It was still raining as a dark car slowly pulled up in a seedy back-street. A few people hurried past, rushing to get home before the rain dirtied their clothes and faces. There was no movement for a few minutes until the front passenger door opened and a bulky figure stepped out, carrying what seemed to be a small parcel. The rain gave his pale artificial skin a shiny, almost spectral hue as he turned his head this way and then that, before ducking between two buildings and heading up some concrete steps. The car's engine thrummed as it pulled away, vanishing into the darkness at the end of the street.
As the man climbed the steps, his heavy feet should have echoed and reverberated in the narrow space. There was no sound. The man moved as if he were a ghost, the only audible noise was the tinny sound of a beer can as he moved stealthily past and crouched silently beside a metal door. The man sniffed and traced a muscular finger through a thin layer of dirt which had settled on the floor, eventually finding an almost invisible wire which trailed from the door-knob to the frame opposite. It was unbroken, however the man seemed unsatisfied and, pulling a small firearm from underneath his jacket, slowly raised his hand to turn the knob. His muscular hand gently caressed the corroding metal as he felt for the loose flakes which would betray a forced entry.
Finding no such traces of intrusion, the man removed a cardkey from his brown leather jacket and lined it up to a specific spot on the door. A low beep sounded and the hidden locks inside the door disengaged. Producing a handheld mirror from the same pocket, he slid it into the small gap and squinted.
There was a sudden movement. A quick gray shape was reflected in it for a moment before blending in with the gloom.
His breath caught in his throat. The man stiffened and silently counted 5 long seconds in his head, before smashing his foot against the door, almost knocking the reinforced frame from its hinges. The man sprinted into the darkened room, knocking over furniture as he ploughed his way through. He was almost clear when his foot snagged the corner of a reclining chair, bringing the huge man down to the floor with a crash.
"Shit!"
The dust cloud kicked up by the commotion slowly settled down, revealing a bizarre sight: A basset hound who was perched precariously on the back of a cyborg who, by the look (and indeed smell) of things, was covered in moist dog food which had exploded from the grocery bag he'd been clutching to his broad chest.
Batou was home.