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 Posted: Sat Jul 04, 2015 9:14 pm
His research revealed that taking breaks from longstanding endeavors generally produced better results, so Umber took the night off from pouring over books and notes. The cool evening called, where he might incidentally gather more fodder for his search, but he tried to brush that notion from mind. Instead he focused on the light breeze that swept across the city, ruffled leaves, and tossed hair while he ventured between rooftops. Trash swirled aimlessly beneath as he leapt between buildings. Stints of sprinting and self-paced trials left him a veritable hour away from his home, taking into account a captain's strength and speed.
There were fragments of the city that tapered down from commercial, into small pockets of residential parks and schools. He knew he neared one of the areas by one of the newly-installed signs that mounted above the typical street notifications, which pointed somewhere to the east with mention of Meadowview High School. Umber cared little for heading in its direction, so he continued straight on his path, now at ground level, and allowed his fingers to catch lightly on the chain link that traced the back of someone's yard. The thrumming felt painful, yet grounding, as he struggled to avoid the subject of behavioral reconditioning.
Soon, a distraction presented itself - a super senshi by feel, still some distance beyond him. While he made no explicit attempt toward the individual, Umber's path carried him in their direction. He guessed that they lingered in the park, based on proximity and direction. So he maintained his dutiful pace and soon followed out the rest of the sidewalk, where it dropped into a side street and allowed for a dulled out crosswalk for legality purposes. He crossed, and soon found himself within the park itself.
Initially, he found nothing - only the night fauna chided him for wandering into such a place. The trees whispered and covered any sounds that eased his tracking. The ground remained hard after a few days without rain, which limited his tracking capabilities.
So instead he slowed as he approached a walking trail, and relinquished his attentions to the aura sensing abilities that came with powered life. She was close, certainly, perhaps not more than fifty feet from him. And if his years of hunting provided any edge in this conflict, then he may yet get the jump on her.
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Posted: Sat Jul 04, 2015 11:27 pm
If she had been doing better -- perhaps better, perhaps anything different -- Warhol would have noticed the captain's aura. After all, that's what she was good for, wasn't she? Good at sensing auras, good at differentiating, good at being a reasonable Senshi and not falling apart. What good was her power over Moods if she couldn't keep her own under control?
She hadn't even been out for almost a month; she'd met a cat, it'd empowered her pen, and then Warhol had left and not touched anything remotely magical for three weeks. The Lieutenant was still in her brain, hand in a schoolgirl's chest, and the feel of the starseed on her hands -- the sound of something breaking, the lieutenant going still -- every time she thought about those she wanted to vomit. So she didn't, for the most part. (For the most part. Looking at her henshin pen made her chest tight and a knot tighten itself in her throat, but. But three weeks of that hurt. She wanted to be back in the more comfortable skin, and now she is, and it feels so much better. She doesn't need to worry about civilian issues like this.)
Warhol didn't notice Umber's aura at all. She can't focus on that. Doesn't want to focus on that. So instead she just sat, legs dangling, off of the bathroom roof: it was nice, up here. A nice breeze. She knew she wasn't yet used to the enhanced abilities that came with the powerup -- but this wasn't the situation.
At least her boots were nice. She liked these boots.Strickenized nah man it's fine!! warhol is VERY STUBBORNLY not paying attention to auras because she is v. frazzled.
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Posted: Mon Jul 06, 2015 5:29 pm
The signature did not move, and for a time, neither did he. Umber weighed the potential hazards in pursuing the aura in the interim, trying to evaluate if this person simply sat around, if they cast surveillance, or stood as a luring beacon for some kind of ambush. He considered summoning his communications crystal to notify someone of his intention before venturing forth, or asking for a partner in investigations. But considering how uniquely rare it was to get ahold of another officer...
The captain started through the spidering veins of the city, the sidewalks that crawled throughout a surfeit of buildings. He followed his intuition, close as it was, and found his venture unduly quick before he nearly stood upon the location. He peeked out from behind a retaining wall to survey the general direction of the aura and found nothing to indicate an ambush. The lone signature certainly felt him by now as it should have before; was this person not alarmed by the presence of a Negaverse captain? Had their experiences with the dregs of the organization taught them to simply ignore the force? Umber couldn't guess.
Instead he approached at purposeful walk, beyond the wall and across the dirt until he stood near to the super's position, looking upward. He saw, from his angle, mostly just boots and calves. Neither seemed intent to move with an officer upon them.
Finally he leapt to roof and found himself facing perpendicular to the one he felt a stretch away. She looked familiar, but not entirely so - he knew her as Warhol, the senshi who claimed to have killed a captain. Now she stood as a super senshi by feel, and her fuku changed from memory to support this ascertation, and he wondered if this upgrade was due to that murder. "I see no one has thought to dispatch you yet, Warhol." A shame, in truth - the Negaverse needn't corroborate her claim toward murder. The fact that she asserts it is enough of an affront to the organization to invoke corrective action. Or he would assume so - currently, his opinion of its workings was not high.
Umber approached at a walk. His hands remained folded over chest in an experimentally disarming manner. "Were you rewarded for your kill?"
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Posted: Tue Jul 07, 2015 12:22 pm
Warhol stayed facing away from Umber, giving no recognition of his presence or his (now-stronger) aura even after he spoke - she couldn't...she couldn't look at him. Not then. She was so tired. But 'were you rewarded for your kill?' was the tipping point, there; she turned, fists clenched and eyes fear-wide, and looked him straight in the eyes with fear and hatred.
Her legs thumped the side of the roof in anxious movement.
"...what's it to you? I'm not going to tell you that." It all came out in a sullen mumble. "This is a war. We all kill. It doesn't matter if this -" she gestured to her fuku, white and red and gold - "is a reward or anything." Warhol's hands fussed with her ribbons, twisting, fisting into knots unconsciously and making her knuckles white with force.
"...just leave me alone, please."
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Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2015 6:47 am
"If it didn't answer, I would not ask." He wondered how often she encountered others who spoke empty phrases, who chattered only to hear the silence banished for a time. He wondered if others only spoke worthless nothings around her. Umber approached despite being bidden otherwise. His footsteps sounded clear against the faint backdrop of traffic. Sometimes the opposing streetlight reflected off Warhol's face in tides of red.
"And I won't ask twice."
Her reaction suggested flight more than fight so he took his chances in approach. His position felt favorable - approaching her behind left her far less room to work with in a straight fight. Studded knuckles materialized over the backs of his hands at command, weighing just enough to confirm their presence. He didn't anticipate using them, but their added ambience discouraged a fight. And what of her magic? 'Warhol Mood Reversal' coupled with his sudden shift to apathy last time suggested enough. Words alone suggested that his mood be reversed somehow, and while he could not guess how it determines the shifted mood, he could guess a few opposites to prepare for if he encountered her attack again.
But as a Super... He banished the thought. He could not waste time on suppositions and predictions when all proved baseless conjecture.
The captain came to a stop a few feet away from her. His arms raised enough to imitate fighting posture while one leg remained behind and perpendicular to the leading foot. If she retaliated, he would be prepared - but otherwise he would hold the position. Information took precedent.
He needed to know if anyone else died by her hand.
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Posted: Wed Jul 08, 2015 1:07 pm
With the red light reflecting off her face, Warhol didn't look like any kind of warrior - she looked like what she, in fact, was: a scared teenage girl. It just highlighted the dark circles under her eyes, the way her eyes kept shifting from Umber to anything else like a trapped animal: it did nothing good for her appearance.
With every step Umber took closer, Warhol's throat closed up more and more, like a knot that wouldn't leave her alone - it hurt, a little, but that was probably anxiety and fear. She had never thought too hard about that, and she never planned to. So she took a deep breath; and she'd been about to say something brave, she really had, but --
"I've killed two of you Nega-creeps! Why won't you just leave me alone?!"
The words came out in rage and fear, and Warhol choked on her own breath immediately after -- and then she promptly turned to run, springing to her feet and taking off fast as could be, jumping from the roof to the ground and going as speedily as she could. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here.
She had to be anywhere but here.
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2015 2:01 pm
"Two." The word was spoken at conversational tone, with no emotion to color it other than an unusual calmness.
Two murdered if I take her at her word. There's no reason against it - taking liars seriously silences the lies regardless if appropriate action is taking. Assuming she's truthful, she's taken two lives and gained a rank. This should be ni-
His thoughts were interrupted by her beleaguered plea for solitude and subsequent takeoff, to which Umber was left no choice but to pursue. Veritably growing up in the forest combined with urban exploration attempts left him well-versed in descending from buildings and pursuing at length, so he followed after her almost immediately. Umber wanted the names of these purportedly dead officers, so he might check for them against the database. He wanted to confirm whether they truly died. He wanted to know if assertions of murder were now tactics used by the enemy to scarer and deter other officers who were predisposed to take someone at their word.
But as their borderline conversation devolved into a chase, all such options vanished from his grasp. Her emotional state left him with no means to procure answers, and she likely didn't take names to begin with. He expected, then, that she must've killed on impulse if she killed at all. It frustrated him to think that there wouldn't be any answers to corroborate her stories, and there would never be evidence toward it, and above all, a seething fury with himself that he could not take the death of his comrades as a personally empowering event - that he considered their deaths to this teenage girl an expenditure that was likely their fault for underestimation.
Compassion did not lie in his heart.
Being a hunter left him a naturally athletic disposition, which provided commendable speed on a straightaway. He pursued with the intent to take her down, to slip within arm's reach and halt her progress enough to tackle her to the ground.
If she was going to make these assertions, then she would face consequences without falter.
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Posted: Thu Jul 09, 2015 5:57 pm
Umber would have caught Warhol in any case -- their comparative levels of physical fitness left no room for variation, but being that she hadn't powered up in nearly a month, the trace unfamiliarity with the added strength (especially since she was a Super Senshi now -- stronger, faster) left her clumsy. She didn't know the weight of this fuku, this was only her second time out in it, really; and The Captain hit her from behind, and Warhol tumbled, her elbows smashing into the ground barely fast enough to prevent a facial wipeout. (That was going to sting, later. It already stung now -- but she barely noticed, high on adrenaline and fear.) She skidded for a foot or two, shaking with the added weight of Umber, packed ground scraping her elbows - and then tried to turn over and push him off, wild-eyed and terrified, not even thinking straight enough to use her magic -- and then she was, quick enough. Warhol didn't know what her new magic was, and she didn't want to, so all she did was call out "Warhol Mood Reversal" in a whisper - pull her hands up to her chest, push the magic at the Captain, and try to struggle out from beneath. She also tried to knee him in the crotch, because hey, take the opportunities you can. Strickenized na na na: twenty seconds mood flip, first-level magic, can be instantly shaken off if someone realizes they've had their emotions altered and doesn't like it
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Posted: Fri Jul 10, 2015 5:48 pm
Even if her physical struggles amounted to little, the appearance of the green globe from before was enough repellant to force the captain off of her. The knee to the crotch helped him very little - for he had not yet encountered such a tactic - and while the throbbing pain floated into a disturbingly painful low stomachache, it gave her enough time to strike him with that magic.
So while he winced, bent over and pained, a familiar apathy approached, but in its accompaniment came a growing fear of the girl - this out of shape teenager that he pursued so relentlessly. She's trying to escape - if you let her, then you might too. If she doesn't, you can teleport. Leave. You can escape this with your life. All you have to do is pick a place and think of it. All you have to do is not pursue.
But Umber's eyes narrowed, and he fought with a certain desperation. This has to be magic. It has to be. She is no bear. I'm sick of this senshi s**t.
But she might kill you too.
She won't. This is losing seconds to nothing. Pointless. It doesn't matter if she kills me or not. I am to pursue. Consequences occur outside of thought. Just go. Just ******** move.
The pain in his stomach settled to a dull throb, and he fought with difficulty against the bizarre mix of emotions that suddenly seized him. He liked none of this - he expected that anyone who died to the girl did so beneath the effects of her magic. It was dangerous, subversively so, and her instability suggested that this could get out of control quickly. Dallying in the throes of her abilities assured that this encounter would sour, and dying to her provoked far more than just fear.Daekie she can stay and fight or retreat etc - he will teleport to keep pursuit
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Posted: Fri Jul 10, 2015 7:34 pm
In the moments accorded to her before Umber shook the magic off, Warhol pushed the older man off of her and onto the dirt -- still shaking, her elbows bloody from the harsh skid across the ground, runs in her tights and her face pale -- and then she began to run again, further, breathing shallow and fast. It didn't matter where, really - further into the park's depths seemed to be the direction, but anything was better than here. Anything that wasn't near him was a better place to be. No. No no no. No.Seeing his bare throat made her want to vomit - it free for her foot to rest on - and Warhol couldn't deal with that. It made her feel lightheaded, dizzy, all sorts of bad things (and maybe a little bit hungry for the noise, too, but she pushed that down as soon as the thought came up because she had done what she had to do): and caught up in all those thoughts, Sailor Warhol tripped over a tree root and went head over heels in a pile of misery and seafoam hair. She thought her knee was in her face -- oh, wait, that wasn't a thought. Her knee was jammed into her face. That was uncomfortable. Strickenized warhol attempts to ollie outie, botches her dexterity roll
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Posted: Sun Jul 12, 2015 9:08 am
For a moment, he watched her from where he lay, with the world hanging upside-down.
He realized, then, how it happened.
It was a simple process, likely committed on members of the Negaverse who never met her previously. They would close distance to fight, as natural. She, knowing the effect of her attack, would unleash it. And during the throes of that mood change, they would receive a crushing blow to end their threat - while still distracted by the effects of that mood change. A simple, easy formula it was, and one he could endorse. And he planned to, if he could wrench her under the Negaverse yoke.
Finally he rolled into a crouch and he watched not his target but the area around her intently. She herself winched her foot into a root and collapsed in a pile of indignation, which bought him the time for the attempt. Umber visualized how one particular point within that section of the park might look - how he could see the bark on the trees nearby, see further into the walking trail itself, and feel the crunch of discarded leaves and twigs underfoot. Soon he felt a surge of darkness, much like the feel of it slick on hand when he reached beyond someone's chest, but it graced every iota of his body down to its very fibers. In the next moment, he stood among the beginnings of the park, markedly more exhausted but far closer to his target without taking a step in her direction.
Weapons summoned to hands fluidly, and he balled fists as he stepped around the raised tree roots. He aimed his next step to rest upon her back, between both shoulder blades and over her spine. His words came smoothly and without the ire of a wronged agent. "Combat experience and exposure to murder are two things that we don't often see in our new recruits. It's unfortunate that your roaming free caused the death of two agents, but I no longer think it's a lie. Even if you won't cite their names, or don't remember even the basic description of those you killed, you will recompense by joining us.
"Your magic is useful. I will not let it go to waste." On his last words, he recalled the familiar communications crystal that he used a number of times now, and it rested neatly in his palm.Daekie who would you like summoned? apatite or laurels?
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Posted: Sun Jul 12, 2015 11:24 am
Warhol wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. But with his foot between her shoulders and her own knee in her face, she went still as could be, choking back tears. " Just kill me, then. I'd rather die than join you." It was -- harder to say it in a situation like this, where the threat was actively here and could teleport, but at the same time -- she really rather would die than join the Negaverse. She'd seen Kerberos. Seen what being part of the Negaverse had done to him. He'd been depressed, drunk, strung-out and deep in despair - That wouldn't be her. It couldn't be. (If nothing else, she'd already written a lowdown in her journal for her parents to find someday. Even if this was magical gang war - it was still gang war. People died. Warhol wasn't so blind to think everything would turn out fine for her - and honestly, dying like this? Might be okay. At least it could mean something.) (Her death meaning something would be better than her life being twisted for Chaos, after all.)
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Posted: Tue Jul 14, 2015 12:58 pm
Umber's reply came even and absent color. "Killing you would be a waste." The familiar, smooth weight of the communication crystal materialized in his palm, a sizable difference from its prior emptiness. He held it to lips, paused, and pulled it away for a moment. He looked down at her, as if guessing whether his next statements would have any effect - and if they did, then he considered which effect might take. "You will die in joining us. Hvergelmir confirmed that half your memories are destroyed upon corruption. Your civilian name and life as you know it are lost. You'll have your wish, Warhol."
His gaze shifted to the moon as it shone in broken patterns through the thick summer leaves. "General-Queen Laurelite," he tried over the intercom. "I've secured a super senshi for corruption, identified as one Sailor Warhol. Please assist at your discretion." He left the message short, due to the present weariness from teleportation and sustaining hits from the senshi in question. His stomach still throbbed from the hit, and he expected that he'd know soreness in walking for a few days at minimum. Using the intercom at all felt like a gamble; the captain was uncertain whether he could suppress any backlash from the pinned senshi - but he supposed that he wouldn't have to.
The Negaverse fostered one very peculiar ability that allowed him to render his enemies effectively helpless. He managed the feat under a handful of times, with two instances as deterrent more than outright attempted murder. And while wholesale separating her starseed from her body would cinch any struggles outright, he didn't want to risk killing her in the interim. Instead, carefully, Umber sunk to a crouch over her while he concentrated on the precipitous presence of chaos in his body. He recalled how it felt to push through cloth and skin when his hand pressed flat against the thoracic curve of her back. And soon, fingertips passed through sinew and bone to the interstitial space where the starseed resided. They brushed the too-warm surface of her starseed, pristine as it was absent chaos, and curled about it without hesitance. He squeezed firmly.
I don't know how long I can hold this. I suppose we'll find out.The Space Cauldron if you would please have laurelite corrupt warhol!
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Posted: Sat Aug 01, 2015 9:12 pm
It didn't take long for Laurelite to arrive; it seemed she had gotten used to the calls of the Negaverse. She must have been powered almost nonstop; these calls came in at all hours of the night and heaven forbid she make the mistake of trusting Apatite to carry out something important like this. Not that she'd even seen much of the General Queen in… How long had it been? Months, now. Thoughts of the other woman were fleeting and when Laurelite appeared in a haze of Chaos she gave no indication that her mind might have been elsewhere. Ever smiling, she arrived only a few short feet away from the two, hands folded neatly before her. "Umber, dear, I've half a mind to scold you for working so hard. Do you ever take a day to yourself to rest?" It was a rhetorical question; she did not give him enough time to answer before she took a few small steps to cross the slight distance between her and the senshi. "And you are Warhol, dear? I hope Umber's not giving you a hard time," she said, eying the girl's face. She looked like she could cry any moment now. While there were some senshi Laurelite would kill to see in such a state, she did not know this one. She would, soon, but for now she was just an unfortunate who was not yet on the right path. Laurelite would correct that. "You look a mess. Umber, help her stand, won't you? Keep her steady. And yourself, if you can manage."
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Posted: Sun Aug 02, 2015 7:55 am
Warhol went chalk-pale at the feel of a hand around her starseed, even moreso when it squeezed --she let out a quiet whimper, looking for all the world like she wished to curl up and disappear; not enough power left to scream. Laurelite's sudden arrival made it even worse, like a stifling weight pushing down on her. It hurt, worse than she'd ever felt, but in an incomparable way -- the time she'd been sick for a week and barely been able to drink anything had been awful, too; but of course it wasn't quite like this. Nothing was quite like this. (If Umber was to help her stand, she wouldn't provide any resistance, but she wouldn't provide any help either. Everything hurt, and it left Warhol woozy and stumbling, elbows scratched and bleeding from her sliding and knees steadily bruising plum-purple.)
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