BLACK INK SOCIETY {Sci-Fi Thriller} #Wattys2016

Part 11,1 - Prison Break [1]

How did he get himself into this?

Lupin had no answer to this question, which he was asking far too frequently these days. What he did have, however, was a distinct explanation: He had nothing better to do. And since this walking insurance nightmare who called herself Irene Adler had politely requested his participation in the biggest heist in the recorded history of the Black Ink Society - well, it would have been rude to decline, wouldn't it.

I'm a coward, I'm a dazzler, I'm a cheat. Why didn't he drop out, as Dante suggested? It's what I do, and I have been perfectly fine with it for all my life.

It was not a logical decision. It was one of these things that just felt right. Call it whatever you like, Lupin thought, Intuition, destiny, a moral compass that I curiously do seem to posess...  as a matter of fact, the master thief, Sherlock Holmes of the dark side, was steering into dangerous waters.

The row house complex on Hastwood Road was a fortress. It might not have been visible from the outside, but underneath the bourgeois facade lay three floors of high-security military zone.
Mr. and Mrs. Smith were well-equipped indeed, Lupin thought as he slowed down the stolen motorbike, his associates following closely behind. What he had seen in Eugene Nnamani's concepts deeply unsettled him.

They came to a halt on a deserted car park not far from their desired location. Only a couple of flickering street lamps provided a weird, eerie light that set the mood for the very weird plan they were going to engage in.

"I can't believe you want to go through with this. There are only two ways in, one is a heavily armed front door guarded twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The other is a supply shaft used for restock about half a mile apart from the actual facility." Nnamani pointed to a thin line that lead diagonally towards the second floor.

"So this is where we're going to strike?" Dante wanted to know.

Eugene sighed. "No. There is a major hitch to this second option - heat detectors."

"No." Lupin shook his head with determination. "I am not doing this again."

Eugene just glared at him. "Don't you understand? The supply shaft is prepared for infiltration attempts. The spies have watched spy movies. You cannnot use the shaft, it's impossible."

"Then, given we break cliché, what door do you suggest we use?" Irene enquired.

Her friend gave a faint smile. "What door does Father Christmas use?"

Scurrying through the nightly forest like an especially intelligent racoon, Lupin made more headway than he had expected to. His track shoes only produced minimal sounds; he had made some changes to the soles, so the flexible material would adjust to the rough ground, making it nearly unhearable. And although they could certainly decieve human ears, the sensors surrounding the area would not be quite as easy to trick.

He could hear Irene's voice from the earpiece, distant and distorted.

"You are about to enter the jamming zone," she informed him, "Nothing works in there except for custom-adjusted comlinks. Just to be clear on this...."

"Yes?" He jumped over a branch. Nightglasses dyed his surroundings in a surreal shade of blue, every shadow distinct, every obstacle sharply visible.

She exhaled subtly. "I cannot help you in there."

Lupin nodded, oblivious to the fact that Irene couldn't see him. "I know." He fastened his pace, dodging trees and hanging branches. The static from his earpice grew more intensive.