09-10-2018, 12:22 AM
He dressed for the event. Nothing like the black and white sported at that fucking ball, but well enough to slip beside the ringleaders of industry and overlords of the illicit. Almaz hadn’t the honor of Ryker Petrovic’s presence since before San Quentin. Before the meltdown. Before the betrayal. Beneath a dark suit was a black button-down shirt and black tie. None would know but him, but Ryker took the extra precaution of wearing a molded, second-skin body armor as well. The thin weave could diffuse the kinetic punch to the gut and only the hardest of fists would leave a bruise. He didn’t intend on entering the ring himself, but in Almaz, who knew what kind of shit might go down. You didn’t need a cage to find yourself in a fight.
He wasn’t the only one wearing black on black. In a place that attracted the sadistic of the most wealthy sort, the morbid scheme was a semi-favored combination. The difference was Ryker was the only one that didn’t give a fuck about impressing the assholes around him. The door-meat took one look at him, and the scars stretched uncomfortably across his face, and turned him away.
He offered them the opportunity to check his ID. Amusement rippled beneath those pink webs when the scan flashed approval.
Before plunging into the hole that was Almaz’s entrance, he swiped another ID into the man’s system. “My guest tonight.” Ivan’s information was processed. Ryker trusted he’d encounter no resistance.
The grim, empty, industrial exterior gave way soon to a world sound-proofed to that above. Lasers colored the walls. Music thumped in his head. Ryker paused on the threshold, counting heads and body language as second-nature as breathing.
A hellish home he embraced with open arms. The circulation of underground air. The roars feasting on violence. The glitter of viperous eyes. The taunt of frenzy impending.
God it was great to be home.
He wasn’t the only one wearing black on black. In a place that attracted the sadistic of the most wealthy sort, the morbid scheme was a semi-favored combination. The difference was Ryker was the only one that didn’t give a fuck about impressing the assholes around him. The door-meat took one look at him, and the scars stretched uncomfortably across his face, and turned him away.
He offered them the opportunity to check his ID. Amusement rippled beneath those pink webs when the scan flashed approval.
Before plunging into the hole that was Almaz’s entrance, he swiped another ID into the man’s system. “My guest tonight.” Ivan’s information was processed. Ryker trusted he’d encounter no resistance.
The grim, empty, industrial exterior gave way soon to a world sound-proofed to that above. Lasers colored the walls. Music thumped in his head. Ryker paused on the threshold, counting heads and body language as second-nature as breathing.
A hellish home he embraced with open arms. The circulation of underground air. The roars feasting on violence. The glitter of viperous eyes. The taunt of frenzy impending.
God it was great to be home.