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He'd left the apartment locked up, the cats fed, and headed out. He should have been sleeping, but he knew he'd just toss and turn, so he'd headed out to burn off some steam. He'd be tired anyway, he might as well do something with the excess energy.

He wasn't even sure where he was going, or what he planned to do when he got there, he just needed to be moving. After a few blocks, he glanced around, satisfied there was no one close enough to bother with, and powered up. He didn't have to, but he did just because he could. To be faster and stronger and more dangerous.

Partially to see if he could figure out if it was all worth it. He wanted recognition. He wanted to move forward... or did he? Was going Captain even going to begin to be what he was after? What the hell was the next step anyway?

What good was power when you didn't know what to use it for?

It was really sort of sad, or maybe funny, the speed at which one of Realgar's "Deep Mope" sessions could be derailed by something with whiskers, a fluffy tail and retractable claws, and this particular instance, only his second encounter with a Guardian cat (Dahlia being the other) was no exception, although the phrase,

"Holy s**t, there's more of you." might not have sounded quite as flattering as it might have.

He stooped into a crouch, resisting the urge to offer a hand to examine, which he would have done for cats that... well... didn't talk.

The moon on her forehead was a bit of a surprise, since Dahlia had a star, but for all he knew of the breed, Mauvian's could well turn up with Ampersands on their head and he'd think it was normal.

"I've met all of one." He admitted. "Most cat's are one of a Kind, even if they don't talk." He grinned, though he did suspect she meant more than that. "Though in your case that means, what?"

He glanced down at his uniform and back up, with a light shrug as he expained his own somewhat unique attire. He certainly preferred it to some of the uniforms he'd seen, like Wolframite's. Total pass on dressing like little Goth Fauntleroy.

"Racing leathers... for motorcycle racing." He added the second, figuring most people would probably assume he meant car-racing. "Not too shabby a set, but I'm not sure I'd race with them if I -weren't- powered up. Doesn't have the spine guards and stuff the newer sets have., Apparently the Chaos tailors don't keep up with the journals." He paused for a beat and added. "Also no helmet."

Nope, he couldn't say he understood entirely how the uniforms ended up the way he did, half suspecting they were influenced by the subject, but really he didn't know.

"Lieutenant Realgar." He offered, i
n exchange. "...That does sound pretty scifi..." He frowned slightly, putting this together with other tidbits of information. "...Any relation to Dark Mirror?" Dark Moon... Dark Mirror... same initials. Or were there more than one group of cracked out dimensional traveler?

She seemed less obnoxious than that senshi of Burial (even if the coffin trick had been pretty fantastic), or ugh... Remarque.

WELL. Well well well. Wasn't that interesting.

"Wasn't recruited yet during the whole coma thing." He remembered reading about it though, and having kids out of class because of it. "It didn't make a lot of people happy, I'll say that much, but they didn't exactly take a vote. Apparently we're supposed to shut up and be good little soldiers, but I'll be damned if they're not still up to stuff. 'Plans' they won't share." He sounded fairly bitter about this. "Politics are apparently 'be a good attack dog an maybe we'll throw you a bone.'"

That he wanted to see change, one way or another.

In spite of the fact racing leathers tended to be uncomfortably hot, he shivered a little in spite of himself, thinking of the eyes of the victims of ROTA's torture.

"I don't know about the generals but I trust her as far as I can throw her."

Senshi. Not just recruiting children but outright murdering them.

He knew he was being a bit hypocrical, since he would have kicked Camelot in the knee if the man had showed up to pick his brain like this, but instead he folded his feet up underneath him and absently offered ear scritches.

"Order wasn't handing out signup pamphlets." He half joked. "So I either stick it out and hope to get enough rank to fix this s**t, or find out if it's true that the Agents become knights and join a side that recruits kids under ten and is in even worse shape. Fantastic choices."

Not to mention that Zinkenite knew who he was as a civilian, as did a few others. And he knew what happened to the corrupted senshi, like the little dancer he'd gone jogging with, but not what happened to those who were 'purified'. Not that he cared for that term either. People who historically used the word 'pure' used it to cover terrifying atrocities.

...Not that he hadn't done his share, he reflected. The feeling of the first starseeds in his palm would probably never leave him.

Realgar snorted, knowing a little of how Senshi awakened, second hand. "Well someone's waking them up a bit young." He noted, stubbornly against the idea of Chibi senshi. "Also not a kid." He hadn't liked being referred to as such by Camelot either.

"Just going to have to argue that being younger than you doesn't make me less of an adult." He pointed out. "Last lecture I heard on the subject was that we were referring to ourselves as Chaos because they're order, so I guess it's supposed to be ironic."

...It was pretty shitty irony.

"How is my head any more 'messed with' than some twerp in a short skirt and heels?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as he challenged this assertion. (With of course further petting.)

He didn't feel messed with... but then he didn't feel as 'better' as he'd expected to during the sign up spiel either. Stronger yes, but also... angrier, though he excused that as having more things to be angry at.

... She'd actually overshot the Mark(s) by a hair...which was... awkward.
Not that he could blame her, he was pretty sure working the way he did was prematurely aging him. Which arguably was better than waking up part monster, which was apparently a thing, he just wasn't entirely clear how that happened, just that apparently it could, and did.

Also it still wasn't half as awkward as having the cat you were petting turn into a lady and give you return headscritchings. Which he also hadn't known was a thing. AWKWARD. SO VERY. VERY. AWKWARD.

"Twenty six, which in human years still isn't a kid." He managed, though he couldn't imagine his own expression, he was too flustered.

"...It is a stupid reason to call it Chaos." He admitted. It didn't even sound like the sort of thing you put on a recruitment poster. "....Since when do you guys uh..." He pointed vaguely in her direction. "Change shape? Or is that also a limited edition dimensional traveler thing?"

Could DAHLIA do this? Oh Lord...