So, this is my first fanfic in a very long time. I've been brewing this one for a while, I just haven't had a chance to capture it in words until now. But I'm back in the fanfic saddle once again and I'm looking forward to seeing how this one works out. I'm breaking from my normal approach and I'm posting as I write. So there may be some short gaps between updates but if you like what you read, then please review.
Prologue
He had been right to change the game. Of that he was certain. Still, he was increasingly troubled by the added danger of his recent actions, danger he'd caused by breaking the rules that had long kept him safe. Nevertheless, this new game simply felt …. right.
He stood, motionless, slowing his breathing as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Gradually he began to discern dim shapes across the room: refrigerator, stove, sink, a stack of mail on the worktop. On the other side of the room sat a six-seater dining table surrounded by leather covered seats. Smells wafted through the air. The aroma of stale Chinese take-out. A hint of detergent. The smell of perfume.
Her scent.
Outside, a breeze stirred in the night. A tree branch rubbed against the guttering, creating a grating sound. Upstairs, a sudden creak.
He froze, his senses straining.
Someone getting up?
Another creak.
He waited, palms slippery inside the latex gloves.
Silence.
He relaxed his grip on the pistol. He crept to the kitchen worktop and set his knapsack on the maple surface. He wanted to make one last check to confirm he had packed everything he needed. With growing excitement, he retrieved the liquid-filled syringe and removed the protective cover. He reshouldered his knapsack and eased through the living room to the front of the house. There, a staircase led to the second floor.
Now?
Not yet. Give it a few more minutes.
Better safe than sorry.
He forced himself to wait on the bottom tread, a delightful pressure building within. He pictured the woman as he had last seen her, long limbed and tanned, a youthful energy punctuating her every movement.
In the rooms above, she slept alone, unaware she was about to embark on the most intense journey of her otherwise insipid existence.
A moment later he started up the stairs.