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 Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 1:12 pm
He was trying to sleep. Key word: Trying. He was always trying. Sometimes he would manage small minutes between looking about, keeping his eyes and ears as open as he could in his limited focus, for any clack of heels or boots, the distant whistling of a senshi pleased with their work, or the distant noises that he could never really distinguish as a cough, a cry, a plea for mercy. Sometimes he heard it clear. A sharp noise that made him wonder who it was and if that dying noise was their last. While keeping awake meant being a bit prepared, it felt more like a joke in the end. He'd never be prepared and even if he was awake, there was nothing he could do about it if they did come.
Sleep was what he wanted and needed. Sometimes when rocking, looking about, he would startle and realize he had fallen asleep. Sometimes, someone would wake him just to keep him worn. Well worn. Dead worn. By now, even his hunger and thirst didn't keep him from sleeping.
Head rolling, he'd look around. Sometimes he would see things moving about in the hallway outside his cell. Noises behind his thick, metal door of his room. How long now? Would it be like Gunn said? That he'd be kept here till he died or just held on as some token prize, a pet of sorts, or at least around to hurt the others. Weren't they all hurting?
It was hard to think. He didn't want to think. If he kept quiet, he couldn't be used. If he said nothing….but did he say anything already?
His head drooped, brain foggy as he leaned down and tried to rest. He wondered if he'd see anyone around today. He had seen Elliot again. The small dog had been sniffing at the door, wanting in. Stupid dog. He wasn't going anywhere.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 5:21 pm
She'd wanted to see Wolframite. Scylla hated him, because he was the first Negaverser she feared without genuine cause. Was it that he'd come so close to killing her once before? His youma had been within a hair's breadth of killing her that night, within an inch of knocking her into the frozen river, cutting her until she bled into that damp cold. But she'd persevered, because of the youma's loyalty to its master, and because her power had reacted on an instinct to protect her. Because she'd taken a gamble. She could have been a beautifully preserved corpse, drifting in the water, hair flowing out like a reed. Jada Chamberlyn, heiress, murdered? Or a suicide? Why would she kill herself, with so much to live for? Who had motive and ability to murder her? And who would pick the river?
On the other hand, she hadn't wanted to see him. Looking at what her Court had done to his companions made something inside her cringe, and she knew that no one would have been kind to this infamous one-eyed Captain. Everyone would have wanted their piece, and rumor had it that he was close, in some way, to the Pepto-Bismol lieutenant who had killed Rota. Rota, the martyr for the cause, the scapegoat for the atrocities that they were committing against people that they might very well know, behind their magical masks. Jada didn't want to see the object of her fear brought low, made laughable, made mortal, to see that it was just a person, after all.
But that was what he was, in the end. Captain Wolframite was a broken little stick-figure, chained to the wall, hair half-burned off, his hand twisted and mangled. His uniform was in ruins, and his eyepatch was gone, showing off his closed lids, one of them bruised from one of the beatings he'd taken, the one that Scylla knew to be a beautiful shade of forest green still puffed and swollen. He was oddly beautiful, like a doll, the aura of lame, tired resignation clinging to him like a cloud. Bit not soft, no. Sharp as a knife, pointedly aimed at those who were trying to see how their torture of these warriors would look from the outside.
Of all the things that Scylla had expected to feel when she saw the Captain, pity had not been among them. Fear for herself, and her Court, had not been among them. When the Negaverse saw what had been done to their compatriots- if they saw- vengeance would be swift.
Her shoes clicked softly against the concrete, and she crouched down in front of the smaller figure, hand reaching out to lift his chin carefully. Was he breathing, still? There it was, the warm puff of air into the silence of the room. The Cadets had gone off to find more lucid prey, a more vicious fight, than what this boy could offer. "Captain Wolframite." her voice came out almost tenderly, and she stiffened it for her next words. "Wake up, Captain. You're not to be allowed to sleep."
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 5:35 pm
Without the weapons and fast punches, sitting still and unarmed, Wolframite was just a small teenage boy. His body was skinny, lacking the sort of muscle definition that most boys wished for. No "guns" to show off and kiss. Solitary in a room, chained, scarred, and beaten, he was anything but the impressive officer he could be while out in the night in Destiny City, a treat to the senshi and everyday civilians. He ran, which accounted for worked, slender legs, but he wasn't tall, or lifted weights. He had gained muscle, a bit more flexibility, all through training and patrolling for more than a year now. A eternity it seemed, but he hardly felt as impressive as he did a few weeks….how many weeks? Was it just days or months now……..just a distant past ago.
While he had never been much of a talker, especially around senshi, he barely said anything now. For now, he was quiet, but that aws because he was sleeping, slipped into another quick session of needed rest. A desperate escape for both his weary mind and abused body.
He was so exhausted he didn't even hear her at first, and barely stirred when she touched him. As he spoke his name, Wolframite was his name right? Woof Woof. The big bad wolf. Chained and ready for the kill. Big bad wolf. That was funny. He wasn't big or bad. He'd probably was more of a yipper Some toy. Some pet.
Pet.
Gunn called him a pet. He wasn't a threat. Just a trinket. Why was that?
His eyes fluttered, groaning as she told him to wake. "Noo……no more." He whispered, turning his head away from her to try and resume sleeping. "No. No. no." He didn't want it anymore. He didn't want to be awake. He just wanted to keep his eyes closed. His eye closed. "Closed for business." Out of stock. Nothing to give. Nothing to take. Empty.
He groggily shook his head to keep her from trying to wake him, from touching his chin, from calling him to wake up to whatever she had to do to him.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 5:36 pm
In every cell that she visited, every time she visited, it was worse. It was only General Tanzanite that she was near daily, whose suffering did not make her cringe. Tanzanite, the worst offender of them all. This was a crime. The Negaverser was no threat to them in this condition (which, her mind said logically, was because of his condition) and yet she knew that this was not going to be the end for him. Until he broke, until he died, no one in the Court was going to let him rest. Precious few of the Blood Moon questioned the rightness of what they were doing. After all, the Senshi had been awakened to fight the Negaverse- hadn't they? They had been awakened to serve their duties, and protect the only people that they had left to protect.
People that the Negaverse also claimed to want to protect? Who would kill the very people they were assigned to protect? Ah. Scylla ran her fingers lightly down the side of Wolframite's face, heart clenching as she felt true pity for the boy next to her. The Blood Moon Court cared little for the lives of the Civilians that it threatened at times. The ends justify the means, they had said, and Scylla could believe it-- sometimes. Some means, she decided, were too much for her to bear. This was the path she had chosen to walk, however, and she walked it following the ribbons of the person she had chosen to follow. Fallon, Ares; the careful, gentle friend and the inspiring warrior queen. If everyone else jumped off a bridge, Scylla, would you? She was too tied to them all not to follow now. Wasn't she?
"I don't really want to wake you up either." she said finally, in response to his weak begging. "But we can't let you rest. You understand?" How could he understand? She felt like a fool for even asking. Understand why we are torturing you. Understand why we can't just kill you.
Understand, and tell me so I know the answer.
The senshi didn't say she was sorry. She wasn't, not really. She pitied him. She felt sorrow for him and the other Captains, sorrow for the tribulations of the two weak Lieutenants. But sorry? This was six Negaversers off the street, and more of them hunting senshi, ignoring the innocents on their quest for revenge.
In some corner of her mind, she hadn't thought it would be like this. It was going to be clean. It was going to be a war, and she would help them win it, but it wouldn't be bloody. There wouldn't be pain, and there would be survivors, and those who had died were going to be mostly nameless, outside of her sphere of influence. It would be a censored war, and her hands would be clean and lily-white.
Wolframite's blood stained them now, and she was hard-pressed to keep her stomach from rebelling. "Please, Captain." she repeated herself, adding the 'please' for flavor; "Wake up."
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 5:40 pm
It was the address that woke him. The hand at his face had bothered him, but with all the touching to hold a chin before a punch or pull on some hair, he was growing too tired to care. They would do and take what they wanted if they had the means and access to do so. The only thing he had not given them was valuable information and that was something he clamped his mouth shut on. Playful banter was best suited on his companions, the other Negas who spoke with more flair and confidence then he had, something he only sometimes toyed with from time to time in small degrees but lacked entirely now. The less he talked, if at all, kept all access from that one thing the senshi wanted, these senshi, from finding out anything. All else was free for them to use and destroy.
These senshi because they were different from the rest. The game had certainly change d in their presence. He'd grown used to and comfortable assuming they were always had a battlefield like the others, and each would fight to their strengths. A weapon in hand, a senshi's magic opposing, and at some point, in what he hoped would me a more distant future, he would die in some fight, on his feet like so many Negas before him.
That end was taken from him. There was no pride and glory here. When talking about prisoners killed in cells, no one talked of their deaths with a puffing sense of envy and high esteem. They spoke of them quietly, with pity and their heads down. It was a death he did not want, but then again, he didn't want to die.
It was a wait for it in the end. The days upon days, and it was why he wanted to sleep.
But he voice, the address of 'Captain' made him flutter away as any good officer did when being addressed. He peeled his eyes open, eyes wandering about in circles before he looked at her. This one he knew. He and Scylla fought before. Her tentacles had thrown him in the water and nearly killed him if it hadn't been for his own youma.
"…back to give me a cold?" A twitching smile moved on his dried, chapped lips, before it dropped again. Like always, he looked around as if he could see what day or time it was, but it was all the same. The same in and out. The same sore body and exhaustion with the twisting insides of his body that just wanted a little to eat more than the meager rations. Why did he have to be awake for this? "I'm awake now. ……….so awake." He was woken to a lot more than he hoped to see. To pain, to cruelty by the hands of his enemies, and to who he was. "…it's why I want to go to bed now." Maybe he was talking too much. He better watch that. Quiet was good. It kept others alive. Where the others alive?
His heart ached. Another familiar pain here.
His eyes fell back to her. One green, red about the edges from being tired, the other pure black. "What are you here for?" She had no matches or sharp knives which meant she might just want to use her hands. Where, he didn't know. A punch or a choke hold. Not enough to kill. Never enough to kill, but enough. Enough to hurt and make him wish.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 5:40 pm
For a little while Scylla believed that Wolframite wasn't going to respond, and had a brief flash of fear-- irrational, she knew-- that she had somehow shaken the frail boy-child far too hard and broken him. After all, with eyes closed he was far too slender and unhealthy after the time of his captivity. It was like the change a person could have between the belligerence of awareness and the sweet peacefulness of peace. It was the complete change from how she'd seen him last time. Oh, if he ever escaped he'd make them all pay somehow, but for now?
Finally he shifted again and her relief would be palpable to anyone who was aware enough to notice it. The Captain probably wasn't, so Scylla didn't hide her relief that he was alive. How would she explain that to Ares? "No, I'm not here to give you a cold." she said finally. "Though you'd probably catch one with exorbitant ease. I can almost see your ribs." she dropped her hand off of his face, plopping down on a 'clean' spot on the floor next to him. (Clean being quite the relative term.) Even if he managed to find the strength to try and attack her now that she was so close, he'd do her no harm. The man-child was brittle, and looked close to breaking.
"I've been asked to keep you awake for a while." she said finally. "So I guess I'm here to be generally mean. We can talk about the weather?" regardless of her words, she couldn't keep the note of pity out of her voice.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 5:42 pm
He watched her, eyes half open, blinking slowly. It took him a moment of just a plain, blank expression before he let his chin drop down to look at his body. “Ribs?” He looked at his torn, burn clothes and the bruises and broken fingers. She was worried about how little he was eating when they were the cause. It took some effort, but his shoulders shook a little as he smiled. “I should mind my figure then. Wouldn’t want my looks ruined.” It was a sharp comment if it had some energy behind it, but the delivery was flat and worn and the smile and little laugh that proved that was a joke died off quickly. His body was too sore for laughing, and he felt it was insulting to do so. This place was a prison, a grave, and had the air of a funeral. To think of what his friends were going through also made him feel guilty just to laugh when he was kidding.
Leaning back, he looked up at the ceiling; dirty hair stuck to his forehead as she sat down and mentioned the weather. Now that was worth a laugh, and he licked his lips just so that when he smiled, they wouldn’t crack as much. “Weather.” He repeated, as if to stay on track at all times. One green eye scanned the ceiling. There were no windows here and he hadn’t felt a gust of fresh air since waking up. They could have been at the center of the Earth for all he knew.
“..You’ll be doing the most talking then. Can’t say much.” Not without going outside or seeing it. Even a newspaper clipping of the weather would have been nice. Something cheerful to look at. "...though 'weather's not really mean. I've seen you mean. Octopus mean. Ice water mean." So why not now?
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 5:43 pm
They were killing them all, slowly, and it was something else that Scylla had filed away into her little cabinet of 'do not b***h about.' The Senshi of the Kraken, in her 'real' life, had connections, privileges and responsibilities that she ran away from. Things she did not dare to face. As Scylla, she had none of those things except what she carved out in blood, and she hadn't dared. Who would follow her, if she tied to make a stand? Especially now that she had allowed the ISS to brand her?
She had believed, and she still did, in many of the things that Ares and the rest of the Inner Circle claimed to support. This was war. The senshi, the people, they were all going to die if they did not work together. Seeing what this 'Metallia' had done while they were in Elysion-- if that were true-- had only put it in perspective. Things needed to get done, hands needed to get dirty. They needed to become more like their enemy, they needed to organize, militarize, in order to protect the people of their world. In order to save family, friends. Their warriors could not fight if they were not well-cared for. Shelter, clothing, food; all of the necessities of life? Any member of the BMC could have them provided for them, through the links of family that had been created here. No favor was too much, not really. They were being forged to share bonds as close as any blood tie could offer.
It was hard to wrap one's mind around the lack of mercy that was being showed to these other children. That's what they were, after all. Every last Negaverser captured here was a child. They could have been Jada's classmate, Jada's friend, the brother or sister of a friend. No one could know.
The torture was growing unnecessary. Those who had broken had broken. Those who had not were liabilities. And then there were those who were too broken to even be a liability anymore. Captain Wolframite looked like he should have died. His hand was in pieces, he was bleeding, he'd been set on fire- if he didn't catch ill from this, and soon, Jada'd eat her (metaphorical) hat.
Next to him, she followed his gaze up to the stone roof. "... Me either." she said finally. "Most of my waking hours are spent here." Of course, unlike the prisoners, she went home to her warm, plush bed. Finally, she asked, "Am I supposed to be mean? I didn't want to fight you that night- I mean, I told you I didn't want to. I even offered to sing Kumbaya. But die for you?"
She looked at him directly, cheek resting on her clean knees.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 5:43 pm
He let his head roll, neck resting on the back of his chair as if he own head was too much to hold up. Everything felt heavy, and his brain was constantly aching, buzzing, and too full to process much. Even if the floor was dirty, he would have been happy to curl on the ground and sleep for days. Never had a slab of cement looked so inviting to him, or just bending limbs. Sitting in the same position had made him beyond sore and moving his shoulders would send spikes of sensitive, tender pain from the chains binding him. It hurt to move, and he yearned to spend a few minutes stretching out and to just get some feeling back. Feeling that wasn’t harmful.
“Mean.” He repeated, green eye moving about as it looked at a crack in the wall. “It’s not mean to fight. Accept the challenge, and its fair game. To stand …to fight….to die…on your own two feet.” Die. Die. Die. How long would it be now? Could he even stand when they finally came to get him? Weren’t they bored yet or would Gunn get her way in making him a pet? He didn’t want that.
He heaved his body forward as far as the chains would let him and dropped down, head down as he looked at his lap. It was the closest to laying down he could get. Bent, he looked at his lap, hair greasy and thick as it hung about his face. What parts that weren’t burnt. “Liar. Why miss the clouds when you are fighting like this. What’s the reason?” If she wanted to hit him, why not hit him? Why was she here? Why did she miss the sun and the clouds and singing if she wasn’t here to mess with him? She was going to break him. She was here to stab and jab and tear and bite and chew and lap up the blood.
“The animals are on the outside of the cage.” He whispered, and heard the distant whine of a dog down the hallway. Elliot again. The pup had been whining for some time. Where was he? Which room? Someone must have shut the door on him and forgot he was there. So much whining. It just went on and on and on. “…someone should shut him up.”
What did he want from him? He couldn't get up and unlock the door.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 5:44 pm
She was silent for a few moments, letting the chills course down her spine. There was something about him now that frightened her more than ever. In a way, it was like a horror movie. And little by little the trapped little bird was losing its mind. Next thing they knew he'd be finding the strength to cannibalize her. Or try. Scylla scooted a hair further away from him, not even noticing what she was doing. "It isn't mean to defend yourself." she corrected him finally, after gathering her thoughts and pulling them away from horror story plotlines.
"Your friends? Tanzanite? Uranophane?" she leaned in to him, lifting his head back up with her fingertips. "They are still alive, Wolframite. They haven't broken yet." Would it inspire him, dig some little spark of him out of the tangled mess he was becoming? Or would he even notice? Then again, if he did notice, what would be done about it, exactly? Why was she trying to cheer him up, anyway?
Wolframite was the enemy. Beaten, Battered, Broken, but still the enemy.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 5:44 pm
His eyes had been slowly closing before her fingers brushed his chin, instantly making him tense. Her it would come, and he gritted his teeth, waiting for something. Her interrogation questions were strange to him, but he was waiting for some hidden conclusion. Some point. She’d get there. He’d seen Scylla fight.
Leaning his weight into her hand, he pulled his gaze up, looking at her features. Clean, fresh from a recent shower, with the faint smell of shampoo. In the past, he would have blushed to have a girl touch him like this, and in the end, she was a girl, but it was hard to see that when you were tied to a chair and waiting your end. Still, he almost could have smiled at the idea of being bashful around her, even if she was a senshi. Too bad he knew how vicious these girls could be. The same fingers that probably played with their friend’s hair or flipped through Entertainment magazines had snapped his fingers and burned him.
And yet here she was, holding his head and looking at him, telling him not that they were dead or suffering, but that his friends were alive and unbroken. It was such a relief, to know that they were alive. He had heard them. Their cries and high pitches of agony and torment floating down to his cell. Sometimes a senshi would pass, pleased and upbeat with their work, and he would hear some strangled noise and wonder if they were dead at last. Sometimes he hoped they were, just so he wouldn’t have to hear them. But they were alive, and they had not broken. They had stayed strong.
Why did he doubt that they wouldn’t? Had he even hoped they wouldn’t, just so it wouldn’t be so bad when he finally gave them the answers?
Tilting his head, he smiled, eyes growing soft as he thought of them both. Strong in the face of opposition, to the bitter end. It was inspiring, but painful in comparison. What would they think of him now? “…that’s good. I knew they were strong.” It was the smallest glimmer in the otherwise dark hell he was in, and he felt a mist behind his aching eyes. Not now. Please not now.
He jerked back, embarrassed with himself as he looked away as best he could. Thinking about them, it hurt more than anything else. He was outright ashamed of himself, and even worse now as he tried to breathe deep and fight back the surge of emotions that begged to bubble out, and his shoulders shook as he shuddered, swallowed hard. They’d be so ashamed of him. What would Tanza – Aree say about how he was handling himself? He had to be strong for them. He couldn’t be the weak link. He just couldn’t!
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 6:48 pm
The weight of his head sagged into her palm at her words, and she felt more than heard a breathy sigh of relief- it was in the warmth that spilled over her palm, blown out by his exhalation. It was in the heaviness that overtook him. But it was Wolframite's eyes sent a chill down Scylla's spine. The green orb was beautiful, but the other was... nothing. It was black, eerie, absent. She let him continue to use her hand as a pillow, not thinking about it as she inspected him like a working animal. Would he last? Did he have strong teeth? What about his haunches, or a well-formed back? What her mind was actually pondering (regardless of her facial expressions) was how he'd lost his eye. A missign eye was a distinctive feature, in its way. Even with the magic, shouldn't someone missing an eye niggle at the mind?
"They are strong, so far." Scylla wasn't cutting him any slack. In her own way she was being kind, in her own way, she was being cruel. "They're not breaking yet, but they aren't any prettier than you are." she leaned in, close enough to let him smell the mint of her chewing gum. "Don't be the weakest link, Wolf. It isn't any fun. Buck up." She couldn't stand the look in his... eye. The beginnings of a desperation there... "Put up a good fight before you break, at least." His eyes averted from her and he jerked out of her hand. She let him go easily, catching the chair before it could fall over with the startled jerking motion he'd made. His shoulders shuddered, and she reached out, touching his face just under the puffy, bruised eye.
This was wrong. All of it made the girl she was, beyond the warrior she had to be, cry out in outrage. Jada wouldn't stand for it under other circumstances, so why was she a sheep here? Because it was Ares leading the madness? Because she was afraid to take a stand against it? Because by hurting these Negaversers they had the chance to save lives? All of the above, or none?
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 7:06 pm
They were all so strong. They had always been so strong. Even here, whatever end would happen, he saw the others rise up against the face of their enemies and be filled with the energy and belief in their cause. He had always had that same drive, that same power, and had risked his life for the Negaverse, for his city, and for Earth. For the people he loved, had come to love, and cherished, he fought. It was hard to have that inspire you now when you were tied down and attack. The pummeling reminded him of his time as a child, when he was beaten down at school by other children, alone, and yet he managed to endure and keep going. It was a different time now. This wasn’t a couple of kids bullying someone. This would lead to death, and they were after lives, these enemies. This time, he had friends who were standing up, and while it was a comfort, it was a great deal of worry with it. All the while, Scylla said they were alive and fighting. They would keep fighting to their death even in such a hopeless situation. Why did he lack faith now, hope even, when everyone else was being strong? If he was to lean on them when he felt weak, he should be there to be strong for them too.
But would he fail them? In the back of his mind, he felt he would. He worried he would bring about their end or fail to support them as much as they had helped him. What if he was the weakest here?
She touched him again, and he looked up, eyes misting over. Even the black one, as ominous as it was, a dark, glossy marble, was wet. “I don’t want them to die…” He didn’t want to be the cause of it or hear it. It was the largest worry he had. If he was the weakest link, then it would be better if he died before he killed them all. If that was his way to protect them, he wanted to not bring them any more harm and keep them as strong as they could.
His voice had been small, young, and raw. Doubt and worry for his friends, his small family, traced his words. They were too close to him. Too close. They helped make him what little he was today. More than who he was a year go. He'd never be able to pay them back. Ever.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 7:44 pm
"Let me tell you a secret, Wolframite." Scylla leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. "Once upon a time there was a princess. She was born to a king and a queen, and they loved her dearly. And all she wanted was for everyone to love her, and everyone to be as happy and as lucky as she was. Then one day an assassin tried to kill her, and she found out she wasn't a princess to be cossetted and left in the tower, but that she was supposed to be a warrior. She never wanted to be a warrior, she didn't know how. The people who kept trying to hurt her, and hurt everyone she loved, and even the people they didn't know, because the Wicked Witch said to." She swallowed her own spit, not going to pull out her water bottle in front of the other youth. "So she had to learn to fight, so that she could protect all the people she loved."
It was a generic fairy tale. Why...?
"But all she wanted was to have people happy, Wolframite. But there couldn't be peace. Why? Why wouldn't the assassins leave her and her home alone? It was the only place left that hadn't fallen to them... they could have anywhere they wanted. So why here?" Why couldn't this 'Metallia' and this Negaverse Queen just take their army of monsters somewhere else, and leave Earth alone? They'd destroyed everything else the senshi had loved... why did they need this place too?
She stared at her hands, thoughtful.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 8:40 pm
It was a sweet story, if not a sad one, but it wasn't something he could wrap his mind around right now. What did a fairy tale have to do with here, right now, in this cell? If she was trying to go on her peculiar comforting path, a story wasn't something he wanted to hear. Maybe when he was in better spirits, someplace far away from here, he would have loved it. He always had loved fairy tales and fantasy stories, but this wasn't make belief or written in a book. Everything was too sharp, too real for him to escape that easily.
Instead, he looked at her, one eye moving from one to the other as he looked up at her, unsure of her direction. What he did was watch her, following her story along with what little thought process he had still going for him, and watched her. The questions she asked, either to get him to think or as a real answer, wasn't something he could put together. If this was something to do with the Negas and the senshi, all he could think about was their own Queen and the planet itself. Why were the senshi here trying to destroy their peace? Hurting them? Doing this? "...to take our home?" It was what the Queen told them. The senshi were here to hurt and destroy at all cost to take the planet as their own. It was here, now, that this was made very clear.
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