Vixen pulled up her velvet cat suit and buckled on her armour, the straps fitting perfectly across her contoured body. Muscles bulged beneath the nap of the fabric; One hundred and seventy pounds of toned muscle. She checked her equipment, dropping each piece into place on her armour as she verified its condition. Smallsword, needlegun, combat blade, knife (ankle holster), palm hooks, throwing discs, spare cartridges, time distortion transmitter, compass and wet-wipes.
She loaded the gun with a clip of soporifics and thumbed the safety catch before replacing it in its holster. Checking her camouflage make up, she headed out of the door to her waiting motorbike and roared into the night heading for Laverstone and her target, Harold Waterman.
After tonight, he would no longer exist.
© Rachel Green 2007