Megadon glanced down at the puff of white in his hand.  Such a tiny thing!  But the success of the mission depended on his size.  If all went well, the Farmland would be in their possession by dawn--without any deaths.  Megadon would not tolerate anymore losses of his legionnaires.  And if this worked, Megadon would have to treat this little puffball to all the mice he could eat.

"So, White Death, do you understand what you are to do?" Megadon looked him in the eye.

"Yes, Megadon, Sir,"  White Death purred.  " I will sneak through the power grid in to the farmhouse, and slit the throats of all the occupants.  Then I will climb onto a windowsill in front, signaling you that the power grid has been taken down and that it is safe for you all to fly into the Farmland.  Soon, we will have ample food supply."

"And you, my friend, shall have all the mice you can eat -- if you succeed."

White Death licked his lips.  "If I don't, I will have 8 more chances."

And with that, White Death jumped down to the ground, and began his trek through the interlaced power grid.  Nimbly, White Death weaved in and out of the grid, careful not to set off any alarms. 

Yes,  Megadon could taste victory coming soon.