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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

Stricken with amnesia, Angel was found at age five by her future mentor, Zack. She never knew of her past-not even her real name-all she knew is that she possess a strange ability to take on the shape of any animal she wishes. Zack recognized her potential imediately and began to train her in his own profession, that is, master theivery.

But no criminals are safe from justice, not even the pros, and when Zack gets caught Angel must decide just how far she's willing to go to get him back-even as far as taking a hostage. But nothing never goes according to plan, and Angel still has a lot to learn.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - A.T.H.

Submitted: July 13, 2010

Reads: 166

Comments: 1

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Submitted: July 13, 2010



Chapter 1
Feline eyes stared out of the dark. They were a burnt orange, the kind that shines eerily when the light touches them. Not that there was light, at three in the morning. The small cat crouched in the brush, eyes roving the ground before her.  A small breeze ruffled the trees. It was chilly, in late fall, but the thick tortoiseshell coat kept her warm.
The ground in front of her gradually declined, forest disappearing into a jungle of steel and concrete buildings. Namely, the local police department headquarters. The cat’s tail twitched. Her eyes roved, looking up through the trees, on the guard for owls on the prowl. They normally didn’t take large cats, but she was just small enough to fit in one’s claws. Her bright amber eyes refocused on the building in front of her. All the lights were out save for the small guard’s room near the front. Things were quiet, even to the feline’s sensitive ears.
Her nose twitched. The wind was blowing the unpleasant scent of a stray tabby cat, approaching her from behind. Her ears twitched, and she stood from her crouch. Not waiting to see who it was, the cat leapt out of her secluded spot and trotted down the turf towards the town. There was no attempt to hide, and why would there be? She was just a stray cat, looking to find some food in the garbage or a sheltered spot to spend the night.
She came right up to the wire fence enclosing the back of the police station, and stopped, sniffing at the foot of the metal contraption. The cat glanced up curiously, taking in the strait, solid walls and roving cameras, the dried out turf beneath the shadow of the unnatural construction. She took a few steps to the left, orange orbs flashing at the strange, moving box with a blinking red light and glass lens.
Then something odd happened, something that would surely shock any human—and indeed any animal—who saw her in action. The small cat became smaller, seeming to shrink. Though not visible in the dark, the multicolored fur twitched and changed into a solid brown color. The long, graceful tail became thinner, all the fur sinking into the skin until nothing was left except a whip-like cord of pink, rapidly becoming smaller. The legs underwent a similar transformation, the retractable claws no longer retracting, forming a small paw more like the claw of a bird than a cat’s. The beautiful orange eyes dulled to black, and the pointed ears became rounded and wide. A small—now pink—nose twitched.
In the place where a cat had stood, now scampered a regular house mouse. The morph took a matter of moments, and when the cameras mounted on the wall moved mechanically back to its place, the cat had disappeared. Long lengths of grass hid the small mouse, disguising her as she ran up to the fence and jumped nimbly through one of the holes in the fence. She scuttled across the small turf between the fence and the wall, hiding under tufts of grass and cracks in the dry earth. Safer now, in the corner of the wall and the ground, out of view of the cameras, she ran around the edge of the building to where a small half circle of planking fitting snug with the walls edge. It was screwed down securely, but it took less a minute of digging with those small, sharp claws to burrow down under the wood.
The crawlspace was barely two feet high, filled with dank, smelly air. Rotting sewage from a broken pipe that had yet to be cleaned up was sitting in one corner, decaying away and taking a wooden foundation with it. It was the best haven for bugs she had ever seen, a fact that made her shy away from entering the pitch black hole. But this rat was not a quitter. She jumped down into the space, tail curling in disgust when she landed next to the carcass of a mole. One thing was for sure; she was not spending any more time here than she needed to.
Scampering around in the dark, she was forced to rely solely on her senses of smell, hearing, and the feel of her whiskers. There were several close calls with various pipes and wires due to the speed at which the mouse was running through the crawlspace. She made her way to the center of the enclosure—or what she thought was the center. It was hard to tell with no sight, but the sound waves created by machinery in the building above resonated downward and echoed all around her. It was as equal on all sides, as far as she could tell.
Nose twitching, she went slower now; trying to locate one of the many floor-vents connecting the lower floor to the crawlspace. It didn’t take long. Warm air being pumped into the crawlspace was flowing smoothly through the vent, allowing her to locate one such grate nearby.
She climbed onto a tangle of wires running under the vent and leaped onto a plank of wood placed directly below the opening. Standing on two legs, stretching to her full height, she reached up with one paw, using the other to steady herself, and she was just barely able to scratch it with a claw. Dropping down on all fours, the mouse’s tail lashed in frustration.
Then the tail paused, and all other movement in that little body stopped. In less than a second, the small mouse grew, proportions changing smoothly until she was larger and more muscular; the build of a rat.
She stretched up again, this time easily reaching the vent. With the hard bridge of her nose, the rat pushed at the metal. A grating screech echoed softly, causing the rat to pause. Going more carefully this time, she just nudged it. Wiggling it bit by bit, she gradually pushed the rusting vent out of the hole. Taking a quick sniff to make sure no one was in the room above, the rat hopped nimbly out of the crawlspace.
The room was dark and quiet. A heater hummed nearby. Expecting carpet, she was surprised to find cold tile covering the floor. A quick inspection of the room confirmed her suspicions; she was in a bathroom.
She found the door and sniffed at the crack underneath it. Again, the animal paused, freezing for that half second it took to transform from a rat back down to the mouse again. She squeezed her head under the door, flattening out until her eyes bulged. Her nose emerged on the other side, then her head and her neck. Now her shoulders and paws were under the door. She pushed with her hind legs and pulled with her front until she had squeezed her spine, hips and hind legs through the small opening.
The hall outside was also not lighted, save for a bright red exit sign that hurt her sensitive eyes when she looked at it. The mouse scurried along the thin carpet. Her movements were decisive as she took a quick left, two rights, and stopped at another door. This one was locked, but it had the same crack under the door. The mouse squeezed under and emerged on the other side.
Glancing around the storage room with her small beaded eyes, she took in the three small red lights, marking out the cameras in the dark. If possible, the mouse would have rolled her eyes. She settled for a mocking squeak. What idiot left cameras on in a pitch black room? She headed for the nearest one, swerving to avoid two large filing cabinets on the way.
Standing at the foot of the wall, she gazed up at the red dot, high above her, mounted on the wall. Then the mouse began to change yet again. This one was different though. Her round, fuzzy body grew slim and sleek. The gray fur sunk into the skin, which in turn grew bright green and hard. It split, like cracks in the desert ground, forming smooth scales. The tail widened, also morphing into a scaly creation. She gave one violent shiver as her heart began to pump cold blood through her veins.
The green anole reared back on her hind legs and started walking up the wall. In no time she was sitting squarely behind the security camera. She fastened her small lizard teeth on one of the wires and pulled her head to the side, ripping it out of the socket.
In the small guard’s room, a good half of the screens were black, or just barely showed the outline of furniture in a room illuminated by a window or two. One in the middle had nothing but two small dots of red to show. Suddenly the two dots disappeared. The night guard, busy talking to his wife on the phone about when he was going to find a job with better hours, didn’t even notice.
The anole went slowly, walking horizontally along the wall. She had no whiskers to warn her of obstacles, and only two red specks of light to show her where she was going. She made it to the second camera and pulled another wire. On her way to the third, she had a very close encounter with a fire alarm, but managed to get around it with nothing worse than a bruised snout. When the third camera was disconnected, she returned to the floor, dropping the last two feet to bounce softly on the carpet.
The next morph took longer than the rest, but still took no more then a second. The anole grew bulbously, with the green, scaly skin growing thick hair. The bones shifted, making a slight grating noise. Ears sprouted and the hands and feet grew thumbs. The tail sprouted new lengths and curled. The face was totally reformed, until the small lizard eyes changed into the wide, almond eyes of a chimp.
She was forced to feel around with her arms, waving around like a blind human and bumping into various filing cabinets and shelves. Her mind directed her to the back, two cabinets from the left, and up two drawers up. It wasn’t locked—thankfully. While the chimp could have picked the locks—possessing opposable thumbs and all—she was lacking in lock pick area.
The monkey pulled out the drawer, and her sensitive fingers rustled through the folders; past the first seven, to the eighth. This one was thick with various papers. She pulled it out and hugged it close to her chest. Walking on three legs, she made her way slowly back to the door.
She put the folder on the floor and slid it under the door, pushing it as far as her fingers would fit. Then it was yet another change, shrinking down, back to her mouse form. She could feel the effects of so many shape shifts, sucking up her energy like nothing else did. Her bones were beginning to feel tired, and she wasn’t even close to being done yet.
After squeezing under the door again, she resumed the shape of the monkey and picked up the file folder. Down the hall, around the corner and on her right, was a door—this one unlocked. The chimp’s childlike hand reached up to turn the handle.
The room was large, full of office cubicles. Windows lined one wall. She made her way to one, careful to avoid the cameras. This room required less security, hence the unlocked door and roving cameras that were easy for a small animal to avoid.
She found what she needed in the second desk she searched; a large envelope, just the size for a file folder. The monkey slid the file in the envelope and sealed it. That was when she encountered a problem. While a chimp had motor functions very similar to a human’s, writing out the address was a bit beyond its capabilities.
She was told to avoid this sort of thing, but she couldn’t think of any other options off the top of her head. The monkey began to morph, growing taller and standing straighter. The tail disappeared, as well as the fur, save for on the top of the head, where the hair grew long and dark.
What remained after the transformation was a young girl of sixteen. Her face was pale; made paler by the black clothes she wore. Long sleeved and tight fitting, they hugged her figure, allowing her to shape shift back and forth without losing all her clothes. Tight gloves covered her hands. Her hair was shoulder length and dark brown. She was short, even for a teenager, barely reaching four feet, seven inches. Large, pale gray eyes stared out of the darkness.
The girl grabbed a pen from the desk and scribbled an address on the envelope. She placed the pen back, making sure it was in the exact place she had picked it up from. She ducked under a camera, hugging the wall, and walked to the end of one row of cubicles. The girl dropped the envelope in a basket marked “mail”. It was filled with other such envelopes and boxes.
Leaving the room behind, she slunk down the hall, back to the bathroom. It took several more tiring morphs before she was safely out of the building. It was scary how much it drained her to change her form like that.
The rat struggled out of the hole and plopped down on the grass, eyes glazed with exhaustion. Then she roused herself and made one more transformation. This time, the fur that covered her turned to soft downy feathers, and larger, more solid feathers started to grow over them. Her face distorted until it formed a small beak. Her forepaws changed the most, stretching outward, with joints popping and sprouting feathers everywhere. Her tail shrunk and disappeared, replaced by long feathers.
The newly formed sparrow spread her feathers and shook her wings. She took off tiredly, flapping erratically, soaring up and down. It felt like forever before her tiny eyes spotted two sets of light below. She folded her wings and fell through the night, spreading them at the last minute and pulling up. She swooped through the open window of the car, landing heavily on the back seat.
The man in the driver’s seat flicked on the lights and turned around. Light fell on his face. His hair was dyed black and cut short. He was older than he looked, but his eyes were still the same crystal blue they had been when she first saw them, eleven years ago. He always had a humorous manner about him, and even now his eyes were smiling.

“How’d it go?” he asked the sparrow, who chirped darkly at him, then curled up and tucked her head under a wing, promptly falling asleep. The black-haired man smiled warmly and turned back around, turning the light back off. He closed the windows to keep out the cool, fall air, and turned the heat on. Turning the key in the transmission, he pulled out of the quiet parking lot and drove east, out of town.

If you liked it so far, you can find more here: http://katara-ikard.deviantart.com/art/Chapter-2-160545108

© Copyright 2017 Katara Ikard. All rights reserved.


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