About an hour later Cylrae was silently watching the nondescript home from the upper branches of a tree. The razor sharp fingertips of her gauntlets dug into the bark of the tree as she waited with deadly patience. She had darkened the upper part of her face with makeup. The lower half was covered by a cloth mask. Her normally dark crimson red cloak had been exchanged for a gray one. Not black. The contrast against lighter surfaces would be too visible.

There were no guards. No defense system she could detect. Clearly this man felt his secret was well and truly hidden. The idiot didn't even have dogs.

Once she was certain nobody would be going in our out for awhile, she lept down from the treetop. She reduced the impact of her fall by grabbing onto a lower branch, swinging over it, then letting herself dangle for a couple seconds before she dropped silently to the ground.

Her head tilted as she paused to listen. Hearing nothing unusual, she carefully crept up to the house until she was able to flatten her back against the wall. She could hear the sounds of men talking and laughing inside.

She slid along until she was near a window. Her body twisted until she was able to peek inside with one eye. She counted four men. They were drinking. Judging from how loudly they were laughing, they had been drinking heavily, and for quite some time.

She slowly slid back away from the window and glanced toward the back of the house. She spared one more glance to the window she had just looked through before she lowered herself further and quickly made her way behind the building.

The back yard was just as boring as the front. A few trees. Grass. Some bushes lined the perimeter. Such a nice and normal looking home. Cylrae's eyes swept over the surrounding homes, briefly wondering if the neighbors had any clue about the monster in their midst.

She pushed the wayward thoughts aside as she looked back to the task at hand. There was a back door, of course. She tested it, just in case. Nope. Locked. So her options were either picking the lock, which might take too long. Or she could try to find a window she could slide into.

She opted to try the windows first. She was in luck. Three windows down beyond the back door she found one that wasn't locked. She peered into the dark room to make sure nothing was waiting for her before she continued to slide the window open slowly. Once she had enough room, she lifted herself up and slid in through the window.

"What the HELL Man!"

Blondy was starting to squeeze off another round. Before that finger could finish pulling the trigger, Cylrae moved in and sliced upward with her hand. Those razor sharp fingertips sliced through flesh, tendon, and muscle at the crook of his elbow. The gun fell to the ground, firing off a shot that went into the nearby wall.

She didn't wait to see what happened after that first slice. She swiped again for the other arm, and then swept out a leg to drop him to the floor. His head bounced off the floor once before she was over him, holding him by his throat. Her voice was extremely calm, like she was asking about the weather.

"Where is she?"

"Who' I don't know what you're talking about, you crazy bitch!"

She slammed his head into the floor once more. "I said, where is she?"

"Ow! Fine! The slut is in the basement. Won't get much out of her if you're looking to sell her."

Cylrae merely quirked an eyebrow before another dagger was pulled from the row along her thigh. This one was plunged into his ankle and embedded into the floor.

"Stay." She commanded even as he screamed out in pain.

It didn't take her long to find the door that led to the basement. She paused for only a moment to ensure there were no unpleasant surprises. Then she silently descended. She only got halfway down before she found the woman she had been sent to find and save.

A young woman, wearing little more than rags, was laying on a pile of straw. Her whole body was covered in bruises, cuts, and scrapes. The entire left side of her face was purple and swollen so badly she couldn't open that eye. She was entirely too thin and looked too weak to even stand, let alone try to break free from the iron shackle that was locked about one ankle, chaining her to the floor.

Were it not for the slow turning of her head to see who was coming down, Cylrae might have questioned if she was alive. When the one eye that wasn't swollen shut looked toward the stairs, she could see the fear.

She didn't finish that descent. Not yet. Instead she turned and headed back up the stairs, her kaleidoscope eyes red with rage.