02-26-2023, 08:40 PM
Ryker stifled a groan of annoyance and climbed to his feet. On one hand, getting the chance to see a different hallway than the same old four walls was a nice change of scenery. On the other, his legs were lead and fuck whatever Marcus wanted. Yet Ryker followed along, daring the guards they passed to question the politician pulling the lead of this invisible leash. None did. The pussies. But it told him more about Marcus’ standing in things. They knew something about the politician Ryker didn't, and it fucking irritated him.
The operator showed them to a stairwell. Rumors and whispers spread like horror stories through the block. Not even the most stalwart of gulag guards would take it anymore, opting for other passageways. Ryker swept the view up and down with a studious gaze, curious as much as wary, but his attention wasn't on ghost stories. He craned his neck upward. If he could get to the roof, he had a chance. The ground level was worthless. Not at 45 Novoslobodskaya Street. He’d be shot before getting across the yard. Their perimeter was too perfect. Impenetrable. Up, out and over was his only chance, but Marcus was a channeler and Ryker’s power was under lock and key. He had nothing on his person to cut himself, but he could pick a fight with the guard. One smack of the baton would probably do it. But Ryker was barely upright. His chances were slim, and the baton might actually knock him out. Besides, it seemed Marcus was about to pull him out of the detention center. He just needed to play the good, pliant operator a little longer.
He sighed when Marcus beckoned them to descend. For one, it was the wrong fucking direction than Ryker wanted to go, and for another, he had little desire to confront whatever was gobbling up the guards every time the lights went out.
The operator showed them to a stairwell. Rumors and whispers spread like horror stories through the block. Not even the most stalwart of gulag guards would take it anymore, opting for other passageways. Ryker swept the view up and down with a studious gaze, curious as much as wary, but his attention wasn't on ghost stories. He craned his neck upward. If he could get to the roof, he had a chance. The ground level was worthless. Not at 45 Novoslobodskaya Street. He’d be shot before getting across the yard. Their perimeter was too perfect. Impenetrable. Up, out and over was his only chance, but Marcus was a channeler and Ryker’s power was under lock and key. He had nothing on his person to cut himself, but he could pick a fight with the guard. One smack of the baton would probably do it. But Ryker was barely upright. His chances were slim, and the baton might actually knock him out. Besides, it seemed Marcus was about to pull him out of the detention center. He just needed to play the good, pliant operator a little longer.
He sighed when Marcus beckoned them to descend. For one, it was the wrong fucking direction than Ryker wanted to go, and for another, he had little desire to confront whatever was gobbling up the guards every time the lights went out.