Disclaimer: I do not own anything in here. Deal with it. If you can't, there are a variety of places from which you can see help.
Hyde A/N: Sorry, I've been so dang busy this should have been started long ago…--is distressed— Well, I won't take forever talking at the beginning because I highly doubt you read this fic just for the illustrious author's notes. :)
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Amon, his headache slightly appeased, sat on a bench protectively keeping the duffel containing the XL orbo gun close by. With some sort of random electronic, high-tech, handheld gadget he looked up the address of Mr. Llama, having forgotten it after having looked it up on his computer earlier.
Ah ha. He picked up the duffel, clutched it protectively (yet macho-ly) at his side, and strode off. He considered going back for his macho black Audi, but decided that if someone got a glimpse he would be too easy to track down. Not everyone, after all, has a macho black Audi, and he was quite sure that at some point he had been mandatorily required to impart to the government the make and description of his car. Governments had a way of inquiring such stupid things. Amon was not on good terms with governments. Governments don't tend to be on good terms with macho, dark, ominous individuals.
As he strolled down the sidewalk, thinking darkly of the Government, he suddenly heard behind him a "yip-yip-yip-yip-yip!" Turning, he observed a small dog belonging to a little old lady. Apparently the dog had severe problems with men on Amon's type. Amon narrowed his eyes and fixed the dog with a particularly strong and venomous Sullen Glare That Cows Immediately All Small Dogs Who Have Irrational Problems With Dark Ominous Individuals.
The dog immediately retreated, whimpering. The old lady, however, did not. She was of the strict opinion that society was much better off without persons of Amon's particular type. She quickly wielded a large mauve umbrella and began beating Amon about the head and shoulders. Amon ducked, flinched, and attempted to protect his duffel. Finally, he gave up protecting his duffel; it was hurting his witch-hunter style. His witch hunting instincts then took over and he grabbed the umbrella in an iron grip, rendering the old lady impotent. He then set off.
Bad idea. The old lady chased him. She managed to get in one final blow before Amon outran her. He ducked in and out of numerous alleys and buildings and finally lost her.
Amon clutched the duffel to his side. That was a close one.
He now proceeded to the residence of Mr. Llama. Upon approaching the house, he pulled a dark mask over his face. Hiding behind the bushes, he took out the XL orbo gun. It gleamed with lethal beauty. He then checked the many pockets of the Bad Black Coat to be sure that he had everything he needed.
Amon crept up to the back door of the house. He unfolded a piece of paper and double-checked a layout of Mr. Llama's house that he had printed off. Having reassured himself that he would not walk into a wall unsuspecting, he attached a small electronic device to Mr. Llama's doorknob. With a muffled click, the door unlocked. Amon then pulled out a small bottle of oil and greased the hinges of the door (he thinks of everything, doesn't he). The door slid open silently, and Amon entered unhindered.
After stepping over the threshold, Amon made an electronic scan to detect security systems. The electronic scanner informed him that the doors and windows would set off an alarm if broken into. Amon, by unlocking the door, had avoided this.
Satisfied there were no other means of intruder alert, Amon instituted his final measure of preparation: donning night-vision goggles. Ready, he proceeded, keeping an eye on the handheld device in his hand.
Unfortunately, the electronic security systems scanner had neglected to inform him of one minor detail: a cat. As Amon walked into the living room he felt something warm and furry land on his head. He impatiently knocked it off, but unfortunately his night-vision goggles went with it.
Muttering an indistinct curse, he dropped to the floor and began searching. Bump. He knocked into a chair. He froze, listening. No sound. He kept feeling the floor. Having no luck, he stood up for a moment and tried to orient himself. As he did, he was startled by something attacking his leg. It yowled and clawed its way higher. Amon desperately whacked at it but the cat was stuck tight. Then, he stepped on something. His ankle went sideways and he fell with a whump to the floor. This, however, dislodged the cat.
Amon lay there for a moment, trying to find out if he was discovered. He heard no movement in the house. He became suddenly aware of something causing an uncomfortable feeling of pain in his left thigh. He rolled off of it and picked it up. His night-vision goggles.
He put them back on quickly and tried to locate the cat. It was nowhere in sight. Cautiously now, he proceeded.
Soon, he arrived at the door to Mr. Llama's bedroom. When the moment was right, he kicked the door.
Unfortunately, Mr. Llama had rather sturdy doors in his house. Amon retreated, nursing his foot. Even macho witch hunters are not impervious to sturdy doors when they impede the kicking feet of said witch hunters. He gave the door a Sullen Glare Which Reduces To Kindling All Doors That Impede The Feet of Dark Ominous Individuals. He then blasted the lock with the XL orbo gun.
He kicked the charred door open and burst into the room with a bang.
It was empty. Mr. Llama wasn't home.
Any other would have felt like an idiot, but Amon's brain did not stand for such emotions. He pumped Mr. Llama's pillow full of orbo, in warning. Snarling, he quickly exited the house, shooting random threatening shots into random walls.
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Short chapter, but I need to get this posted. Too busy and too procrastinative lately. Must…please…fans…must…update…
St Earns: I never thought about Robin getting fire insurance either. I'm sure her rates are very high, unless she conceals the fact that she's a fire-throwing witch.
Yes, heavy orbo artillery, very fun. –evil smile—
CrazyTomboy: Yes, linking is something even the least skilled of computer users can do. Oh shoot, forgot to read the next chapter of In Which Touko Has a Sugar High. –slaps hand on forehead— Sheesh. Well, add to my list of things to do today…
Hunter-Robin: We all feel sorry for Amon when he must run around with a headache and have some blonde have to open it up for him. We just torture him, don't we.
Carri: Yes, he got a drum set. He's not particularly good because he hasn't been playing drum set for too awful long, but he practices almost every day. Not at midnight, thank goodness.
Okay, must go get this posted…
May your walls never randomly decide to go on a chicken hunt,
Hyde