He prowled through the mansion grounds, crouched and ready to attack. Dressed in black from head to toe; t-shirt, gloves, jeans and athletic shoes for the more dangerous maneuvers. Not that he anticipated danger; he just liked to be prepared. A peeking five o'clock shadow and shaggy, dark brown hair, added to his shadowy appearance.
Cautiously, he monitored the security cameras, making sure the timing was just right for his next move. He slid into position, next to the hedges growing just below a large balcony, surveying the outside for an easy point of entry. He was considering breaking in the old fashioned way when he saw that a second story window was cracked. Granted, it was a fifteen feet jump from the balcony, but he'd make it.
With a final glance towards the cameras, he crept into position.
Nowhere near the security a place this big needs,
he thought. Stealthily, he inched closer darting to another bush, when he heard footsteps. He crouched low to the ground and stilled his movements. His breathing calmed and his heart rate slowed. He didn't want to give away his position or the element of surprise. A guard passed by at a leisurely pace, pausing to receive a radio transmission.
"Clint." The squawk of the radio was deafeningly loud in the silent night air.
"Yeah boss?"
"Your wife called. Get your ass back to the command post so we don't have to hear her voice any longer than necessary."
"Roger that." The guard took off at almost a run.
He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and watched as the guard disappeared from sight. Slowly extending to his full height, he eyed the distance between his position and the balcony above. He could make it. With merely a four-step run, he landed the two-story jump.
He latched onto the railing, using it as an anchor to pull himself up and over, and land lightly on the other side. Standing, he flattened his back against the wall and moved noiselessly down its length. Barely more than a shadow to anyone who cared to look.
Slowly, he twisted the door handles lining the balcony. To his surprise, a door slid open on the third attempt. Covertly he moved to just the right angle before peering inside. It was a security room, filled with men and computers. It didn't get better than that. Reaching back he pulled the pistol from his jeans, his fingers sliding expertly over the trigger. He exhaled softly to loosen his nerves, before he moved forward.
He took out three people before anyone noticed; the scream drew their attention to the doorway. It didn't take the guards long to act and pull a gun but he took it in stride. Effortlessly nailing each person before moving on to the next. When he looked up, there was only one man left who possessed a look of shock across his face. He moved up close, staring him in the eye before pulling the trigger. Turning, he examined the victims of his attack. His face broke into a grin as he announced, "You're all dead." Then whirled around, and continued to fire into the face of the chief of security with the water pistol.
The stunning hazel of his eyes glittered as he let loose a good-natured laugh. Several of the soaked guards were making it back to their feet. Some flashing glares; others smiling and shaking their heads. The head of security fumed at Ethan, but he just smiled wide and slipped the barrel of the gun in his mouth, and pulled the trigger a few times. "It's not funny Ethan. We were all ready to kill you, until we recognized your face. I should have at least shot you for ruining my suit."
Ethan sighed, his expression turning serious. "No, William, what's not funny is that one man was able to penetrate the grounds undetected, let alone make it all the way to the security room." William squirmed under Ethan's gaze, "You, my friend, need to upgrade. There should be motion sensors, at least at the top of the fences; more security cameras, and a lock down policy for door and windows. If I had been armed tonight with a real gun, you'd all really be dead."
Ethan left the room; satisfied his point had been made. He threw the water pistol on a passing end table and pulled off his gloves, pressing them into his back pocket. He descended the stairs expecting to see more people.
I must be missing something, he thought. Oh well.
At the bottom of the stairs he turned left to head toward the kitchen.
The kitchen, like the rest of the mansion, was a statement of wealth. The tile flooring and granite countertops fell in line with the latest styles and showed little-to-no signs of use. Top-of-the-line appliances graced the walls like showroom pieces.
And it would be so easy to mistake this for a showroom
he thought. A frown flickered across his face, leaving when he spotted a man happily stocking the fridges behind the bar.
"Mark! Just the man I wanted to see," Ethan said in a friendly but cool tone as he walked over. "Restocking again? Don't you ever get a break?"
Mark smiled at his companion, "Not when you're in charge of providing blood for a mansion full of vampires. What can I get you buddy?" Ethan shifted over the bar, leaning in to inspect the goods.
"Is it still fresh?"
"Of course! Who do you think I am?" The insulted tone of Mark voice was broken by the smile on his face.
"Kill or blood bank?"
"Blood
drive
." Mark's tone was nonchalant, emphasizing the last word, before turning back to his duties. There was a moment of silence as Mark rifled through the bins contents and refilled the empty shelves.
Ethan couldn't hide the surprise in his voice when he spoke "But it's not the fifteenth!"
