It was the dwindling hours of the day...twilight to be exact. The clouds aligned perfectly across the horizon, creating a spectrum of radiant colors created by the fading light of the sun. It wasn't the most pleasant hour of the day, it was one he would not forget no matter how he tried. The hour was a birth of remembrance and the embrace of death for his unsuspecting victim. Whether it was loving or dreadful it all depended on the person in their fleeting seconds of life.
For a while he remained stagnant with his position on the rooftop overhead. Watchful eyes calculated this man to the finest point, taking in every weapon, every movement, and even body language to get the greatest edge over the man. Could he be numb of mind? It would all be unraveled soon enough, the truth would be exposed.
Imperceptibly he inched his way towards the edge of the rooftop, keeping the poise of his crouched position as he looked down upon his target. He was like a lion hunting its prey, taking heed to the slightest of its movements to make sure it would not be startled and scared away. Neither enjoyed it when their prey ran, it gave it less zest and often caused more annoyance than satisfaction. The true hunt was being able to stalk down prey without giving away position.
As soon as the man turned his back to Baratta, he lept from the rooftop. Landing with a soft patter of steps he found himself in a crouched position to best soften the landing. Without breaking stride, he pushed forward in a quick patter of footsteps, his right hand reached down to the hilt of his katana. In one fluid motion he withdrew the lengthy blade from its confines and brought it off to his side slightly. Upon reaching the man, his left arm hooked around his body, pulling him up tightly against his frame to hold him fast as the right arm brought itself inwards.
Placing the blade against the man's throat, he took one swift motion inwards and off to the side. It was all over, not a single word uttered for it was far too late for anything of the sort. Holding the limp body with his left arm, he drug it into the nearby alley and placed him on the ground and propping him up against the wall. He figured to the average eye the man would appear to be some drunk bum merely passed out from a nightly bender, which wasn't too uncommon around these streets. The only way to tell that the man was murdered would be to try and wake him from his 'drunken slumber.' Then and only then would they realize the horrible truth that he was just another victim of the rogues.
Sure, he couldn't be classified with the low breed dogs such as rogues and bandits, but he was almost certain that they would consider this murder a fault of that. Slinking out from the alleyway, his eyes cautiously slid across the area, scanning for any signs of human life. He wasn't afraid of being discovered, but moreso about someone else getting the drop on him instead. That was something he didn't like, not in the least. Again his eyes studied the surroundings, trying to take in account every single bit of information they could.
Suddenly they snapped towards the slight glint of light that reflected off the metal of a blade. Indeed they were coming, the guards had caught wind of his presence somehow, someway. Swiftly his eyes broke away from the approaching guards and to the darkened surroundings behind them, noticing a small shifty eyed man dressed in a black cloak. Cursing under his breath, his eyes fixated themselves back upon the guards as they approached him. Their shouts could be heard all throughout the city, trying to alert all they could about this lone man, but it would prove pitiful.
Sheathing his blade, he awaited the first of their attacks to try and opprehend him. Sure enough the first was easy to guess, a straight clean cut from above the head and downwards. Pushing back swiftly, he jolted backwards in a run that could nearly match the forward run of the guards. Idly he watched the blades fail in their course towards him, occassionally having to shift his body to avoid a few.
It grew all too common of a routine, but it paid well in the end. It came half first and half later, that's how he worked through these areas and no one dared to stiff him if they knew what was good for them. He did have a few attempts at his life, but many failed while others got close, but it was nothing to worry about. The one's who got close were the select few who knew what they were doing, but the very select few they were.
Baratta's eyes drifted lackadaisically across the three guards that tried to continue their assault against him. Deciding to put an end to this foolishness, his head turned to the right, casting his gaze over his shoulder and behind him. There he noticed that he was approaching upon a fruit stand that lined the edge of the streets. Turning around without breaking stride he kicked up his pace, finally now breaking away from the guards as he closed the gap on the fruit cart. Planting both of his feet firmly upon the ground he brought himself to a complete stop, his knees bending at the joint before pushing off, his body throwing itself forward and into a 180 degree rotation during the flip over the cart. As he landed, his hands instinctively moved to the handle of the cart and forced it upwards, allowing the cart to dump out its random assortments of oranges, mangos and grapefruits. The guards stumbled across the objects and toppled to the ground in three seperate heaps.
With a click of his tongue a smug grin slid across his features, as he muttered a word, “Bingo.” With that he turned and broke off into another sprint, winding this way and that down the town roads until finally ducking off into an alleyway. Glancing around cautiously, he found no presence whatsoever, which was just fine by him. Exhaustedly he leaned back into the wall, letting his back press against the cool brick of the building behind him. His chest heaved and his heart pounded, as he thought back on the whole incident. This man would owe him big for this, this almost seemed like a set up, like someone knew he was gonna strike and tipped off the guards. He didn't like this, not in the least, but he would get to the bottom of it later, much later.