▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一 GET IT STARTED ╾━╤デ╦︻
She slipped in her designated clothing, appropriate for the needed mission. Unfortunately, it comes to have more coverage than most of the clothing she and her squadron had ever worn. She shouldn't be surprised otherwise, since the targets came to be minor, younger presumably that herself. An excess of skin isn't that essential to lure them, their appearance is adequate enough at a probability.
The attire worn compliments her white fur appealingly, composing of which is themed to somehow look like an assassin attire correlating to winter. Tufts of fur decorated the edge of her hood and gloves, and despite wearing shorts and leg wrappings to absorb agility and proper blood circulation through the muscles, she felt exposed in her entire career. Honestly, she could have sworn wearing components of clothing that only veils her breast and the outmost private area that lies between her thigh, and for now wearing clothing that covers more, embarrassment somehow manages to unsheathe and say 'hello' to her.
Neglecting the blush that crept her cheeks, she brushed off her mane and tied it in her signature high pony tail, curtains of thick bangs conceal her left eye, giving it a more intimidated appeal. She brushed her fur neatly and tucked in her breast, admittedly she has difficulty concealing her massive bosom in zipping up her top. She wants to call it more as of a curse than a blessing, why would women ever be envious of having these?
She undoes her top and grabbed a cloth wrapping, binding her breast a little lighter before slipping back into her top.
After preparing her appearance, she took the handouts that were placed atop of the table and browsed on the targets given info.
The corner of her eye twitched at the sight of inadequate fills of data, and thought: So basically, we're the ones who should fill in the blanks.
This will be more difficult than she thought.
"How preposterous," the gray mongrel remarked; her eyes darted over numerous screens placed on the wall, surfaced with numerous details where two eyes alone can't possibly read within seconds, "there aren't adequate data encoded on any provisions. It's not easy to hack through their hands-on set of technology,"
"Barb, are you going to be thorough or not? You're rubbing dictionaries into your nose too hard, please don't do drugs, baby barb," the fox sassed, speaking all so smoothly, though the piercing tone in her voice can't be easily ignored of her impatience. She's leaning over the vacant wall afar as to where the grey mongrel fiddles over her varied equipments.
Other than being insulted, she just flashed a narrow gaze, more of like a lazy glare up towards the fox who suddenly finds the ceiling interesting. The mongrel rolled her eyes otherwise, nothing has surprisingly changed from her sister even as it is, years passed and puberty has made an unwelcoming hello.
"We've been together since we're pups and I'm quite impressed how you never gotten used to my constant mumbling that is made a habit of mine to express my thoughts," there's a playful venom in her soft and mellow voice, "such profound bullhead you got there, quite a quality I must say,"
Stomps rampaged as it approaches her and all the while still, even if the fox grasped her collar too forcefully, she remained holding a lazy, uninterested expression plastered on her dog-ish face.
"Oh ho ho, playing bitchy here, are we? Well two can play at that game-" with a fist gripped and held in an angle, there are no hesitation visible to her actions. If she's mad, she'll be hell mad. The mongrel, remarkably endured the action, and only lifted her paw to adjust her glasses back up to the bridge of her muzzle.
She's still calm at this state? Unbelievable!
If the mongrel ever assumed the fox to throw pity, then she's dead wrong, she'll prove that it'll be worth to throw a jab over a bitchy mutt.
"Spineless, pale, utterly pathetic to the touch," a cold, monotonous tone of a female's voice was heard from aback of both the mongrel and the fox. The familiar pitch, it could cause blizzard within an instant, it's no doubt to know that she's behind them over a ruckus caused by the foolish fox, who instantly had her eyes widen at the familiarity of her accent.
Turning, and disregarding the mongrel smirking victoriously, she gasped at the sight of the wolf she both fear and aggravate, "Amalthea!"
The wolf stands by the entrance door of the transportation aircraft, likely, a highly advanced black CH-47 Chinook-inspired helicopter. Her hand lies on the door frame, and her signature cold gaze focuses on both the fox and the mongrel.
She walked past the fox, she's about to utter mindless words, continuous stammer and have lies splattered, thankfully, she made it on her cue when she merely opened her jaws, "Save your deplorable of an excuse, shifty fox," she commands, walking past the vulpine.
Instinctively, she shut her jaws. And in the corner of her eye, she spotted the mongrel mending her collar neatly, a sly smile visible in her lips, oh how the fox wished she could smack it off her face with one swipe of her clawed hand. So this is her flow, she knew the wolf is nearby and took this moment to agitate a prideful and dignified fox full of nothing than muscles and attitude. All bark and no bite.
"Status report, Ianthina,"
The mongrel shifted into a comfortable seat, re-adjusting her headset settled on her ears and microphone nicely aligned to the side of her mouth, "The location of our targets lies over the sewers of Manhattan City, there is no specific coordination, although cameras and witnesses estimated that they're presumably anywhere below since they re-appear over every manhole," she activated a device, flashing detailed information in holographic displays of screens varied with countless of contents filled. Her piercing violet orbs scanned each word easily, despite the automatic scroll on every borders.
"We'll land on a nearby forest with a clean clearing," she began hauling the lever, "Dogfighter K-29 is transmitting, this is Ianthina of the Squadron Mongrel speaking, ready for take off," she mumbled over the microphone, giving cues to the pilots as to their designated role.
The wolf perked up her ears to her at the point of realizing, "And the US military?"
"We can easily avoid them locating us, of all the matter. Nothing can get through our systems nor sense our transportation. I've activated a barrier whereas we couldn't be visibly seen to the naked eye or radio sensory,"
She nodded in approval.
The vixen, out of the blue, had her eyes widen and both of her ears became aroused, "I hate to burst bubbles, but where on the freaking earth is Polly?"
Reactions came almost too hastily, the wolf nearly lost her balance, the mongrel almost shoved keyboards when she kept fiddling her fingers on the surface, and the vulpine, stared in shock, "Seriously?"
She jogged on the nearly closed door, forcefully pushing it before it completely closed. The pilots caught the fox's violent act, panicking to re-open the door, and as expected, she found the young pup chasing after the aircraft on fours.
"Have you been chasing your tail, Polly?!" she exclaimed rather ridiculed by the young member's idiocy.
"No!" she squeaked back, running after its tires, making exhaustion visible, "Though I may or may not have drank on the toilet bo-"
"I don't want to hear it!"
▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一 PREDATORY TEARS ╾━╤デ╦︻
"You are unbelievable, Polly," the vixen constantly scolded, shaking her head with her hands crossed.
Times like this was most certainly predictable below the youngest member of the pack. For a representative who held the title being the youngest and agile amongst thousands of recruits, she may act a little too tardy within times, and that occurs whenever she indulged too much energy. Nonetheless, over serious times and moments where a true assassin's trait is reviewed and used for the best essential, she comes to reveal her value in useless occasions. The leader, admittedly is disappointed, and the pup does discover how the wolf, in defiance of facing her back to the group, would steadily throw quick glances at her in the corner of her eye.
"I'm sorry," she creaked, whimpering beneath the dominance of the wolf who stood afar from her, but could sense her intimidating presence, "it wasn't my fault you allowed me to party last night,"
The mongrel groaned, her hands fidgeting on the keyboard, and gliding on the holographic screen displays, before twirling to meet the young one's heterchromic eyes, "We allowed you because we're all given freedom to whatever we like when we accomplish missions,"
"Partying hard almost sounds like a joke to us, lil' girl," the vixen shrugged, her lips nearly puckered, "we never thought you were serious,"
The wolf, turned and this caught the group's attention, "Hold any distractions of your little fun and it won't be too late to take a turn back," her cold, piercing voice stabs their soul, "Never show these pathetic hobbies under my presence," she started pacing towards them, meeting eye-contact with each of them, and their ears perked down, "We're never built to be passionate nor possess anything to our likeness,"
They lower their noses, appalled by her monotonous voice when she continued, "Exhibit them once more, and I'll never hesitate throwing you all out of the squadron,"
Her eyes narrowed, "I hate using items that are useless,"
It struck them.
Their feelings are mixed, it's although, unidentified. Was it anger? Guilt? It's a probability to withheld both. She disregarded their liability and faced pilots, "Fall accord to our coordination, distracts aren't greatly needed within my crew,"
This happened numerous times, all of within missions, and are scolded more than once, thought it never injects their nogged mind.
For now, they need to keep their note. Never let emotions be dominant. It's a role of an assassin to forget remorse.
PREY's Data Sheet
Victim: "Terrapin Vigilantes"
Description: A number of four anthropomorphic turtles, brothers as they call among themselves, reside beneath Manhattan by the sewers, using ninjutsu as their form of combat skills in occupying their roles as vigilantes, fighting for the city's safety in no need of name, face, and credits but for tranquility alone.
Purpose for Obliteration: Re-enact the main purpose of the FANG corporation, victims have been playing a dangerous role that wasn't professionally made for themselves and without the permission of the government agency
Assigned for the Task: Mongrel Squadron
Consideration: If mission fails, the squadron will be permanently wiped out.
The leader's main focus should lie on executing these terrapins after gathering rightful information. No remorse, no distractions.
▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一 PREDATORY TEARS ╾━╤デ╦︻
"Don't you think the mission is too absurd under the squadron's case? They may be compatible and invulnerable but still, the conditions you gave them made it more crucial. They will obviously die trying until they'll succeed," Angrona pleaded out aloud, begging for reaching the Headmistress' mercy.
Angrona is the Major General of the corporation, she displayed full control over her boundless strength, and her gentleness veils her violent nature in battle. Wise, discipline, and robust, she held the full package. Rarely students who came under her authority barely survived her training nor even came to be accepted to be her apprentices. The wolf of the squadron earlier, amuses her to the full potential. Nevertheless, she did caught exceedingly the high council's or high ranks' attention. Her display of strength, intelligence, stamina, and all of the matter, is beyond average.
Holding concern for the member is unthinkable, especially for the trainor herself.
The headmistress responded with a silent turn, her hazel orbs practically glows in the shadow, "They take the risk, we shouldn't question that,"
Angrona gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to growl before the headmistress, despite having her as her closest friends, it's a priority to remain respectful under her command at all cost, "Amalthea is my student,"
"And what holds any relation, do pray tell,"
"She's-" Angrona thickly swallowed a heavy lump at her throat, bravery conquered the weakly cries even at the tiniest crack of her voice, "-she's the daughter I never had,"
The headmistress remained silent, deep in thought that it's falling upon their status quo to prevail remorse at all given times, and the person she hold respect among the high council, is breaking it.
It's what she feared.
Display of rage wouldn't help clarify the situation, however. With her soothing voice, she monotonously interpret, "Mistakes caused is a privilege for them to learn and what not to repeat," her eyes soften to meet Angrona's a nearly teary gaze, "they willingly take the risk for a reason, old friend. It's not only you who is suffering,"