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Thraen had grown to hate parks. The copses of tree and undergrowth, the pave and gravel paths, the useless benches and the intermittent trash cans. They may have once been meant as breathing room of nature in the urban jungle, but as a senshi he'd learned they were just death traps. They were breeding grounds of hostility and anyone who visited them was asking for a target to be painted on their flesh. It didn't matter if that person was a civilian, a senshi, a knight, or a negaverse soldier.

But he felt, as he made his knights rounds, the sure sense of a signature in the park not far from his path. There was a lieutenant. And you will be my prey tonight. You have painted yourself a target.

The eternal senshi ricocheted from buildings to lightposts to the trees, covering ground in rapid succession. His landing to grass was a roll, too little sleep misjudging one on his feet, but he was able to follow with the momentum like a baseball pop-slide. From that he sprinted, boots divoting the grass until the Lieutenant's aura was isolated to a near section of wood overlapping his own. Thraen watched for movement, holding sudden-still and making no sound.


Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight- Counted down the directions of the clock in rapid observation.

There was one very good wager he could make, hearing the distinct sounds of voice and the spliting of wood- Civilians do not travel by tree in the dims of eve. Four o'clock. He sprang to movement again, along the path first until the voice was near, then into the brush.

The lieutenant was in a mass of leaves and branches, dark-clad limbs confused with the thin and broken branches. But the voice, as he was near, and the look of the patch at the pale face were unmistakeable. The Hanged Man.

"Wolframite." It was said soft, rolling the syllables through the natural gravel of Thraen's voice. There was not pleasure or anger in it, only statement of revealed fact.
"You lived after all."

And are General no longer. Bischofite's changes once upon a time come to life anew...so...demotion is a punishment fit and oft employed for those who find themselves on the wrong end of the General Kings. That one that cowed all the Negaverse at the insurgence against the Mirror.

The eternal of gardens slowly walked in the underbrush, making an arc as he placed hand lightly on the flesh of young trees that he passed while taking in the angles of this uniform. New to him, at least.

He would have worn it before. Plenty of bows. "I don't think the fire caught anyone. It was a disappointing failure. "

"But you and I, we have unfinished business of our own, now that is done. "
And I don't recall I've ever seen a lieutenant teleport away from danger, as I have captains and generals. I wonder how true a lieutenant you are. I wonder if help will come when you call, that never comes when I do.

"Enemy, Mine."

"Enjoyment has no bearing on the law. Whether I mind or do not mind the act of killing likewise." Thraen paused in his circumference, finding his feet faced with a path between them with no interruptive bushes or fallen bracken to account for. " Death, between a murder and an execution is what matters. You have tortured and ended many lives in the name of 'Vengeance', itself deplorable. The laws of the state and federal government are both unequipped and unable to deem you justice. The laws of ...society...preservation of it. The laws recognized by the soil we stand on and ostensibly protect. Those with power must do for the law in such stead. "

Thraen started to walk towards the lieutenant, keen for resistance or hidden weapon brought to bear. "Recant. Leave that which sells souls and life itself as chaff wheat to beggars. "

It was a strange, slow dance they stepped. Familiar by now, even to the cadence and music of the so-called insults that were more misunderstanding or blindness that the agent hurled back. Attestations of knowing nothing, or of pride- they were kneejerk and simplistic. So little substance, no proofs to the postulates and viable conclusion to the logic. Just...insults. We've done that all before. I've heard the excuses about 'not leaving'. The name Linarite is new to me.

"It is an old paradox, that all and nothing be simple. It is simple as Conviction. But your choice is made, the offer given. That is enough. Wolframite, nothing is easier than self-delusion. What a man desires is the first thing he believes, and you cloak yourself with injustice, perjury, and treachery...you stand with those who seek pollutions as final issue for the world and claim you cannot 'just leave'. If your reasoning for not doing right is only that it is hard, and that I stand on the side of it, fallen you are in truth."

"I will make it as fast as I am able." Thraen shifted from walk to sprint forward, intent on bringing the smaller youth down.

"You explain continuing to stand by shadows on merit that others also do so? "

Thraen shifted with the directional change, much faster than a lieutenant could. Tracking Wolframite's movement easier, like he was moving through molasses. "Fear binds you all in their grasp. If you stay for others the lot of you should stand together and away from these puppet-shackles: Fear of imprisonment, fear of torture, fear of death, fear of losing friends, family, property or means of livelihood, fear of poverty, fear of isolation, the fear of failure. Shadows laid over you ability to choose, as though the only answer is to persist in their service. It is no excuse or answer, it is just capitulation, Wolframite. "

He gave chase to the smaller form, timing their strides against each other to wager. Then Thraen threw out his arm to catch one of the lithe, black and ribboned limbs. "If you have people you care for, your standing by them in the Negaverse only ensures you all die, rather then freeing those you hold dear. "

I can bring him around off one of the trees. Maybe break it.

Small and fast. Always fast. The other had wisely dropped his weight rather than being swung around with inertia. There was a foot and Wolframite was already running away again into the tree cover. The kick stung, probably enough to leave a bruise on the forearm it had connected to, but no more than that.

Thraen didn't follow into the tree cover. There was a chance of ambush, and his uniform, while it blended with greenery, had too many snag-threats. Not to mention the branching tiara. Too many sleepless nights with the nightmares to be top-game in hunting a dark uniform in the black either. Really, all Wolframite had to do was power down, and then tracking became impossible.

Excuses, excuses. But I don't have Faust with me, and for once its too much to risk. Even to kill a lieutenant. If I couldn't keep a hold of him from a kick with an eternal's strength, there's really no doing much at all. Too far off game.

The Senshi of Gardens turned, leaving dark to dark.