05-24-2018, 06:05 PM
Ryker entered the scanner with barely a second thought. They were ubiquitous upon entering any government building. Subtler versions were housed within the lobby of almost every other building. He had nothing to hide. There were no weapons on his person. The weapon was within.
He had to stop himself from wringing his hands with that thought, however. Without his pocket knife, he felt alone. The power may as well not exist at all for all he could control it otherwise. As the light turned green, an armed guard waved him on through the device, and he told himself there were other ways to inflict pain. Blunt, uncouth ways perhaps. Finding a method to hurt himself without causing serious damage was difficult. Cutting wasn't fun, but it worked. God forbid a doctor discover the scars. They'd call him insane and try to lock him up. It wouldn't go well for anyone involved.
He met the eyes of the next guard in the series. The man held himself like any Red Dog should: these vicious guard-dogs of the Kremlin. They hated the term, Red Dog, for the derogatory undertones. Ryker had no intention of pissing one off, but for all their might, he was confident he could best one if need be, armed or not.
The Kremlin knew exactly who Ryker was, however, and as this Red Dog examined the statement of Ryker's files filling the screen before him, he did as well. When the recognition of Ryker's clearances and operator status arose, the guard asked him to step aside.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mister Petrović." With that, the guard returned his wallet, which Ryker slipped into the slender pocket of his coat. Ryker suppresed an amused smile and made his way into the ball.
He had to stop himself from wringing his hands with that thought, however. Without his pocket knife, he felt alone. The power may as well not exist at all for all he could control it otherwise. As the light turned green, an armed guard waved him on through the device, and he told himself there were other ways to inflict pain. Blunt, uncouth ways perhaps. Finding a method to hurt himself without causing serious damage was difficult. Cutting wasn't fun, but it worked. God forbid a doctor discover the scars. They'd call him insane and try to lock him up. It wouldn't go well for anyone involved.
He met the eyes of the next guard in the series. The man held himself like any Red Dog should: these vicious guard-dogs of the Kremlin. They hated the term, Red Dog, for the derogatory undertones. Ryker had no intention of pissing one off, but for all their might, he was confident he could best one if need be, armed or not.
The Kremlin knew exactly who Ryker was, however, and as this Red Dog examined the statement of Ryker's files filling the screen before him, he did as well. When the recognition of Ryker's clearances and operator status arose, the guard asked him to step aside.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mister Petrović." With that, the guard returned his wallet, which Ryker slipped into the slender pocket of his coat. Ryker suppresed an amused smile and made his way into the ball.