03-19-2019, 11:31 PM
Ryker moved swiftly through the house. Power-sharpened gaze swept shadows and corners alike, but it was the front door that was his primary target. When lights flashed outside, reflex flicked his gaze where Boda streaked through the yard. Powers formed another bomb, but before he could hurl it through the window, the cat that just won’t stop pounced.
He dashed aside, flinging bombs in return. Half-formed, they were more like piss-poor fireworks than grenades, but it was all he could do while retreating for cover. Others deflected some of the bullet-paths, spraying rounds into the walls or burying them in cushions of furniture.
Pissed off, Ryker typically found little personal satisfaction in killing combatants, but he would be glad to end this annoying cocksucker as soon as possible.
Pressed to a wall, he was all too aware of the penetrating power of that gunfire and the thinness of Boda’s walls, but the path would be slowed significantly, and hitting body armor would do little more damage than a slap of a hand. The same couldn’t be said if he jumped into the line of fire again. He preferred to not be shot in the head.
With a split-second to think, his second greatest power was conjured. Fire shot across the carpets, blazing all in its path. Smoke immediately obscured his movements, red and orange dancing across his face with hellish shadows. He turned to obliterate the window behind with just as much fanfare as the back door, when he suddenly realized his arm no longer hurt.
The power slipped away like sand through fingers, and anger took its place. He had no time to strike another slash, and he expected the bodyguard to double-back from the fire any moment. A spray of gunfire punched holes through the double-paned windows, and he hurled a chair through the weakened plates in a dazzling spray of shards. Jumping through was little effort, but before running toward the street, he snatched one of the shards and pulled the point across the top of his hand.
The power blazed in glorious return as he raced through the grass.
He dashed aside, flinging bombs in return. Half-formed, they were more like piss-poor fireworks than grenades, but it was all he could do while retreating for cover. Others deflected some of the bullet-paths, spraying rounds into the walls or burying them in cushions of furniture.
Pissed off, Ryker typically found little personal satisfaction in killing combatants, but he would be glad to end this annoying cocksucker as soon as possible.
Pressed to a wall, he was all too aware of the penetrating power of that gunfire and the thinness of Boda’s walls, but the path would be slowed significantly, and hitting body armor would do little more damage than a slap of a hand. The same couldn’t be said if he jumped into the line of fire again. He preferred to not be shot in the head.
With a split-second to think, his second greatest power was conjured. Fire shot across the carpets, blazing all in its path. Smoke immediately obscured his movements, red and orange dancing across his face with hellish shadows. He turned to obliterate the window behind with just as much fanfare as the back door, when he suddenly realized his arm no longer hurt.
The power slipped away like sand through fingers, and anger took its place. He had no time to strike another slash, and he expected the bodyguard to double-back from the fire any moment. A spray of gunfire punched holes through the double-paned windows, and he hurled a chair through the weakened plates in a dazzling spray of shards. Jumping through was little effort, but before running toward the street, he snatched one of the shards and pulled the point across the top of his hand.
The power blazed in glorious return as he raced through the grass.