04-27-2023, 12:19 AM
True to his self-promise, the door alerted him to a delivery just as he was wrapping a towel around his waist. The shower was long and hot and he rubbed out a good wad built up after the last however long he’d been in prison. A giant case of beer had arrived, already chilled, and he hurried to the front door, water still dripping down his back when he opened it.
A delivery woman stood there with a dolly and three big boxes of bottles. She wore tight pants, a button down uniform shirt and a matching cap. Her eyes went a little wide when she realized the occupant was staring at her so immodestly dressed. He felt her eyes stick like a fly on paper to the web of scars that populated half his body.
He’d not even seen a woman the whole time in Butryka.
He reached out to take the handle of the dolly, but she interrupted.
“I have to do it, actually. Liability reasons. Where do you want it?” she pushed the dolly past him.
“Kitchen. Through there,” he pointed and followed.
The space wasn’t large. Ryker honestly spent little time here, but it was where he came to sleep, shower, fuck. The basics. Nor was it particularly rich. He had money, but when he spent it, it wasn’t on decor and fancy appliances.
She was busy moving the boxes off the dolly when he pulled a knife from the butcher block.
The power swarmed her head with the red that bubbled up from his arm. Then all he had to do was stand there as the girl’s face fell blank. On one hand, it was much faster to mind-control her, but on the other, he enjoyed at least a little resistance. Next time. He was feeling impatient.
The first crack of his palm on her skin was satisfactorily loud.
Hours later, he was feeling much more like himself. He might have taken things too far, but she’d not remember anyway. He had to clean up the blood though; not all of it was his.
It was during this time that he contacted HQ for intel on the current situation in the city. Shit must have been boring around Moscow with him off the streets, but the news of Yun Kao’s death stuck out like a bloody thumb.
Who the hell killed her? Now he was intrigued.
The usual contacts filtered out into the void, and soon enough, a message filtered back. He dressed and hurried out to make personal contact. Things were going to get interesting.
A delivery woman stood there with a dolly and three big boxes of bottles. She wore tight pants, a button down uniform shirt and a matching cap. Her eyes went a little wide when she realized the occupant was staring at her so immodestly dressed. He felt her eyes stick like a fly on paper to the web of scars that populated half his body.
He’d not even seen a woman the whole time in Butryka.
He reached out to take the handle of the dolly, but she interrupted.
“I have to do it, actually. Liability reasons. Where do you want it?” she pushed the dolly past him.
“Kitchen. Through there,” he pointed and followed.
The space wasn’t large. Ryker honestly spent little time here, but it was where he came to sleep, shower, fuck. The basics. Nor was it particularly rich. He had money, but when he spent it, it wasn’t on decor and fancy appliances.
She was busy moving the boxes off the dolly when he pulled a knife from the butcher block.
The power swarmed her head with the red that bubbled up from his arm. Then all he had to do was stand there as the girl’s face fell blank. On one hand, it was much faster to mind-control her, but on the other, he enjoyed at least a little resistance. Next time. He was feeling impatient.
The first crack of his palm on her skin was satisfactorily loud.
Hours later, he was feeling much more like himself. He might have taken things too far, but she’d not remember anyway. He had to clean up the blood though; not all of it was his.
It was during this time that he contacted HQ for intel on the current situation in the city. Shit must have been boring around Moscow with him off the streets, but the news of Yun Kao’s death stuck out like a bloody thumb.
Who the hell killed her? Now he was intrigued.
The usual contacts filtered out into the void, and soon enough, a message filtered back. He dressed and hurried out to make personal contact. Things were going to get interesting.