Ember -- (Author) ZeroCG86

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Author: ZeroCG86
Timestamp: Jun 29, 2014 at 4:28 AM
Content: Author's Notes: This is an original story, though you may find some familiar concepts. The main character is based off of the Vulpix Pokémon, and some of the elements in the story are based loosely on the Pokémon franchise. I don't know the direction this story will take, as I never plot out my story ideas, I just follow them. I hope you enjoy it.
1
Vibrant yellow rays seeped through the partially drawn beige curtains. The sunlight slid across the floor like thin, sinuous tendrils. A dark gray paw stepped across one of the tendrils. The light briefly illuminated the shaggy, thick fur. The movement was swift, only catching a glimpse of the fading sunlight before briskly sweeping into the next room.

Rounding the corner with careful precision, the tall Wulffen aimed his pistol down the hallway. After a moment of scouring the area, he decided that there was nothing there. He cautiously proceeded, each step of his unencumbered paws exact. He came on a door on the left. As he approached the wooden door, he pressed himself flat against the wall and shimmied along until he could reach the handle.

With a steady, furry hand, he gripped the silver handle. He hesitated for a moment, taking a slow, determined breath. Then, he turned the handle and swept into the room in a single, swift motion. His pistol came down as he panned from left to right, then snuck a peek around the door itself. The room was empty, too. From the look of it, this was her bedroom. It didn't seem like much. A simple mattress with soft cotton sheets, an oak chest of drawers against the far wall, a small chifferobe to the right.

Raising an eyebrow, he approached the chifferobe. The closet portion of the furniture piece was small and tight, but he'd tracked plenty of other marks that hid out in smaller areas. He quickly tugged open the doors to the chifferobe, but found only more bedding.

He turned slowly and headed back into the hallway. There was another door, further down. He repeated the same method for entry into this room, sweeping into what he assumed was the guest room with ease and practiced perfection. As his pistol panned across the room, he heard a voice.

"Did Devon send you?" the woman's soft, casual tone caught him off-guard.

He jerked to the right, the polished gray handgun glinting in a single stream of light leaking in through the window. Before he could complete the turn, a blur of red fur and silver rushed at him. He felt the blade slice deep into his arm. The pain was almost immediate, and he lost his hold on his own weapon. His mark followed up with a sharp knee to his gut that sent him tumbling over backward onto the floor.

He rolled away immediately and pulled himself into a defensive crouch, clutching at his bleeding arm. Growling low, he looked up at the woman. She stood a few meters away from his position, casually holding her silver dagger, his blood dripping from the tip of the blade.

The dark red Foxxen returned his glare with solidarity and apathy. Her thin, lithe form stood aloof, but he could sense that she was ready for another attack. She held the knife at her side, the blade aimed away from him. His contract details had cautioned him of her close quarters combat skills. If the information was to be believed, he would need to find another way to engage her.

Ember looked down at the wounded Wulffen. "Did Devon send you?" she asked again, her question edged with a hint of irritation.

Her attacker only growled. In a flash, she closed the gap between them and placed the blade of her knife against his throat. He breathed heavily, but did not flinch. Instead, he angled his face upward to look her in the eyes, matching her black-eyed stare in defiance.

"You don't need to reply," she attested, tilting her head to look at his shoulder. "I recognize a lapdog when I see one."

"I'm no one's dog," the Wulffen snarled.

Ember spied her target. On the gray wolf's right shoulder, just beneath the still freshly regrown fur, there was the image of a D shaped like a wolf's head. Devon's mark.

"You bear his brand," she retorted softly, "and wear his collar. You leap at his beck. You are a dog."

The Wulffen barked sharply and leapt to his feet. Ember immediately drove her dagger into his throat and, in one graceful flick of her wrist, slit him open. He swiped a large, clawed hand at her, but lacked the coordination to make it land. He fell forward with the motion, feebly pressing a hand against his neck.

Ember left the room smoothly, stepping around the dead wolf and the pool of blood swiftly forming beneath him. Each of her six tails flicked as she moved. She tugged a cell phone from the pocket of her light blue jeans and pressed the first number in her speed dial.

"Lyle," she said when the call connected. "I need a clean-up. And a new house."