Forty-five uneventful minutes passed after Boda climbed the stairs and anything else happened. Ryker’s original plan was exactly as predicted: breaking and entering, ransack, steal and execute as messily as possible. This was prior to learning a second body occupied the house; the advanced body armor giving away the status of a master. Had he elected a more amateur self-protection system, Ryker would have underestimated the man. Something that might have worked in his favor. Instead, the armor stirred alarms in Ryker’s analytical mind that said go slow. Take care. Study. Plan. Plan again. Plan a third time.. But the meniality of the task was colored a slightly different tint now. A thrill pulsed through his body as it churned gears of thought in his mind. A challenge; not for him, but slightly more than he was expecting.
Boda’s security system was fitted with an exterior camera system like any other house, but standard with his company’s service contract came visible light and infra-red monitoring of the vulnerable points of entry. There were thresholds, of course. Nobody wanted to call the police because the body heat signature of a raccoon was prowling the foundations of the house. Therefore, Boda was careful to maintain his distance well out of range of sensors.
He was set up in the woods behind the house, chosen a knoll behind which to nestle belly-down on the dirt to use the natural earth’s barricade and blunt any infrared sensor that might swing his direction. He hadn’t intended on using a sniper rifle tonight, but sometimes the situation called for adaptation. The scope followed the outline of the second-floor windows. Boda passed multiple times before the glass, but Ryker never fired unless he was certain of the outcome. Windows, walls, vents, attics... In the end, it was the back door that favored his attention.
It required the shedding of his own blood to seize hold of his secret powers. The drawing of a blade over his arm was swift but made him wince with its sharpness. Heat pulsed, his fist clenched, but as soon as it did, that terrible light flooded. The twist of pain and pleasure stretched his skin from the inside until the moment passed to a dull throb. It would last only as long as the pain on his arm persisted. Either the power would drain away, or a new slice required its return.
He used the time wisely. Despite the enhanced vision, his one damaged eye watered the world between acuity and blindness. A moment of sea-sickness swarmed his brain until it settled with practiced focus on his normal eye. Maybe a minute or two passed, and the loss of his formerly perfected aim was a handicap only barely made up by his powers. Between the scope and the heightened vision of the world of the light, two little ropes dug into the handle of the back door. Metal and electricity vibrated between himself and the connection, and he dug further like twisting the knife plunged into someone’s chest. It was blunt. He couldn't differentiate the details of the internal mechanisms only that it existed and desired to overwhelm it from within. Two small sparks illuminated his success at disabling the locking mechanism, but rather than rush forward to breech the door, he remained where he was: belly down, scope to the eye, finger at the ready to fire the 40 yards between himself and whomever may appear. It took the entirety of his focus to aim, but the rage of his injuries were ignored; the associated tension would change his accuracy. An odd dichotomy; forcing himself into perfect calm while a storm of the power warred within.
Come out, come out wherever you are.
Boda’s security system was fitted with an exterior camera system like any other house, but standard with his company’s service contract came visible light and infra-red monitoring of the vulnerable points of entry. There were thresholds, of course. Nobody wanted to call the police because the body heat signature of a raccoon was prowling the foundations of the house. Therefore, Boda was careful to maintain his distance well out of range of sensors.
He was set up in the woods behind the house, chosen a knoll behind which to nestle belly-down on the dirt to use the natural earth’s barricade and blunt any infrared sensor that might swing his direction. He hadn’t intended on using a sniper rifle tonight, but sometimes the situation called for adaptation. The scope followed the outline of the second-floor windows. Boda passed multiple times before the glass, but Ryker never fired unless he was certain of the outcome. Windows, walls, vents, attics... In the end, it was the back door that favored his attention.
It required the shedding of his own blood to seize hold of his secret powers. The drawing of a blade over his arm was swift but made him wince with its sharpness. Heat pulsed, his fist clenched, but as soon as it did, that terrible light flooded. The twist of pain and pleasure stretched his skin from the inside until the moment passed to a dull throb. It would last only as long as the pain on his arm persisted. Either the power would drain away, or a new slice required its return.
He used the time wisely. Despite the enhanced vision, his one damaged eye watered the world between acuity and blindness. A moment of sea-sickness swarmed his brain until it settled with practiced focus on his normal eye. Maybe a minute or two passed, and the loss of his formerly perfected aim was a handicap only barely made up by his powers. Between the scope and the heightened vision of the world of the light, two little ropes dug into the handle of the back door. Metal and electricity vibrated between himself and the connection, and he dug further like twisting the knife plunged into someone’s chest. It was blunt. He couldn't differentiate the details of the internal mechanisms only that it existed and desired to overwhelm it from within. Two small sparks illuminated his success at disabling the locking mechanism, but rather than rush forward to breech the door, he remained where he was: belly down, scope to the eye, finger at the ready to fire the 40 yards between himself and whomever may appear. It took the entirety of his focus to aim, but the rage of his injuries were ignored; the associated tension would change his accuracy. An odd dichotomy; forcing himself into perfect calm while a storm of the power warred within.
Come out, come out wherever you are.