Warrior Cats: The Four Clans

Trying to keep it even is nice, but there's no certain limit. Anyway, I'll be starting in a few minutes~ Ixie, fix your bio and I'll add you up.

Ooc: Let's start this roleplay~

Ic:A glance to the left. A peek to the right. All clear. "Everyone out, Shepard?" the words were caught by the microphone, amplified into the sound of a normal voice, when in reality they had been the merest of whispers. "All clear on the go," was the second sentence uttered. Mission success, and they would be getting out without notice from the government. Oh, the hated government. Painter had one of the worst relationships with the government, deaths left and right in his family. Almost every member had been a Nighthawk, and so he was left with high expectations, everyone searching for him to be the hero that led them to a new dawn. He was something of that hero, rising through the ranks to be the Nighthawks' most elite team's commander, and he was not interested in going any higher. Field work was the work for him, not some office job. Sure, Sarah Nighthawk did much work, but she wasn't out on the field, she could be caught too easily. The government wasn't that stupid.
Another scan of the road around and Painter zipped out of the alley he had been sheltering in, dashing across the street and pressing up against the wall. "So far, all clear," the whisper was directed to his team, spread around at certain points he had determined as safe, many of them carrying the blueprints to stolen technology, and a few examples too. Painter had such a canister of many blueprints rolled up slung across his back. Luckily, it matched his clothing. Where he had been standing a moment before, on the other side of the street in an alley stood another of his team. They inched up behind, waiting for the next all clear. Painter stepped forward, as stealthy as a cat, looking out the next street. A box clattered to the ground in the middle of the street, some way down. Painter inched his head out and leaped back as a bullet whizzed by his face. "So much for that easy retreat. Agents on the loose. I need backup."

-- Edited by Duskstar on Friday 14th of August 2009 08:34:33 PM

Serenity slipped gracefully through the alleyway. Her eyes narrowed as they caught sight of a shadow across the street, in between two tall commercial buildings. She shook her head with a silent sigh as she headed toward the street, hiding in the shadows. A bus drove past; she ran alongside it, hiding herself from view of the agent. She slowed her pace, dashing out from behind the bus and cramming herself into another nook, three yards away from the agent, who still had his gun out, aimed at where Painter's head had disappeared. Silently...she slipped off her boots and left them in the nook...holding her breath, she crept behind the agent...slid out her silver dagger, her mother's dagger...and stabbed.
The man didn't have time to make a sound. Serenity's dagger went straight through his back, sticking out through his chest. With a slight grunt she yanked it out, kicking the agent to the ground. She stuffed his body into the shadows where he had been hiding.

Painter was looking left and right, staying the bait for the remaining soldiers. One had been put out of commission, that much he knew. Others were northeast, he could hear their footsteps, at least two. There also appeared to be some hiding around south. "It was an ambush..." he whispered, looking around. then his lip curled. "If it's a fight they want, it's a fight they'll get." He knelt, changing forms, still having the blueprints slung around his back. His coat and clothes became part of his fur, which was why he always wore black. Neon green panthers were not in style. He snuck out of the alley, crept along in the shadows, as languid as a liquid shadow himself. Down south, he saw three other agents, two in the alley, one in the street, bait. "Three down here," he murmured, the microphone that had been on his throat as a human now translated his growls, turning them into English. One spotted him sneaking and fired a shot, too high. Painter, having been noticed, sped up, running at full speed until he slammed into the agent in the street, tearing at him with his claws. He made sure to move quick, so he wouldn't get hit. As soon as the first agent was down, he leaped into the alley, going for the second one. The third one now had a bigger target, much closer too. He fired and hit Painter in the front leg. Painter growled but continued his attacks on the second one, leaping for the third.