Night 61: Mission #6 [Niikura Shou and Hamato Michelangelo]

[oneman_onekill]

One second he was walking through the door, the next he was standing out in the middle of a field in complete darkness. "Whoa..." Niikura took a step forward, and jumped a little more than he should have when the dirt crunched underneath his boots. It was real--well, duh, of course it was real. Teleportation wasn't one of the things he was accustomed to, though; it had just felt so surreal, watching the landscape change with the blink of an eye. To be honest, it made him feel sort of amateurish, even though he already had every necessary skill to fulfill this mission as quickly and efficiently as possible. Just one little thing, though. Niikura liked having all the possible factors under his control or at least known to him, and that included initial transportation.

But no time to think about that. They had some people to catch. He looked around for the dim shape of his friend. "Mike-san, ya here?" His voice was a quiet hiss. Even though they were a few meters away from the encampment they were supposed to raid, he didn't want to take any risks while the mission was still in its nascent stages. "We, uh..." Niikura looked down at the two guns clenched in his hands. "...oh, that's nice of 'em." One was clearly the tranquilizer gun that the file said would be provided. Two rounds only apiece. One reserve in case they missed. Not...not too bad. It added a little challenge, although he considered himself to be a decent shot on bad days.

The other...he lifted it up so he could examine it a little more closely, and then nearly laughed when he saw the shape. An M29, huh? Now all he had to do was paint "Nyuunanbu" on the barrel and it'd be like a flash from the past, except hopefully, he wouldn't have to use it at all.

He looked back up again. "What'd you get?"

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[hiddenbadass]

Mike smirked in response, but said nothing. Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn't. Either way, he wasn't gonna let Niikura know of his plans. ... Okay, so he was going to just call him Niikura, but that wasn't the point.

He turned and broke into a run, following the teenager as the other humans started chasing them again. Running for his life was something Mike was good at, and he was nearly as good at it as being a ninja. Came with the territory. Actually, technically it didn't, since good ninjas normally didn't need to run for their lives. More like they ran to keep from being discovered or from some bomb they placed. ... Actually, that was still running for his life. Nevermind.

It would've been easy to go full speed, but Mike didn't. Those following them were half-starved. They'd tire out quickly, and then they'd be out of range. Unless they had snipers.

Mike, stop tempting the Turtle Luck, you idiot. Just run.

And so he ran out of the shanty town and into the clearing with his partner in crime.

"Think they're gonna tire soon?" Mike asked, barely sounding out of breath.

It didn't matter what Niikura's response was, because they were going to run anyways. And run they did. The refugees were indeed not healthy, and not quick--slowly, they started to fall behind them. Unfortunately, they were stubborn, and even as they fell behind, they still didn't give up the chase. It was good they were weak so that Mike didn't have to run full tilt--he could pace himself, and he knew Niikura would do the same.

After what seemed like forever, Mike and Niikura outran them all. They kept running, just to be sure. Finally, with burning lungs, Mike leaned forward, his one good hand resting on his knee. It wasn't his age, but the condition of his lungs, that kept him from going further. There was no point in pushing himself worse if they couldn't see anyone else for the moment.

"... Well, that was fun," he rasped out sarcastically. "Let's not do that again, okay?"