(no subject)
Who: Andrew Ryan and boyo Jack. (CLOSED)
What: Jack has a plan to make things right.
Where: Ryan's Place of Solace on the beach.
When: day.
Warnings: violence, eventual character death.
Of all the things that Jack could remember from that ten-year dream, it seemed that one had already come to pass: despite the sight of the lighthouse that still rattled him, coming to the beach was one of the few things that could clear his mind. Right now, he felt he needed a clear mind more than ever.
Ever since that night the man first arrived, Jack hadn't seen a trace of Andrew Ryan in Promenade-none except for his most recent network post, but he knew better than to go anywhere near that. Ryan was gone from the house, but not from the city, and if he knew anything of the man or his paranoia, he knew that by now he would already have himself cloistered away, far from the reach of anyone seeking to end his life. Like Jack.
He hadn't just missed his chance; he'd completely blown it. Andrew Ryan, the king of Rapture, tyrant and murderer, had been just feet away from him, and he... Why couldn't he do it? All he'd have to do was take one swing, just one well-aimed hit, and that man would finally answer for everything he had done...wouldn't he? Even though Atlas wasn't here to see it or hear it for himself, he would finally...
But he blew it. All Ryan had to do was turn a confusing phrase or two and Jack had been left completely powerless, hopelessly intimidated by the man he needed to kill. Why couldn't he take that swing? Why couldn't he dream up a pistol to end it with one squeeze of a trigger? Why couldn't he just...
As Jack looked further down the beach, however, his self-berating gradually faded. There was a building he had never seen before, though the security cameras that monitored its entrance looked terribly familiar.
There was almost no question that Ryan had to be inside. Even if he wasn't, it would be damn irresponsible of Jack not to check. But just like that other night, he found himself completely frozen where he stood.
He had to break in. He had to kill Andrew Ryan. There was definitely no question of that, not even... Even though Atlas wasn't here to guide him-even though Ryan might just come back to life anyway, whether by Vita-Chamber or the Unnatural-even though he had friends here, Xion and Dawn, friends who wouldn't understand why he had to do this, why he had to take a life...
They didn't have to know about this. He didn't need Atlas's help for this. And even if Ryan did come back from this, at least he would know-he would know that Jack would make him pay, no matter how long it took.
He made his approach, careful to stay out of the cameras' field of view. Doubt still hammered at the back of his mind, but that couldn't stop him this time. His wrench was still tucked in one of his back pockets; a loaded pistol came to his hand with a single thought, and he stuffed it into the waistband of his jeans. He would likely need EVE hypos if there were many further security measures beyond those doors, but that would be no problem in a place like this, not when he could dream them up at a moment's notice. As for the cameras-he'd hacked plenty before, but to hack one before the other got him in its sights...
Jack readied a plasmid, wincing as icicles jutted through the flesh of his hand, and waited for his chance; the camera nearest him made its sweep and he darted forward, close enough to blast it with a shot of Winter Blast. Once it was frozen, he dreamed up a hack tool to make quick work of it-but his nerves caused him to fumble, and by the time he got the tool to do its job, the other camera was focused directly on him.
"Shit-" He managed to freeze it before it could set off the alarm, and quickly hacked it before it could thaw, but there was no way it hadn't gotten a shot of his face. It could only be a matter of minutes before Ryan knew he was there; there was no turning back now, and he had to move fast. He reached for his pistol, keeping it at the ready, and made his way through the doors.
What: Jack has a plan to make things right.
Where: Ryan's Place of Solace on the beach.
When: day.
Warnings: violence, eventual character death.
Of all the things that Jack could remember from that ten-year dream, it seemed that one had already come to pass: despite the sight of the lighthouse that still rattled him, coming to the beach was one of the few things that could clear his mind. Right now, he felt he needed a clear mind more than ever.
Ever since that night the man first arrived, Jack hadn't seen a trace of Andrew Ryan in Promenade-none except for his most recent network post, but he knew better than to go anywhere near that. Ryan was gone from the house, but not from the city, and if he knew anything of the man or his paranoia, he knew that by now he would already have himself cloistered away, far from the reach of anyone seeking to end his life. Like Jack.
He hadn't just missed his chance; he'd completely blown it. Andrew Ryan, the king of Rapture, tyrant and murderer, had been just feet away from him, and he... Why couldn't he do it? All he'd have to do was take one swing, just one well-aimed hit, and that man would finally answer for everything he had done...wouldn't he? Even though Atlas wasn't here to see it or hear it for himself, he would finally...
But he blew it. All Ryan had to do was turn a confusing phrase or two and Jack had been left completely powerless, hopelessly intimidated by the man he needed to kill. Why couldn't he take that swing? Why couldn't he dream up a pistol to end it with one squeeze of a trigger? Why couldn't he just...
As Jack looked further down the beach, however, his self-berating gradually faded. There was a building he had never seen before, though the security cameras that monitored its entrance looked terribly familiar.
There was almost no question that Ryan had to be inside. Even if he wasn't, it would be damn irresponsible of Jack not to check. But just like that other night, he found himself completely frozen where he stood.
He had to break in. He had to kill Andrew Ryan. There was definitely no question of that, not even... Even though Atlas wasn't here to guide him-even though Ryan might just come back to life anyway, whether by Vita-Chamber or the Unnatural-even though he had friends here, Xion and Dawn, friends who wouldn't understand why he had to do this, why he had to take a life...
They didn't have to know about this. He didn't need Atlas's help for this. And even if Ryan did come back from this, at least he would know-he would know that Jack would make him pay, no matter how long it took.
He made his approach, careful to stay out of the cameras' field of view. Doubt still hammered at the back of his mind, but that couldn't stop him this time. His wrench was still tucked in one of his back pockets; a loaded pistol came to his hand with a single thought, and he stuffed it into the waistband of his jeans. He would likely need EVE hypos if there were many further security measures beyond those doors, but that would be no problem in a place like this, not when he could dream them up at a moment's notice. As for the cameras-he'd hacked plenty before, but to hack one before the other got him in its sights...
Jack readied a plasmid, wincing as icicles jutted through the flesh of his hand, and waited for his chance; the camera nearest him made its sweep and he darted forward, close enough to blast it with a shot of Winter Blast. Once it was frozen, he dreamed up a hack tool to make quick work of it-but his nerves caused him to fumble, and by the time he got the tool to do its job, the other camera was focused directly on him.
"Shit-" He managed to freeze it before it could set off the alarm, and quickly hacked it before it could thaw, but there was no way it hadn't gotten a shot of his face. It could only be a matter of minutes before Ryan knew he was there; there was no turning back now, and he had to move fast. He reached for his pistol, keeping it at the ready, and made his way through the doors.