new employer was, they'd done practically all the work for him, and he was thankful for that. Truth be told, he wouldn't have known where to start back home in the states, let alone in another country.  The employer provided him a list of their other facilities in the area in order of importance. If he were after them, it would be one of those that he would hit. They were also kind enough to provide him with a shred of what they believed to be the kid's clothing. It was enough for his bestial nose to pick up a decent scent.

Oddly enough the trail had taken him further into the city, and nowhere near any of the facilities on the list. The fact that this could be a trap lingered in the back of his mind as he followed, but it grew stronger the further he did until he found himself in the middle of some kind of commercial district. People shuffled in and out of shops and the smell of various restaurants and bars filled the air. All of this did a wonderful job of covering up the trail he followed to get here. If that was the kid's intention, the kid was much much smarter than he'd anticipated.  

Mongrel cursed under his breath. Even with his long coat, and hood pulled up, he stood head and shoulders above most of the crowd. He scanned each person as he pushed his way though the busy street. His target had to be around there somewhere.

(968)

A quick turn, perfectly timed moment with his face covered by a lady with umbrella walking in the same direction, while his hand was still in the air, phasing through the table from underneath, grabbing the so desired pie he's been watching for a couple of minutes and phasing back down through the table, then quickly moving through the crowd in the opposite direction from the market stand.

The sun was low on the horizon, hardly seeable from the city, but still shining bright enough to not give need of turning on lamps. The city of Istanbul was huge, with various different districts, varying in size, age and culture - but
"Most importantly - food" Bird thought, as he happily turned away from the stand he just stolen from, ready to dig his teeth into this creamy strawberry looking pie, as out of nowhere, somebody grabbed him by his torn sleeve and pulled him backwards.

Tripping over someone's foot, Bird found himself on his butt, staring at the two sellers, who the stand belonged to, shouting at him for some reason. "It's okay I will pay you back, I will pay you" Any hopes of communicating were thrown out as the men just kept ranting angrily, so Bird had to do it. He took out a small bag of coins from  behind his belt and threw it on the table, chumming into the pie he managed to keep safe during this incident, and with his other hand signaling the two now shut up marketmen to take a look inside.

They opened the bag slowly, allowing the coins to scatter around the table. These were various pennies from different countries, including rupee quarters, various ringitts, even dollar cents - some of which were special occasional releases, meaning they could have been worth a lot more than Bird or, for that matter, these Turkish marketmen knew, as one of them angrily threw everything to the ground, shouting at Bird again for a reason he couldn't understand, as the other guy stood there in shock looking at all the coins scattered around, maybe trying to identify them or find something that would be held of actual value.

"I'm pretty sure I saw a woman paying you with these metal thingies earlier, what, mine aren't good enough?" Bird got irritated with the man in front screaming right at his face. The pie-seller got so angry he got physical, trying to kick the strawberry pie out of the boy's hands, but he was easily able to dodge it, holding the pie high above his head.

The pedestrians in this market alleyway were starting to stop just to watch this play out, and this was attention Bird wasn't seeking. He already got pretty irritated by this, so he just decided to turn away and leave, but once again, the man grabbed his sleeve, this time tearing it even more. The boy stopped and started to look up, surprised and searching for something. Suddenly he got pretty angry. Some crows had stolen his pie while he was holding it up above his head and he didn't notice, so now they were feasting on it on top of a roof. Being ignored, the pie seller got really angry, and with all his might, shoving Bird to the ground.

But to his surprise, the boy hardly flinched, as the man himself fell backwards from the push. Some people started giggling, and that made Bird realise how many people had actually gathered, so he used this moment to move in back to the crowd. Though the pie seller lied on his ass for a short while more, Bird was unsure that he wasn't being fallowed, so he was moving through the crowd quickly, visualising his path forward, using the sound of footsteps to outmaneuver most people without looking too much to the sides, using his intangibility to phase through arms at feet, which made his movement through the crowd incomparably quicker.

Walking out into the street of this commercial district, he could feel the warmth of the day even with all this fog starting to rise up. He tore off his sleeves completely, leaving him in a black sleeveless shirt and black denim, which was somehow way easier to move in than it looked like. Walking through the accumulating crowd, Bird was looking through the windows into various shops and restaurants, looking for anything that would catch his attention.

The elevator descended for an eternity. Kashmir standing in the center of the square chamber, hands placed behind her back. She watched floors countdown from "1". B1, B2, B3, B4, B5, B6, B7, B8, until B13 when the doors hissed open like an airlock. Stepping out of overhead, fluorescent lighting and into darkness, Kashmir didn't hesitate a step.

Like the lines written by Rufus Wainwright, she knew this room and she walked this floor. One foot before the other an act of of trust and faith, after roughly thirty steps, she stopped. Then, she smoothed her flowing garments, and knelt down on one knee. Head bowed, she was aware of, but not directly seeing a white light flickering to life in front of her. A stooped male figure silhouetted, brightness making him a charcoal outline formed.

"GH-O0195, it is good to see you here once again."

Kashmir remained unmoved.

"Ask and you shall receive; why have you called me away from the States?*" she asked.

A silent pause followed, then...

"Golden Horde has urgent need of you; one last need of your skills, and we will be willing to leave you to your retirement indefinitely. We have called on you so much, we regret calling on you again." the silhouette replied.

"We?" Kashmir inquired back.

Two more lights sprung to life, immediately to the right and left of the central white light, their colors green, and red. Silhouettes themselves, Green was clearly a trim, virile male in a well tailored suite, while red was a voluptuous female form in business attire. Green emanated a hiss.

"Yes 'We' Kashmir; your abandonment of Golden Horde is still felt. Did you really think walking away to the US and UN would be seamless? Your absence is felt...deeply."

Red spoke up after Green's outburst.

"Do not take him too seriously, Operative 195; he loathes anyone leaving the Horde...that said, your leaving has left us in a lurch, and the current situation is one that requires your, how should I put it? Spark? Yes, spark, or spontaneity."

That lingered for a few breaths, until Kashmir summoned words.

"Very well, but this is the last time; I will not take a mission where a kill is necessary again...I am weary of the killing..."

White added on right after.

"But you cannot break the mold, child; you were trained to take life, preserving it is not in your nature."

Kashmir was quick to reply.

"I am more than my route training. This is the last kill."

Yellow and blue etched silhouettes followed. Blue, a spare male, speaking first.

"This is not a contract, or a kill 195. This is closure."

Yellow, an aged female, contributed...

"Yes, for you. 196's killer may have been ascertained."

Eyes narrowing, Kashmir's hands clinched.

"I am listening...intently."

Laughter filled the black chamber. Echoing several times, and indicating the vastness of the space occupied, Kashmir noticeably trembled. Two more silhouettes appeared, Pink and purple. Purple a rotund male, and pink a slim, what one might describe as "vulpine" figure.

Purple spoke first in a staccato blast.

"Listen well, then, 195; 196's killer may be in Istanbul Turkey. You are to be airdropped there within 12 hours via hyper-sonic conveyance. You will track down the following individual, and discover whether he was responsible for the death of Operative GH-O0196...Pink."

The woman silhouetted by pink took over, speaking as an image spot lit the once shadowy floor before Kashmir. The image was of a young man, late teens, perhaps early twenties.

"He is known as 'Bird'. He possesses powers that can only be described as supernatural, and therefore beyond Golden Horde's depth for developmental purposes; what we need to ascertain was whether he killed Operative 196 in Delhi last year, date 11/15/2017. Your mission is to discover Bird's motives and past actions. If he is responsible for 196's death in the Naan Point Encounter, then your objective is to terminate him with extreme prejudice and bring back both the Katana, and body. Understood?"

Kashmir nodded presently.

"Roger that...but what if he is innocent?"

White spoke up.

"Then take a bit of wisdom from Mungo Jerry."

Laughing together, the light figures all blacked out, leaving Kashmir alone in the dark. She pondered White's last words, as she raised her head.

"In the case of innocence, I do what I feel?" she said to silence, getting no reply in turn.


Kashmir fit right into the bazaar setting. In clothing that could be seen as both traditionally Persian, Pashtun, or Kazakh, she fit into the Islamic Orthodox image rather well as she glided her way around countless buyers and barterers. The wandering glances of men followed her. Both familiar and exotic thanks to Russian and Mongolian mixture that she descended from, the Seljuk Turk ancestry only helped drive home her Asian/Middle Eastern appeal.

Kashmir was a beauty of sorts.

And Kashmir, in this setting, had a ticket to ride. This helped her as she asked questions, and followed up on reports match 'Bird'. She was narrowing in on him. A report of a 'Pie Thief' matching his description caused her to pick up the pace to a jog.

He had to be nearby. He had to be.

Mongrel continued to stalk the streets of Istanbul looking for his target. His dark eyes took in each and every face he passed, and he stopped occasionally to sniff at the air. Even with the heavy foot traffic and flood of smells, sights, and sounds that came with it, he knew the Bird was there. He could feel it.

As it would turn out, his feelings were not wrong. Further up the street, past the seamless blend of modern shops, bustling cafes, and street vendors calling for his attention as much as any other passersby, he came upon the aftermath of a commotion. A group of onlookers crowded around a pie shop. A man, apparently the owner, was being helped up off the ground. From the few bits of conversation he could understand he gathered that a young man was caught stealing a pie, and embarrassed the owner of the shop who tried to stop him. A deep inhale confirmed that he was on the right trail; the boy was certainly there very recently. Most likely he and the pie thief were one in the same. Truly, Mongrel's heart bled for Istanbul. A mass murder and pie thief was running loose on their streets. Not to worry, he mentally reassured the people of Turkey, he would bring the fiend to justice with one flick of his claws.

"Out of my way." He barked pushing through the onlookers in a hurry.

He followed the scent trail straight down the street. Beneath his boot he kicked up something. Upon inspection it seemed to be the sleeve of a shirt? Odd, but come to think of it, he was feeling a bit warmer in his coat himself. It was a similar material to the bit of cloth he'd been using to track the Bird with. Smelled the same too. He had to be close now, and he was. Ten feet ahead of him was the Bird, strolling carefree down the block and window shopping.

Mongrel stepped through the now dissipating fog behind the boy. He caught a glimpse of his own reflection behind the boy's in the window. It was something that would be sure to catch his eye. With one swift motion he reached up for the back of the boys, neck. His grip was tight and firm, his claws pressed toward the throat with just enough pressure to be uncomfortable, but do no harm.

"Reach for that sword of yours or try to scream, and you'll bleed out before help gets here." His voice a low growl, quiet enough to keep their conversation private, but loud and commanding enough to intimidate. There were too many people around to do it right then and there without complications, but he wouldn't hesitate if it came to that. "Let's take a walk, kid."

(469)

Bird yawned and rubbed his left eye acting all sleepy. something is very wrong he thought to himself, with his right eye looking around, trying to understand what was going on that made him uncomfortable.

Then it hit him. For some reason, everyone's eyes would first go to Bird when passing by, but then they would suddenly rise up behind him. Were they trying to be polite and not stare at him? No, the change in line of sight was too sudden. It had to be something behind him. While lowering his left arm he gently bumped his sword to stay tightly in the belt holster, trying to listen to any sound that would be made by the thing behind him, but some street artist started playing a guitar across the street, catching all of Bird's attention - he understood that was a mistake as large strong fingers wrapped up around his neck from behind. The man growled intimidatingly, probably not wanting to draw attention.

Reaching for the sword or screaming? Well, the later just seemed plain stupid. These bounty hunters never know how to deal with crowded areas... It wouldn't be too hard to actually snipe me from afar if you were just to follow me around enough Bird thought, nodding silently to what the man said. Wasn't the first, and probably not the last situation like this for Bird. He has been held at gunpoint without a sword in his hands far too many times to not have prepared for this. And indeed he had, an idea, that came to realization a long time ago.

His worn out belt with the holster and the jeans shared a hole, going from the skin to the inside of the holster. By keeping his sword adjusted right - and it was hanging on pretty tight, Bird's skin always had contact with the metal of the blade.

But this guy knows about the sword... or does he just see it as a weapon? either way, the grip seemed too tight to try to break free or jerk the guys arm off with strength alone. So Bird just sighed as if giving up and sadly responded with:
"Lead the way"

Kashmir stopped short at a stand, and side glanced at her target while picking through several fine bolts of linen. Observing the massive man step into her line of sight, standing out almost as much as 'Bird', Kashmir held her breath. Watching the big guy intently now, she saw him approach Bird and reach up. A threat assessment was in order. The newcomer's posture betrayed hostility, but also an attempt at remaining subtle. She did not see him draw a weapon, so she concluded he himself was one.

He was either super natural or meta-humanly empowered.

Shuffling through the linens, she picked a bolt and paid the man the desired amount in Liras, and thanked him is broken Turkish. She watched the two move, and she moved as well. Slowly dissolving into the crowd, she followed it like a steady stream and kept a bead on Bird, as well as the man leading him. Her threat assessment of Bird limited to the knowledge given, and the scrutiny at present, Kashmir evaluated his demeanor as fairly steady, and patient given the circumstances. He didn't appear afraid as he walked, his expression not one of panic or even anxiety.

Kashmir broke free of the crowd and made for an alley.

Once there, she took to the air. Rising 15', she sidled walls as she flew, and banked corners tightly. She would not engage, at least not yet. When she reached another corner, instead of turning, she peered about, catching sight of her quarries as they went. It was all a waiting game now.

The cards figuratively dealt between the three individuals, it was now onto a phase of bluffs and bets. Kashmir exhaled. She was not a gambling woman. But she could bide time with the best of them