Wouldn't Happen to Me

Main Story:Of the Bloodline: Way of the Shinobi

Misted Over
It was getting well past sundown, and this was getting oddly suspicious.

He had not counted on the environment to make this seem like a bad special effect used in a theater set in the redlight district, but apparently as the sun lowered its head in the sky and eventually sunk behind the sudden line of th horizon, the veil of mist now clouding his eyes fell in its place.

It was thin and spidery, floating as if waiting for something to blow it away, or like it was anxious to get off shift so the sun could take over again. There was no moon, and the street lamps placed at monotonous intervals along the street were the absolutely only source of light in the town at the time. They glowed orange, setting the mist on fire, and leaving the darkened shadows to do their work on the rest of the world. For any other target, this would've been the perfect place to kill someone. Quick and silent, not even letting them scream, only watching from the shadows he had sprung from as their body sunk beneath the mist like a downed vessel at sea.

But, this was not the case.

She was no mere stranger or politician, but a strong one. She was his kin, but that did not effect his opinion. Ninja were more difficult to dispatch than others, especially when their guard was down.

And that never happened.

The crook blades were already on his arms, the metal itself screaming for use and his fingers twitching like the ears of an animal in danger, crawling on the side of a building like some strange, black, gnarled insect that was large enough to kill with the flick of a wrist. The alley he had chosen was perfect too, placed so the pattern of lamps intersected with the alley's location, allowing absolutely no light to shine on what might have been inside. He could see everything outside of his black world, but no one could see him. He heard footsteps, female, sandals, possibly hands free. The last pert worried him.