Soft-bottomed boots pitter-pattered through alleyways, followed silently by rough paws.

The masked figure suddenly stopped and threw himself back against the wall. This was his stop. Tito, dressed in all black, looked up the side of the building. To the casual observer it would seem shear, and completely impassable. Yet, to his trained eyes, honed through years spent at his work, Tito could make out a plethora of niches, handholds, and indentations he could use to get up.

Turning to his bander companion, Tito held up two fingers and rubbed then together. Jack sniffed to show that he understood the command and laid down against the wall, almost disappearing completely into the shadows. The wick smiled beneath his mask, Jack was a good watcher. Turning to his other friend, Tito motioned for it to move up onto his shoulders; Cookie was all too happy to comply.

With Jack watching for any "visitors" and his burgundy Osta settled, Tito began scaling the wall. His goal: the window of the third floor. It was a warm night, and all the portals were open.

He was use to this work, and his muscles quickly fell into a rythm. His pants and gloves were of a rough material to better grasp with, and even his knees were used to secure grips for his ascension.

Finally, he reached the window. Situating himself comfortably beneath it, he hummed a few notes. Cookie's ears immediately perked up and it craned its neck up to look into the window. Training taught the feline to mew once in Tito's ear for each person in the room, a lick on his cheek would tell him the coast was clear.

The osta's keen eyes peered into the darkness, flicking back and forth as it processed the information. Finally, it emitted two short mewls, one for each sleeping figure within.

(( <__< tito is a smexy ninja! ))

Two? He thought to himself. That wasn't good. He'd have to be careful, or things could turn bad quickly, especially considering the nature of his 'visit'.

Swallowing, Tito gripped the windowsill tightly with one hand and kicked off the outside wall with both legs. Twisting like an acrobat, the wick executed a handstand before falling into a crouch, looking into the room. Claws digging into his back told him that his passenger did not appreciate the maneuver, though he was quite happy to have pulled it off.

Within the room, the trespasser saw a desk stood in front of the window, blocking easy access. Two figures met his inquiring gaze, complicating things out of proportion. Cursing to himself in silent frustration, he pulled a picture from his pocket and looked at it in the moonlight. Stuffing it in his shirt, he took a deep breath and leaped head first.

Coming out of his jump, he fell into a roll to soften his landing, but he couldn't help a small thud as his hit. Coming into a crouch, Tito reading himself to fight and listened intently for any sound or stirring from the sleeping inhabitants.

The woman nearest to Tito stirred slightly in her sleep. She thought she could feel something strange - her husband's sleeping field was still beside her, but another energy was coming from one side. She imagined she must be dreaming, and turned over.

Her hand draped over the side of the bed. In the moonlight, Tito could see an ornate ruby wedding ring decorating her slim, pale ring finger.

Silently, Tito cursed, not at the woman's movement, but at the fact there was a woman here. The ring which glistened in the moonlight only made things worse. He hated to do this.

Pulling his field in close to his body, he thought carefully about the situation, not daring to move and allowing the darkness to shroud his presence. He couldn't steal anything. If the man had been alone, this could have been passed off as a robbery gone bad, but in the current circumstance, everyone would know it was simple murder--no, an assassination.

Steeling himself, Tito pushed his flurried emotions away and sucked his field in as tight as he could. Moving to the other side of the bed, he glanced at the man, there was no mistaking his mark. Stifling a sigh, Tito reached down into a pouch and retrieved a jeweled dagger. Its make was unique, telling him that his employer either wanted to send a statement or shift blame to someone else.

The wick didn't really care and dispassionately drove the blade through the man's left eye, as he had been instructed. Aside from the low squish of moving flesh, there was no sound. Somewhere inside, he was happy; a strike to the brain was instant death.

The galdor did not cry out, but there was an involuntary thrashing of limbs as he writhed under Tito's blade.

The woman beside him woke instantly, and froze as she looked from Tito to her dead husband. She stared in horror at Tito, and screamed, a high, shrill sound loud enough to wake the servants; she was unable to run, or move at all, from terror.

The thrashing, admittedly, was unexpected. The wick had not thought the man to experience any death throes. Then again, was this kind of thing ever easy? He was glad he had deigned to wear a mask this evening, lest he be recognized.

Even as the woman began screaming, Tito was already flinging himself over the bed. For a moment, he considered stopping, but Cookie appeared on his shoulder, and he doubled his speed. Landing, he took two quick steps before lunging out of the window.

Catching the sill, the acrobatic assassin kicked off of the ledge and flung himself onto the wall of the adjacent building. His fingers found a hold on the ledge of a similar window across from the one he had exited and one story higher.

A low whistle escaped his puckered lips. It was a signal for Jack to head back to the B&B. With a quick glance down, he began scrambling up the side of the building. Once he reached the rooftops, he knew he'd be home-free.

A blast of heat almost knocked Tito off-balance as a blazing fireball rushed past his right ear.

The galdori woman was at the window, dressed in a nightgown, her face wild with blind rage. She was casting at him, shrieking in Monite, and fireball after fireball was flung haphazardly through the night air. One grazed his leg, burning a whole in his pants; another slammed into the wall of the building beside him, leaving a smoking crater.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" she screamed. There were further shouts from inside the house, presumably servants, and some more lights went on in the building Tito was standing on as the destruction and screaming woke up the residents.

Clocking bander...

Flipping himself around while still maintaining his grip, Tito pulled two daggers from his side, and his sharp eyes thinned as he acquired his target. He did not want to hurt the woman, he would only... disable her. With a quick flick of the wrist, he sent both flying daggers on a beeline for the woman's throat. They each sought to find a sheath on either side of her esophagus. Neither strike desired to taste anything vital, instead attempting to render the woman's vocal abilities useless.

However, Tito thought, grinning only slightly beneath his mask, if she moves but a little, she's toast. The thought didn't give him pause as he swung himself up and kicked off the building, this time aiming for the roof of the woman's home.

Not so easily would this shrill woman be silenced; she caught the daggers in midair with a flick of her wrist, though one came close enough to rip her earlobe. They thudded into the side of the building and stuck there.

As Tito landed on the roof, he saw the woman climbing from the edge of the window, her eyes burning with rage. She had stopped screaming, but he could see pure hatred in her face. Clearly, her marriage had not been one of convenience.

"Stop!" yelled a servant from inside the house. "Oh please, miss, you're hurt! Get inside, quickly!"

Gritting her teeth, the woman raised her arm, and prepared to cast another spell, aiming directly for Tito's heart.

Tito swore silently beneath his mask, Would this woman shut up???

In one fluid motion, Tito pulled a sack from his belt and slight it carefully. In the sack was a mixture of flower and pepper. It was his favotire techinique for neutralizing pesky casters, and from the way her field felt, he knew he had to stop her. Fast.

The sack flew swiftly through the air, sending an odd spray of the powder in its short flight. On impact, they frail fibers rend, which along with the momentum and force cause the poweders to scatter. The flour gums the mouth and clogs the nose and eyes. The pepper aggrivates the throat, eyes, and nose. The combination making the articulate speach of monite nearly impossible.

The woman got a faceful of the mixture, and stood oddly still for a moment before clawing at her eyes. She let go of the drainpipe for a moment to try to wipe the flour from her face.

Time seemed to stand still as she teetered on the windowsill. The screams of her servants hung in the air as she leaned back, gracefully, not floundering or wobbling. Her face took on an aura of calm acceptance as she fell from the ledge.

Three stories later, she was a red stain on the cobblestones.

"Pfft, poxy she-bander should have left well-enough alone." Tito growled even as the woman was falling. His feet nearly flew as he sped across rooftops, not wanting to be around when to hear the sickening squish he knew was coming.

He ran as if his conscience were chasing him, not letting his pace slow across the buildings as he headed toward the painted ladies.

(( And it can end here, unless you have something else in mind. ))