[hider=Act 1; Scene 2]”It had been a couple hours after the initial event as this aged raven recalls when the first significant stroke came not from the Badgers...”

Sleuthing about in the darkness of an alleyway, the scampering of several cockroaches marked the badly mutilated corpse of someone who had been struck by the lightning of a Valkyrie. Smiral wrinkles her nose in disgust at the scent, stepping around the remnants of what was once a turtle, now most certainly delicious to the hecklers who lapped up his blood. The town’s one menace had been slain ages ago, and yet, his stench still perforated this place.

Smiral’s hands slowly glide over the brick wall, looking for the hidden switch she had been told about. “That otter better not have lied about this shit.” She murmurs as her whiskers twitch with the all too familiar click of a passage opening. “Hehehe... Well what do you know...” Cackling quietly, she slouches over as she enters the small passage, which had likely been designed for the lithe bodies of mice rather than her own, more muscular frame. Indeed, one could say that Smiral’s black pants and shirt—which was tucked into her pants—went well with the dark, with only a single belt cinched around her waist to keep her shirt from bellowing out anytime she had to jump from one place to another. Some might question why she appeared so bland, her usual response was “what kind of idiot wears eight belts.”

Slipping inside, she quickly checks herself over. Smoke bombs, check. Rope and grappling hook, check. Billy club for the bitches, check. Grinning avariciously she quickly moves through the tunnel into the complex, upward onto a second floor where she found herself in a laundry shoot. Quietly pawing it open, she slips inside. It was a luxurious compound, her eyes opening widely at the sights and sounds of obscene wealth that drowned out her typically cool demeanour. Shaking herself out, she then slips about the halls until she finds her target, dining quietly in a hall with her solitary crow watching over her. Licking her lips she spots the target: A small amethyst, resting on the corner of the table.

[i]”Perfect.”[/i]

Without hesitation, she throws a smoke bomb into the room. Following it quickly as it exploded, she reaches for the amethyst amidst all the smoke, instead grasping Idle’s hand, which had already clung to the amethyst. “LET GO!” The Moth Boss screeched as Smiral does what any coyote does in such a situation: Bites Idle’s arm, hard, right at the wrist. Twisting and rending she then feels the feathery wing of Gold Marble smack her away, sending her sprawling through the air several feet before landing on the ground, outside of the smoke. She could hear the shrieking rage of the Moth Boss, scrambling to her feet she looks in her hands to see the Amethyst and some splatters of blood on her gloves. Grinning viciously she dashes out of the room back into the halls, hearing the screams of the Moth Queen demanding her head on a platter.

Still. That wasn’t her main problem.

The main problem came to trying to navigate back to the laundry shoot. Looking around in confusion she realizes she had lost track of where she had gone. “Ah... Shit. Um...” She looks left, down a hall, then right, down a hall. Every hall looked the same in her eyes, being moreso a thug and not a thief, she wasn’t much one for an escape plan. Still, her indecision was broken upon hearing the wall behind her getting blown apart. There was Gold Marble, his feathers seemingly as sharp as the executioner’s blades that now reflected in her own eyes as she panics and flees down the left hall.

There at the end of the left hall was a window, she could jump out of that! Escape was in sight! An undead fellow steps out of his room into the hall, looking down to see the enraged Gold Marble and the terrified Smiral he attempts to step in the way, only to see a grappling hook fly through the air and impale itself into his chest. “Derp?” He says with confusion as Smiral flicks a switch on the grappling hook, being pulled out of harm’s way just in time as Gold Marble swings his wing, unleashing half a dozen sharp fletchette-like projectiles. Flipping overtop of the mook she hides behind his large frame, seeing the fletchettes impale themselves into the mook. One of them pierces his back and cuts Smiral’s cheek deeply, yelping in pain she leaves the grappling hook behind and bolts for the window once more.

Jumping through the window, she reminds herself how stupid an action movie cliché she was doing as she falls several feet back down into the alley, bouncing off of a trash bin before rolling into the alley. There, she lied motionless, not saying a word as Gold Marble came down and investigated. There was nothing out of the ordinary, just another corpse to be eaten by the cockroaches as he retrieved the amethyst. “No simple thief gets to have my soul.” He hoarsely comments to himself before suddenly, and without warning, he feels a billy club smack him over the back of the head as Smiral hops onto his back and starts wailing away at his head. “FALL UNCONSCIOUS YOU CLICHED PIECE OF SHIT!” She screeches as Gold Marble silently stumbles about, trying to knock her off.

Eventually, Gold Marble rushes himself into a wall, buckling it and sending the both of them sprawling into a dark warehouse. There, Smiral spends a few seconds coughing up half a lung as blood from her cheek rolls onto the floor, looking around she notices she didn’t have the amethyst. Then again, neither did Gold Marble as she saw him searching about frantically for it. Breathing softly, she throws her last smoke bomb at him, leaving him blind as she takes off out of the warehouse and back out onto the streets. Fuck that, the crow could have his little purple gem.

Then, just as she felt she had escaped, she sees someone swing into the alley with his tail. Landing in front of her, he chuckles and spreads his arms out wide as a sort of introduction. “I am CIL! The one and only CIL! And I can--” Smiral interjects. “Fuck off.” Brushing past him, she starts walking for the local tavern, only to get smacked across the back of her head by his tail. Turning with her billy club out and heckles raised, she stops as she sees the shining purple gem in his hands... The amethyst. Looking at it with a small smile, she motions in the direction of the tavern. “What do you want you little shit?” CIL shrugs. “An adventure! Fun! And this shiny bobble promises adventure!” Smiral snatches it out of his hands and pockets it. “Yeah. It does. Just don’t say anything stupid and you can stay.” CIL stares at her, his lips twitching as he fought back his own nature, at least for the time, to make a pun.

Still. The two start walking out towards the tavern as they hear one loud shriek of rage echo throughout the entire town. CIL looks back with his eyes wide in fright. “... M-Maybe that was a bit of a bad idea?” He says, his tail quivering as Smiral smacked the back of his head. “No way. This is gonna land me a huge payday... Assuming I can figure out why the Otter wants it so bad.” Her eyes look over the amethyst with intense greed, her grin matching that look in her eyes. “...And if I should charge double...”

---

Back in the Moth Mansion, Idle was having her hand stitched up by her personal doctor. The fox had gray whiskers, a similar vest-shirt combo that most men wore if simply because it stayed out of her way during surgeries. Her needle stitches the wound closed before giving the Moth back her glove. “Here.” Fay says softly, as Idle slowly slips on the white glove to hide the wound. “As always, good work...” Gold Marble returned, growling and frustrated as he was coated in dust with several lumps on his head. “...Now help him... And then, we’re going to send out our personal hitman... Find that little damnable coyote, and find out who hired her... And when I find out...” Her eyes were filled with rage as her hands clench, the stiffness of the new cloth gloves not impeding her whatsoever. “...I will have their heads strewn about my ball room for the guests to use as Tupperware.”[/hider]