Warrior Cats: The Four Clans

"Perfect. Then we shan't use the entrance. Thanks Annie." He tossed the nickname over his shoulder as they walked, coming up on the left side and looking back and forth. No cameras. How silly. He leaped, using some of the panther strength that was in his genes and easily reached a ventilation shaft on the side of the building. He pulled the screen off and threw it, hard, so it landed somewhere on the right side of the building, after ricocheting off a few buildings and completely changing the direction it had come from. The guards immediately ran over to check it out. Painter easily clung onto the shat with his elbows and whispered into his mic, "Climb up. I doubt you can jump this high. I'm one of the few who can." His feet dangled low, at about her eye-level.

"Kein, you staying down there? Can I ask you to neutralize those guards out front quietly? Make your way in from there." He then hauled himself up and pushed through the vent, although it was a bit of a tight squeeze. His broader shoulders did not agree very much with the metal. He sighed, but pushed through, although he heard the metal groan. "I'll have to get out of here soon, the first empty room I can find. I want you to continue through the shafts Annie, till you make it up to the highest security room you can find. I'll probably be in there, and I might need a hand. I trust you. Don't let me down." He saw an empty storage room and kicked the bottom vent out, shoving through and falling ungraciously to the floor. He landed like any cat would however, using his tail, for a perfectly silent entrance. Other than that clanging vent. He stepped on it to silence it and looked around. A uniform storage room. Perfect! He walked over, pulled one of the white coats over his own coat, a lab research. He wasn't ready to give up his coat yet, so he wouldn't go with one of the officer costumes. No, a researcher would do just fine. Hopefully he wouldn't get mad enough to show his ears. His tail tucked in close, hiding beneath the two layers of coats. "Onward I go~" He pulled an ID tag off the wall, one that had a similar picture to his, and pulled a clipboard off the side of the room. Then he took one of the empty papers below and started scribbling science-y crap about shape-shifting Nighthawks on it. Then he took off, striding down the hall and up the stairs. He was questioned once and he showed his identification to move onward. So far, so good.

Painter made his way up another floor until he reached what looked like the central command room. He strode purposefully, his black boots clacking against the floor. The storage room had had identical boots to his, he didn't want to swap them out. After all, his held weapons. He knocked on the door and someone answered with a gruff, "Who is it?"
"Peter Shalloh, a lab researcher," Painter replied obediently. The door was opened a crack and he was asked for identification. He held up his pass card and was let in. A but man with broad shoulders sat in a chair looking at the screens in front.
"Any breakthroughs?" He asked, not turning his chair at all.
"Yes sir. One, sir. About that panther you were asking about. We found out who he is." Painter smiled, as if an evil smirk from working with the government.
"Oh? Who is he?" The man turned around. He was almost bald, but he had a thick mustache and a beard.
"Me." Painter shed his white coat and smacked one of the guards with his clipboard, stunning him. He slapped the heel of his boot twice, consecutively, against the floor, making a blade pop out. He kicked at the other guard, two stunned, three to go. Then he leaped, pulling another knife out of his black coat and threw it at the third man. As he was turning to attack the fourth guard, the official stood and out of the corner of his eye, Painter saw a gun raising. The man ****ed it, and Painter froze.
"Well well Panther. Thank you, for bringing us such a nice present. Oh, and by the marks on your face, it seems you are quite well esteemed within the Nighthawk ranks." The man waved his gun and Painter raised his arms, dropping the knife. "Now we have another guinea pig."
Painter narrowed his eyes. "Now," the merest whisper was caught by the microphone on his throat, travelling up to Anya, wherever she was.

"Nothing." Painter grinned, a sharp canine tooth showing. "Let's smash it." He lifted his leg high and smashed it down on one of the control panels, creating a show of sparks. Then he lifted an arm ans punched through one of the computer screens. "We better hurry. Others will have heard those gunshots if they weren't alerted by their bosses first." Another computer was smashed in the time it took him to speak that one sentence. "I'll run out the way I came in. You go back through the vents. Want me to boost you up?" Another control panel smashed in a dazzling show of sparks. The first stunned guard was struggling to stand up. Painter pulled out his last knife and threw it straight at the man. It sailed through his neck and embedded in the wall. He left the control panels and pulled his knife out of the wall, drying and cleaning it on one of the dead mens' coats. He took his other knife off the ground, cleaning it too. Then he picked up the white coat he had discarded, and pulled it up, adorning it. It had a few blood splashes, all the better. "Ready to rumble?" He stood under the vent and made a cup with his hands, interlocking his fingers. The last computers had died, and now it was time to go.