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 Posted: Wed Jun 08, 2011 11:06 pm
As far as establishments for the musically inclined usually went, this one was nothing special. Only the most common and well-known instruments had any floor space. It was very clean, and oozed with an eerie sort of professional appeal.
Jack thought somebody was trying too hard.
Nevertheless, it had always been one of his favourite places to window shop. For one reason, and one reason alone. On display in a glass case behind the staff counter there was an autographed guitar. There was no telling how this modest store, which was insignificant by most standards, had gotten their hands on something signed by The King himself.
Maybe it was fake. Maybe it wasn't.
Jack didn't care. He just wanted it-- had wanted it for as long as he could possibly remember.
So on one warm and sunny day, grinning from ear to ear, Lieutenant Proustite decided to do a little shopping. The music store was quiet when he arrived. A couple of customers milled about here and there, but he was not worried about them.
Proustite smiled softly and feigned interest in an impressively shiny tuba. His reflection grinned cheekily back at him. Proustite took a moment to fix his hair and admire himself, and smoothed his hand along his hairless chin.
Oh, what a handsome devil!
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Posted: Fri Jun 10, 2011 12:28 pm
Moonlighting in the daytime was usually ill-advised. You were probably less likely to go stumbling into a senshi, but you were more likely to be on the receiving end of a hail of bullets from the police or even a crazed lone gunman. So unless one took great pains to be careful, energy stealing was right out. It paid to be inconspicuous, and Hematite's military uniform was anything but. Daytime was for nonmagical errands, then, and that was that. But no one said anything about being limited to nonmagical methods of transportation.
Finished for the day, he'd ducked down an alley to transform in order to teleport home. And stopped. There was the faintest sense of someone else nearby, powered up as well. He held up his communicator crystal to determine the source and watched the small ball of color swirling inside turn a deep inky black. Whew. A friendly.
And then the dead captain and Alkaid's white-knuckled reaction came to mind. He... probably owed it to Alkaid to check on them.
He traced the power to its source, a lieutenant he'd never met before, just as they disappeared into a music store. Hematite gave them a few seconds and then followed. His uniform, he hoped, could be overlooked as good old death metal enthusiasm.
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Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2011 3:45 pm
The Lieutenant was still preening himself in his makeshift mirror when Hematite slipped into the store. He stiffened visibly, fingers frozen where they'd been combing through his hair, and tried to get a good feel for the source of that power.
Whoever it was had more strength than he did.
When they did not immediately attack or out him in front of everyone, Proustite guessed that this stranger was not hostile. He'd never known a senshi to bide their time, or to take the defensive before a fight. Proustite had not met many senshi, but none of the ones he had were clever enough to practice subtlety.
He stood casually, straightened his jacket, and zeroed in on Hematite.
Proustite smiled. There was no mistaking that military uniform for anything other than what it was.
"Roger," he called out to the Captain as though they were long lost friends, ignoring the mild looks of disapproval the other customers shot in his direction. "It's so good to see you, buddy."
"How long has it been?" Proustite mused, went to Hematite, and slung a companionable arm over his shoulders. "Years? Months? Weeks, certainly."
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