Predator and Prey

Just something I typed up while bored. It isn't very fleshed out but I hope it is still enjoyable ;)


Noire was crouched down on the eve of the roof of a tall building. The cold, night wind blew around him with surprising force; gusting up to fifty miles per hour at times. His sharp claws were dug into the concrete of the rooftop in an effort to anchor himself as his black trench coat flapped around him wildly, looking very much like his wings in the dim, shifting light. Across the dark, dank alley from him was another building; run down and falling into ruin in some parts.
The yellow glow of a light leaked out of one of the windows about two stories down from Noire’s eye level. Inside the room he counted five armed men and his target: Alexi Cherchesov. Alexi was a Russian arms dealer with a habit of betraying his customers. He had the meanest, most highly trained bodyguards that his country could produce as well as the blessing of the Russian Mafia. Those two factors ensured that no matter how bad his business ethics got, he didn’t have to fear retribution. Only a suicidal assassin would dare take a contract against him. He was a fat, rather unpleasant gentleman that made Noire’s fur crawl just looking at him.
It had not been easy finding him. Alexi knew how to stay off the radar; paying in cash wherever he went and booking phony reservations whenever he left his country. Luckily for Noire, Alexi had an acquaintance in the US that he rendezvoused with every time he came over to keep tabs on his business enterprise in the Free World. The man, Adam Gerth, was no problem to find. He was a small time crack dealer and didn’t understand the importance of keeping a low profile. After only three days of taking the contract, Noire had tracked Adam down to a small, filthy apartment just outside of New York City proper.
After dispatching the man’s cronies with relative ease, it took Noire a few hours to extract the information her needed. Adam was resistant to share his knowledge but Noire’s interrogation methods were swift and intense. He had given up the location of Alexi’s secret meeting just moments before he died from internal hemorrhaging. Noire dumped the body and moved out, his sights set on the small town of Carthage near the US military base of Fort Drum. Alexi had paid off several American officials and was expecting a large shipment of explosives and army drones. A few well placed phone calls had ensured that that would not be happening.
Noire studied the men in the room across from him carefully. They all carried automatic weapons and had a side arm strapped on under their arms. There was no way of telling what hardware Alexi had on his person from Noire’s vantage point. As Noire watched, two more men entered the room, dragging a third. The third man was in bad shape, having been beaten and bond. His carriers dumped him in a rickety chair and went to binding him with more ropes.
A soft growl escaped Noire’s throat as he watched. Now there were seven bodyguards and a potential innocent. The new arrivals did not appear to have weapons on them but Noire wasn’t going to take any chances. He extended his talents and began to sift through the minds of everyone in the room. He was surprised to learn that the bound man was an informant for the FBI that had had his cover blown. They were planning on killing him as soon as Alexi got confirmation of his arms deal; a confirmation that would never come.
He shifted his balance slightly and closed his eyes. He let out a small, high-pitched sound and focused the sonar part of his mind on the returning sound waves which gave him a detailed picture of the areas in and around the room that he could not see. There were another two men standing outside the door of the room acting as sentinals. A second growl echoed from Noire. He was getting disenchanted with his line of work but it was all he knew.
As he thought out his plan of attack, Alexi moved to stand in front of the prisoner that his men had brought to him. Noire could see his lips moving but not even his sensitive ears could pick out identifiable words. No matter; whatever it was that he was saying to the man wouldn’t have any bearing on the mission at hand.
He wished that he dared use his gifts to create a distraction but his energy reserves were already depleted quite a bit. It had been a while since he last fed on human energy. Without taking his eyes off the window, he pulled the two silver daggers from their sheathes at his waist and then leapt off the building. He free fell for several feet before his wings snapped open with a pop and spread to their full length. He banked left slightly and lined himself up with the window.
Just before impact, he tucked his wings in tight against his body, shielding his face and blasted through the glass. He curled his body and rotated a little, hitting the wooden floor and rolling. The humans in the room let out startled cries and reached for their weapons. Noire flung both his daggers at the two Russians in front of him as he lost his momentum. They screamed as the blades drove themselves deep into their chests.
In the same instant, Noire popped up and landed on his feet next to the bigger of the bodyguards. The man raised his rifle but Noire knocked it away with on hand while he sliced the man’s throat with his claws on the other. He let the force of his attack swing him around as guns fired and a hail of bullets swarmed around him. Both hands whipped around to his back and drew the two .45’s that had been stuffed down into his belt. He fired two shots from each while running towards an over turned couch, killing two humans and wounding Alexi in the leg as the crime lord turned to run for the door. He went down with a cry just as the two sentries busted through the door, ripping it off its hinges. Noire had no time to mount a second attack. He dove behind the couch, skidding a little as he hit the floor as the two remaining criminals emptied their weapons.
He stayed down and out of sight till he heard the ‘clicks’ from his attacker’s weapons that meant they were out of ammo. They had aimlessly sprayed several dozens of bullets in their fear without even hitting the couch. How had these guys made it into Alexi’s bodyguard? To be honest, Noire was slightly disappointed. He expected much more resistance then this.
When he heard the magazines hit the floor as the thugs began to reload, he popped up, .45’s in hand and ran to the other side of the room, guns blazing the entire way. One of the attackers took three, well-placed rounds to the chest and he would have gotten the second one as well if Alexi had not drawn his gold-plated .357 magnum and fired at Noire.
The Ice Prince of the Noctune family had been intending to take shelter beside an over turned table near the left wall but Alexi was a much better shot then his men were. One bullet grazed his thigh and a second punctured his wing. He yelled and dodged behind a concert support beam. Alexi continued firing, chipping off bits of rock with every shot.
“Stop.” Alexi shouted as his surviving crony raised his rifle to pepper the pillar Noire was hid behind. There was a slight pause before he continued, “You are very good killer, assassin. There is no good for you to die.”
The man’s English was heavily accented and not top notch. Noire waited and listened, his eyes flicking once to the restrained captive in the chair about ten feet from him. The man had survived the fire fight somehow and was looking at him like he was looking at his own death. That was the typical reaction for humans who got their first good look at Noire. Most never lived long enough to try to figure out what he was.
“You come out now and I let you live to fight again.” Alexi’s voice was strained from the pain of being wounded and Noire could hear the man moving slowly towards the door.
How stupid did Alexi think he was? That man’s word was no better than any of Noire’s slimy family members.
“I have a counter offer for you. Lay down your weapons and I’ll kill you quickly.” The crime boss was right at the door now from what the assassin could hear and by now the Russian bodyguard would have reloaded and quite possibly Alexi himself.
“No. You give up now or die.” The gangster replied.
Noire watched the FBI agent the entire time. He nodded his head in the direction of his target a few times but the human was just not getting the message.
“No chance, human. Noire never backs out on his contracts.” He referred to himself in the 3rd person, hoping his name would inspire fear.  The two Russians began muttering amongst themselves and he took this time to send a message to the captive human.
::Track the remaining thug with your eyes if he moves.:: He sent to the man’s mind, feeling more of his energy flow out of him.
The agents eyes went wide and after a few seconds, he turned his gaze away from Noire, his eyes focused on something Noire couldn’t see.
“You are bullshit! Noire is myth.” Alexi yelled. He was starting to get mad.
Good. In Noire’s experience, once someone let themselves go to their emotions, they were sitting ducks. Anger clouded the mind and dulled the senses. Noire stared at the FBI agent’s eyes, waiting for them to move. He quickly calculated how many rounds he had left in his weapons; more than enough.
The agent’s eyes started to move as he watched the last bodyguard begin easing up on Noire from the left then they flicked back to Alexi who was dragging himself up. Noire heard glass crunch underfoot and swore under his breath. He could tell by the footfalls that it was Alexi leaving the room through the busted door.
“Damnit.” He growled softly. He moved around the edge of the pillar to the left, guns held out and expecting to confront the remaining Russian. The man was about ten feet to the right of where the agent’s eyes had been looking and Noire flung himself back just as two rounds from the man’s rifle whizzed by his head. He dodged back behind the pillar and gave the bound human a nasty look. The thug peppered the pillar with a spray of bullets before stopping. He was a cautious one; that was for sure.
Noire focused himself and let out another high-pitched trill while in the same instant he stuck his hand around the corner and fire two shots as the sound waves painted a picture of the room on his brain. The first round missed but the second was better aimed. It struck the man directly in the throat and sent him to the floor in a heap.
The anthro assassin didn’t waste any time; he ducked around the pillar and ran for the door and out into the hall. Alexi was nowhere to be seen but a trail of fresh blood lead down the hall and around the corner towards the stairwell. As silently as death calling, Noire stalked down the hall and edged around the corner. The blood streak ended at the stairwell door. He advanced carefully, both .45’s held out in front of him. He reached the door and kicked it open, stepping in and checking both directions, ready to kill.
His wing ached from the hole that had been punched in it and he tried to force it from his mind. Below him he could hear the injured movements of his target. He eased up to the railing beside the stairs leading down and leaned forward, trilling once. Alexi was four flights down and moving slowly. In one, smooth motion, Noire leapt onto the railing and, gritting his teeth, spread out his wings a little. He took a deep breath, pulled his guns to his chest and stepped off into the small area between the stairs. He counted each stairway as it flashed past him on his way down, his slightly expanded wings slowing his fall substantially. The moment he passed the third flight, he held his guns out and fired a round from each weapon, lining up perfectly with the Russian gangster as he fired.
Alexi had only a split second to react and was much too busy trying to save himself then fight back. Both bullets ripped through his chest, killing him instantly and Noire tilted his wings, pushing them all the way open and fighting back the scream of pain. He dropped both guns and reached out; his clawed fingers locked around the angled railing two flights down from where Alexi lay dead and only a flight up from the unforgiving ground. He swung his legs over and onto the stairs, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. He leaned against the cold, cinder block wall and panted; his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a cliché canine.
“I am getting to old for this.” He complained to himself in a whisper.
He closed his eyes for a moment and focused on slowing his breathing and heartbeat. The adrenalin rush that he got during every encounter with a target was like a high. It honed his reflexes and focused his mind but he was also starting to get addicted to it. Addiction led to distraction and he could not afford any distractions in his line of work.
He forced his body to relax itself and calmed his mind. After a few seconds, his eyes popped open and he looked up. He slinked down the stairs to the bottom floor and recovered his two guns then started the long climb back up to the seventh floor where he had entered. He had a loose end to deal with. As he neared the ravaged room he thought through his options; mulling over every choice. He didn’t stop in the doorway but walked straight in; his ears perking at the distant wail of police sirens. The FBI agent was struggling in his chair in an effort to get free. He froze instantly when he saw Noire walk in; his face going pale and clammy in an instant. His mouth opened but no words came out. He was sure that he was about to die.
Noire walked towards him and past him, reaching out with one hand and catching the back of the chair and tipping it backward. He spun around on the heel of his black  boot; his trench coat swirling around his legs just as the chair impacted the ground and tore a moan form the human. Noire squatted down and reached into the man’s jacket pockets, looking for I.D.. He was pretty sure that the man wasn’t armed; any weapons he had on him would have been taken before he was brought in.
“A-are you going to kill me.” The agent asked, looking up at Noire with terrified eyes
The young assassin didn’t respond, just kept searching the man for any form of identification. He wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with this.
“Please, I. . .”
“Who are you?” Noire interrupted in his usual cold, clinical tone.
“I-I’m Agent Ragan with the Federal Bur. . .”
“Agent Ragan, do you know who I am?”
The man shook his head.
Noire concentrated on the man, using his nearly depleted psy-powers to probe his mind. He dove down deep, into the man’s memories; watching scenes of his life like a movie and trying to learn all he could about the agent.
“What are you planning on doing with me?” Agent Ragan, asked. His voice getting stronger.
After several seconds of silence, Noire spoke, “Listen very carefully, Agent Ragan. I know that you have a family. I know about your wife, Linda and your two children, William and Scarlet.” The man’s eyes went wide, “I know where you live and obviously I know where you work. I am going to let you live but in so doing the lives of your family are on loan to me. If ever you breathe a word of what you saw here tonight I will come to collect on that loan and there is nowhere that you can go that I can’t find you. Do you understand what I am saying?” The lack of emotion in Noire’s voice was frightening. He might as well have been quoting the wholesale price of yams.
Agent Ragan nodded, “I won’t tell a soul. I swear.”
“Good man.” There was no doubt that man was sincere in his vow to be silent. Noire was still deeply entrenched in his mind, making lying impossible. “Now then. . . try not to scream.”
Noire’s hand clamped down on Agent Ragan’s shoulder in a grip so tight it could have broken bone. In the bat of an eye, Ragan found his entire body consumed with an intense cramping sensation that ached right down to his marrow. The pain was so intense he nearly lost consciousness the moment it hit him. The agent’s skin around Noire’s hand began to turn a light gray color as the very essence of his life was siphoned out a little at a time. Noire drained him down till he passed out completely, impressed that the agent actually managed not to scream. That was rare in his victims. Had his energy not been so low, he wouldn’t have subjected the human to his drain but he needed life-force badly and was not breaking his word to let the man live. He’d recover in a few days. Of course, he’d feel like shit until then.
Noire stood up slowly and walked out of the room, tucking his twin .45’s into his belt behind his back and collected his prized daggers, leaving the agent and all seven dead bodies where they lay. He had a client to meet up with and a bounty to collect.