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 Posted: Wed May 01, 2013 10:39 pm
He couldn't believe it - still. Just about twenty hours ago he'd powered up and not even just that but he'd put his dark powers; his ability to corrupt to use. He hadn't planned it, he hadn't even planned to power up, not so soon after what he'd done to Bazzite. But he'd had to do something with that wraith acting up, and seemingly not listening to Remarque, and than had further had to do something about the civilian he'd powered up in front of. It hadn't mattered that they may not have seen him do it. The point was that they may have and he couldn't take the chance. It had been so easy, easier than it should have been, to slide his hand into their chest and push his own darkness into them. Grasping onto their starseed hadn't given him the thrill it had in the past. It hadn't been a moment of pride or a moment or anything but shock and guilt. he was bestowing the darkness onto another. Perhaps it was guilt over what he'd done or the need to cling to someone else who was innocent, or at least innocent in this war at the moment, that had driven him to teleporting them directly into his home.
It had been a risk to teleport into his home, something he'd never done before, as he'd never wanted his signature tied to this area or his home in specific but he'd done it. He'd teleported the heavier, and taller, male into his home and proceeded to drag the unconscious male up the stairs and into his room where he'd laid him down on top of his comforter. He'd likely feel something from being dragged up the stairs, as likely his legs had been bruised from banging the stairs on the way up, but it couldn't be helped. He'd teleported downstairs and not upstairs.
Now though twenty hours had passed and still no signs of the other waking, and he'd been checking when not in school or at work. It was after dinner and Alexandre was heading up to his room to check - again. He'd already slept on the couch one night, he wasn't intending to do that again. For the few hours of sleep he could be blessed with he wanted to be comfortable; and the couch while comfortable was not comfortable enough to sleep on all night especially not when thrashing about from nightmares. Coming up the stairs he padded down the hall in socked feet, for no other reason than comfort did he wear socks, intent upon checking up on the other and perhaps retrieving a book to read and the laptop he had in his room on his desk top.
Stepping into the door way of his room he glanced about. Nothing seemed out of place and the dark haired male still seemed out of it. "Never had someone pass out after corrupting them..." He mused to himself, fingers raking through short ash blond strands of hair. "I wonder if it's normal of it's some bad sign..." He really hoped it wasn't anything bad. He had been feeling worry slowly filling him as time went by, he'd been a jittery mess in school. Jiggling a foot or glancing at the clock in his class room every few minutes, he couldn't help it. He was worried for his newest corrupted Lieutenant. After what had happened with Bazzite he felt he had good reason to worry. he'd already messed up once and what was to say there wasn't something wrong with him? Or that his nervousness hadn't caused him to mess up this time, where as he hadn't done so in the past. No, he was worried and it showed as he locked eyes on the dark haired figure.
Approaching his bed slowly he bent down to inspect the other carefully. He was still breathing he noted, relief eating away at some of his worry, as he watched the rise and fall of the others chest. So why was he still asleep?
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Posted: Wed May 01, 2013 11:28 pm
Alois groaned as consciousness slowly returned to him. He'd been fading in and out for the past four hours, fighting to stay awake against the residual pain pulsing throughout his body. It wasn't an easy feat; many a time he simply gave in to the pain and passed out, completely unaware of the world around him. This strange world... It felt akin to an Edgar Allen Poe story he'd read time and again. It felt so familiar, as ageless as the ache within his chest, yet so foreign at the same time.
What was this bizarre twist of events that befell him? Was this simply another dream? Another nightmare, a machination from his own twisted mind? No - the pain was all too real. This place, he was every bit as present here as he had been at home, earlier in the week. It was no different from when he was crossing the street, or walking his dog, or minding the store. This place was every bit as real, every bit as present. It was a nightmare ensnared in the fabric of reality, a single patch in an otherwise seamless sheet.
Then it should be finite, right? These unnatural events would have to end soon. They couldn't pervade his life forever. It would fade as surely as the pain in his chest. It had to, if he was going to survive this.
And he intended to survive this.
By the time he opened his eyes, he felt someone's presence in the room. Someone was watching him. Was it his savior? That French vixen he yearned to meet, and thank all night long? If so, he shouldn't keep her waiting. He wouldn't mind setting eyes on such a tantalizing sight and expressing his gratitude in every language he conceived of. He wanted her to know, without a shred of doubt, that he owed her his life. With a quick turn of his head, he determined...
That what he faced was definitely no French vixen.
There were no words to express his disappointment.
However, he wasn't entirely sure the person before him was female. If this individual was a girl, she was much too flat-chested for his taste. And if it was a man... Well, is it possible to be that short and effeminate? Maybe the exhaustion of chronic pain muddled his ability to discern gender. It didn't matter; he was safe. For now.
"Who ze ******** you?" He eked out from parched lips. His tired gold eyes surveyed the person before him without shame. "Who brought me here? It couldn't haf' been you." This individual possessed nary a pound of muscle from the looks of it. How could s/he possibly carry him for any distance? This person probably couldn't even hoist him over their shoulder. And he shuddered to think of being carried any length bridal-style. "And who did zis to me? I'd tear his sroat out and shove it up his a** if I could just..." Alois tried his best to sit up at a normal pace, but the sudden pounding in his head stifled his efforts.
Once he'd managed to shift to a sitting position, Alois rubbed his temples gingerly. His chest still throbbed, but no amount of caressing would mitigate the pain. "And do you have somesing to drink?" He didn't know how long he'd been out, as he only had a 12 hour clock to judge time, but it hurt to speak and his mouth was bone dry. How long could that indicate? A day, maybe more?
Given all he's been through, Alois felt wasted. His body protested every movement, his mind struggled to focus on the questions that swirled about in an utter turbulence. He needed to understand what happened to him, and why. He didn't have anyone to question about the events aside from the person before him, this ash blonde individual whose gender he couldn't determine. They would have to sate his hunger for answers, and endure the onslaught of questions and wild accusations that he'd formed during his stunted phases of consciousness. He didn't care if it took all night (or was it day?), but he'd receive the answers he sought. Not only that, but he fully intended to slaughter the individual that nearly murdered him not long ago.
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 12:12 am
Surprise flashed across his features as he leaned back. They were awake. That was good, very good, as he felt relief fill him to the core. He'd been worried, very worried, that something had happened. The other might have been breathing but that didn't mean all was well. But with them awake and talking he was sure all had gone well and he hadn't messed this up as well. Mentally he heaved a heavy sigh of relief and smiled, though nothing outwardly showed. He didn't want to give away anything yet. "Alexandre, and whether you will believe me or not I did bring you here. This is in fact my bedroom." For one so young his bedroom was not what most would expect, not that he much cared for what other people thought of him or if their expectations of him were dashed. Why should he care honestly? Most people were beneath him after all.
As slate eyes swept over his new Lieutenant he felt a small smile blossom and he didn't hide it, he was too happy right now to do so. Straightening himself he walked around his bed, finger tips trailing along the bottom end of his bed. The deep, rich, wood color rose up from the bottom of his bed and curled at the end of his bed. He had something of a sleigh bed but ornate with carved in to wood of a deep color. Amused slate hued eyes focused on the other as he airily answered the others question. "I did this to you - if by this." Here he waved his hand at the other. "you mean corrupting you and giving you another life." He said easily, far more easily than he felt. Was it really so easy for him ti slip into this role again? It seemed like it to him even if on the inside he was guilt ridden over this. Her nerves weren't there but the guilt was there as the worry was no longer at the forefront of things.
"Of course. I can get you something. Tea, coffee, water, juice?" He asked as he found himself seated upon the ledge of the bay window his room possessed. "milk." He added almost as an after thought. It wasn't something he drank but they had, for cereal, tea, and other such purposes. As he sat he felt one leg cross the other and his left elbow came to rest on the top leg. His hand tilted down so the back side faced upward his chin rested on the back of his hand. A slight tilt to his head, resulting in his cheek pressing to the back of his hand gently. Never once did his eyes leave the other as he watched him intently.
"Perhaps you should have a drink and a good - maybe even a shower before we discuss things. I'm sure you have questions." He didn't for a moment worry over the threat of bodily harm, or murder. Neither thing worried him. He could handle himself quite well - thank you very much.
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 12:41 am
He searched the other man's features for answers. Yes... Definitely a man. The deeper voice gave him away, and put his gender questions to rest. At least he understood that much now, and that he owned the place. Perhaps that meant some of his extrapolations were validated. This must be the man interested in horticulture and classic literature, who wore tailored suits and expensive clothes that were expertly organized amidst the open closet. He owned the impressionist paintings of places he found so familiar - of Paris, and the streets of France, even one of beautiful Venice, where he'd visited only once before. Yet... Given the man's accent, he was undoubtedly American. Maybe he only yearned to visit the inspirations for those paintings. He couldn't tell; there were more important matters to discuss, rather than the man's taste in fine art.
For one, there was the fact that it hurt to speak. "Cognac, if you haf' it. Or water." He mumbled offhandedly. The pounding in his head made it difficult to concentrate, and it affected his breathing, he noted, due to the pair of door frames struggling to come into focus. Maybe a bit of alcohol would do the trick. He knew well that it served as a wonderful painkiller. However, if this Alexandre lacked that staple household item, then he'd have to settle for water and about half a bottle of over-the-counter analgesics. That wouldn't take the edge off his hypervigilant mind, however.
Slowly the realization dawned on him as he processed the blonde's words. He shot the man a scathing glare. He did this? He forced his hand into Alois' chest and nearly killed him? "What ze ******** were you sinking? What did you even do to me?" The questions welled up and spilled out of him without warning. "Were you trying to kill me, or did you just want to take me home for your ******** up science projects? Why did you even take me here? You should've left me for dead!" He snarled in an acidic tone. He'd make sure this boy regretted ever crossing paths with him.
Alois didn't care about the blonde's assertions about giving him another life. It didn't matter; he didn't want another life. He didn't care enough about the one he had already. What made this a*****e think he wanted another life? Did he ask? No. He was simply enjoying his night when this shitstorm began and ended with a brush with death he never wanted to receive.
He forced himself off the bed in an agonizing sweep. Moving helped ease the pain, though the amount was minuscule. "What ze ******** is zere to discuss?" This boy was out of his mind if he thought there could be a calm discussion following a near death experience like that. "You did zis to me. You could've killed me." He reached for his back pocket, yet couldn't find the familiar cold steel that fit so perfectly against his palm. Where was his knife? Was it dropped in the midst of the chaos from before? Did this Alexandre fellow seize it before leaving him here? He'd be hard pressed to gut the blonde without it, and nothing in the room made a fitting cutting tool. Save for maybe the ends of the candlesticks... Maybe a swift stab to the chest would solidify a bit of respect for leaving him alone. Then again, he found it insurmountably difficult to even stay awake half the time; what made him think he could put up a fight as he was now?
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 1:01 am
Really? He expected him to have alcohol in the house? He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, though perhaps by the very specific request. One would think a teenager lived with his parents and that there would be some form of alcohol found within the residence. Sadly the dark haired male was out of luck and water would have to suffice, since he seemed to not want something flavored to drink unless it was Cognac. Standing, his legs sliding off the other, he stood gracefully and made for the door. he had a drink to get for the other after all.
Passing by his bed he sent the other a sideways look, a cold look, and tilted his head upward so his noise stuck up in the air. A haughty expression from the ash blond teen. "You were rather unfortunate last evening. You got yourself into a bit of a mess and it was unfortunate that I had to...power up in front of you. Risking that you saw I had two options to me. Either I could kill you or do to you as I did. I was not trying to kill you - had I wanted to do so you'd have been dead." How could he speak such words so easily? Even speaking them brought a constricting feeling to his chest. Almost gasping aloud he barely contained it. It hurt talking about such things, to imagine them. But he had to force himself to go on and to be who he needed to be...at least for the moment. He would sit and ponder and let the guilt eat at him later.
"You wouldn't have died from what I did... merely been weak and food for those who might seek to kill you - especially given how you passed out." He stated, if anything his noise went higher into the air and his gaze sharpened on the other. "Now, do you want your glass of water or not? Perhaps you should follow me to the kitchen and along the way you'll get your answers." Seeing the other out of his bed was a good thing, even if the other was annoying him at present. he had to remember what he'd done. He'd essentially raped his soul and given him no choice. He'd always sworn, and promised, himself to give someone the choice to join the Negaverse. To how many had he told them the choice must be given? That to force someone to join could give yield a useless, uncooperative, member who was simply a number added to their total members. And yet after saying it numerous times he'd done it. And again the guild stabbed at him as the other spoke.
"Their is much to discuss unless you wish for death." He stated shooting the other a cold, almost glacial, look. "And again, I did not almost kill you. Had I wished you dead I'd have done it. I didn't kill you thus I did not want you dead and there is no almost or could have." He stated with a note of finality to his words. Although he could have killed him by accident, right? Just like he'd killed Johnathan? Another mistake, another broken promise. Another stab of guild that threatened to double the teen over as if physically struck. But he held together and kept his rigid posture.
And without another word he turned his head from the other and headed out his bedroom door and into the hallways. The hallway was rather non-nondescript when compared to his room. Carpeted and without framed pictures lining it. The hallway revealed a door, possibly to another bedroom, in front of his room and two doors beyond his room. At the end of the hall a small window. One of the doors was on the opposite side of hallway as his room but it was past his room, closer to the end of the hall which ended in a small window. It was the stairs going to the first floor that he headed toward, his hands finding their way into his pants pockets.
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 1:26 am
As much as he hated to do it, he had to follow the blonde. If he had his knife, he could simply stab the boy in the back and be done with it all, be done with the garbage that spewed from his mouth and be done with this indescribably unnatural phenomenon. The other man's demeanor did nothing to dispel his bloodthirsty thoughts; haughtiness above all else ignited his temper. Still, he had to quell his impulses toward retribution and sit through whatever lies Alexandre crafted until the means to be rid of him presented itself. And he still needed to find that damnable knife. How was he supposed to make good on his death threats without any weapons to implement them?
"I don't know what you mean wis' zis 'powering up' s**t, but I didn't see anything until you were shoving your hand into my chest." Even the mention of it reinvigorated the pain. He didn't want to reference that memory anymore. No; he'd rather forget it for the remainder of his life, however short it may be now. "So whatever you did - you did it for no reason." What a pointless action... All this pain, and what was to come of it? Some so-called 'new life'? Dealing with this t**t on a consistent basis? Great, just what he needed - another permanent irritant in his life.
Alois was growing tired of hearing the other man asserting that he could murder the misanthrope with little effort. If Alexandre wanted him dead, he'd be dead. Sure, it was easy to say - he could just as simply counter with claiming he could grow a sword out of his a** if he so willed it. Conviction didn't cement it in truth. "Perhaps you should've killed me." He offered the shorter man a sardonic smirk. "It would save you a world of hurt." He had every intention to pay the blonde back in spades. If he wanted to put Alois through hell, then Alois would construct a tenth level of it just for him. He'd take painstaking measures to make sure this brat was as thoroughly miserable as was humanly possible, and drive him to suicide if he was lucky. That would certainly make his day - watching the boy drown in bile from an overdose. What a satisfying thought.
However, talking still pained him, and for the moment he'd play along in this paltry game of make-believe. Besides, moving around reduced the pain to a dull ache. He followed the other man at a healthy distance, choosing to lag behind and examine his surroundings. Despite the ornate room he'd just left, the hallway was rather unassuming and nondescript. The walls were terribly barren, and the carpet felt worn from heavy traffic. Either the house was very old, or Alexandre traversed the halls quite frequently. That would suggest a busy lifestyle, at least. Either that, or he had terrible pacing tendencies.
There were few doors lining the hallway, only four that he'd noticed. He didn't bother to glance through the meagerly sized window at the end of the hallway; he probably wouldn't recognize his surroundings regardless. He'd rather keep an eye on his sadistic little t**t in front of him more than anything, but it paid to be attentive of his surroundings. If a door opened behind him, he'd like to know where the door was at. However, given the silence in the house, he suspected no one else was home. Good - that meant less witnesses when he found the opportunity to jump this poor fop's s**t.
Stairs hurt, but he expected it. The heavy footfalls of descending sent jolts of pain through his body, and he weathered them with a stoic expression. Maybe it was too little too late, but he didn't want the other man watching him deal with it so poorly. "So," he began, finally lighting on the ground level. "Tell me about zis new life. What's so special about you ruining my shirt and ******** up my chest?" He was curious to know the arrogant sap's rationalizations for how he was better off this way. Pain is gain, the more he hurts the better he feels? That he secretly implanted a micro transmitter into his chest, and some government organization could send him their orders? The latter seemed a more likely excuse he'd hear. It'd make sense if this blonde idiot was schizophrenic, though he was probably off the mark with that one.
"And tell me - what exactly did you do to me?" He'd never seen anything like it before; surely there was some great purpose behind sinking one's hand into another's chest.
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 1:44 am
Lips twitching at the others words, clearly amused, he shook his head. "Of course you wouldn't know what I mean. And I would offer to show you however not in the house. I don't wish for certain people to sense me here. I'd rather my home not become some beacon on their radar." He spoke. Of course he didn't get into who it was that he was referring to, or what could or would be sensed, but he would get into it all in due time. "Not for no reason. It was to spare your life, as I said I had two options. Do what I did or kill you. I chose the option which would leave you alive." Really he thought he'd put him through such pain for no reason, not to mention the pain he himself felt? Had he doomed himself to dealing with someone on par with Dustin? It seemed like he had perhaps. Just what he needed.
"Do you value your life so little?" He questioned as he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the other. Down the stairs and right into the living room. Carpeted floor and fine leather furniture. Wooden coffee table and side tables. The room was nicely done, just like his bedroom, and candle holders again filled the room as well as lamps. But there also stood a grand piano, which was not his, but it certainly seemed well loved and even had sheet music in place. "Save me? A world of hurt...do you really think you can hurt me? And do remember who's hand was in who's chest. I can do that again." If he put up a front, if he acted cold, maybe the other would back and and yield to him and accept what he'd done. He could than explain things to him, pass on the information the other would need. It was his hope that this would be easy but he feared it would not be easy at all.
Passing a long leather couch, which had a quilt thrown over it, he made it into the kitchen where on the floor was a dog food bowl and a water bowl. The kitchen wasn't bright but it also wasn't dark like his room was. He couldn't stand the idea of any room being white and so the kitchen wasn't white in color now was it some off white color. The appliances were stainless steel all save for a coffee maker which seemed custom made. It was done in what would be termed steampunk fashion, a gift from someone. On the table sat a bowl of fruit and a single large candleobera. The lights that were on in the room gave a night amount of light without being blinding. It was to the fridge he went and opening it he pulled out a bottle of water which was offered to the other. "Sit and drink. I have much to say and I'm sure you have as many questions as I have things to say." And that list of questions would surely grow.
Without waiting for the other to sit he grabbed himself a bottle of water, flavored, and uncapping it he took a drink while leaning himself against the counter top, which was fairly new, and focused his eyes on the other.
"Have you watched the news? Heard or seen about the cities terrorist issue?" He asked, yes it might seem odd to open with that but the other would find out why soon enough.
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 2:10 am
Did he value his life? "Not really," he admitted, in a rare moment of absolute honesty. His core values lay in nihilism - his life made little difference to the world around him. It would change, grow, and exist in its natural turbulence with or without him. Why would it matter if he lived or died? Since Alois recognized his actions made no difference in the grand scheme of things, it eased a considerable amount of guilt from his shoulders for what he's done over the years. However, it also left him searching for a reason to continue living, and he struggled to pick from the meager choices before him.
Great, he was being threatened with the hand in the chest thing. "Please." He replied, his voice steeped in sarcasm. What more could he wish for than to relive the agony as many times as this boy saw fit? Perhaps if he wasn't such a prissy little s**t, Alois would have the patience to listen to what he had to say. However, easy dismissal of his abilities and disdain for his admittedly justified responses only left a bitter taste in his mouth when dealing with Alexandre. "I can sink of nossing more enjoyable zan you fisting my heart again. Or whatever it was." He rubbed his chest as he spoke. The tattered fabric where Alexandre's hand resided last night hung limply towards the floor.
Obviously their pissing contest was going nowhere, and his increasing exhaustion urged him to sit down and quietly mend his pride. Thankfully there was a rather inviting leather couch not far from him, and he didn't need to be told twice to have a seat. Alois examined the quilt lining the back, twisting the fibers betwixt his fingers. It felt worn, yet well-made. It didn't surprise him; the house appeared full of extravagant furnishings that stood the test of time. He found innumerable ornate candle holders and candelabras scattered throughout the living room and bedroom. It must've been some bizarre hobby of his. Either that, or some weird kink. If he goes thrusting his hand into people's chests, how far off the beaten path must it be for him to be obsessed with candlelit encounters?
Alois took the water from the blonde without a word, and twisted it open to hear the satisfying crack of the cap's plastic tines breaking. He downed a good third of the water in a matter of seconds, happy to finally quench his insatiable thirst. He was still growing accustomed to the spring water they sold here; he preferred mineral water but he'd take what he could get.
A stiff drink was still his ideal choice. Little did he know how appropriate it would sound after the coming conversation.
What the hell did terrorists have to do with flipping out and thrusting a hand into his chest? It seemed completely off the wall; maybe his previous evaluation of schizophrenia was closer to the truth than he thought. He'd read about it on the internet before moving to Destiny City, but his father assured him that it was all hearsay and that the place's benefits far outweighed the spiel about terrorists. He'd also seen several newscasts featuring new destruction wrought by a group of bizarre teenagers wearing outlandish outfits. Was he referencing that? A gaggle of teens meandering around causing mischief and mayhem? That hardly seemed like it had bearing on the two's painful meeting.
"... Yes, I'f heard about it." He spoke slowly, struggling to stifle his sharp wit. How many quips would he have to suppress over the duration of their talk? And how long would it take before he could shove a knife into the other man's chest? That seemed fair; an eye for an eye was still a plausible philosophy to this day. "How does zat relate to us?" Unless Alexandre was one of the terrorists, he didn't see how it had any bearing on their brewing disagreement.
Alois sat back and propped his feet up on the coffee table. He was still wearing his boots; when was the last time he took them off? Rather than continuing to sit and slowly scuff the coffee table, he instead unlaced and slipped the combat boots off his feet and set them against the couch. It was about the best he could do in the department of kindness and proper houseguest etiquette; maybe the other man could respect that. Then again, he might just flip a b***h and go off on him for even considering to put his feet on the table. C'est la vie. He sat back once more and quietly crunched the plastic bottle between his hands as he awaited the blonde's response.
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 2:34 am
"Your heart? No. It was your soul I grabbed." He stated easily. That was what a starseed was, at least as far as he knew. He'd never thought of it as anything else and why would he? It seemed to fit the 'usual' description of a soul. Although one had to wonder if those who came up with a soul knew about starseeds and knew what they were and had simply called them souls, or something similar. But that wasn't a matter to ponder right now, perhaps later or another time, he had a Lieutenant to teach and to try to handle. He really didn't feel up to this but he'd done the corrupting so this was his to deal with, not to mention he lacked anyone suitable to pass him on to.
"Good, that helps me explain things." At least he'd heard of it, since the accent had him wondering how new the other was to Destiny City. He'd worried he'd have to go searching online for clips or finding information, pictures, ect... about he terrorist acts in the city. Know he didn't need to do that helped somewhat. he still had a lot to explain and he didn't think the other would take him seriously. He'd have to break a rule of his twice in less than twenty-four hours time, he was almost sure of this. "The terrorists are just that - terrorists. But their are people who fight against them, though also are mistaken for terrorists. I am one of those people and as of last evening so are you."
There was no doubt in his mind the other would think him insane and in need of a straight jacket. He was sure the other would think, if not say, it the moment he brought up magic but it needed to be brought up since magic was a big factor in this whole thing. Gathering himself up he pushed off the kitchen counter top and padded into the living room where he let himself settle into an arm chair. His bottled water set down on a side table, on a handy and conveniently there coaster.
"Those terrorists aren't from here, not originally. They are senshi and knights, that is what the terrorists are called. The senshi were originally from other planets, stars and other such heavenly bodies. In a long ago war they died, the particulars of how and why they became involved in that war are unknown to me. Their souls have been reborn here and now and have awakened. Each posses magics." Oh yes, this conversation was going to go oh so well. Pinching the bridge of his nose he fingers than raked through his short hair.
"As for the knights they are similar. While it seems there is only one senshi per planet and star it is not so with Knights. I have met multiple knights of Jupiter and Earth. So I assume each planet and star had several knights. They too have magic but also carry some item, normally some item which has little to no use or purpose - just like they have little to no use or purpose other than being killed." He stated. Yes his words were cold but why shouldn't they be? He had killed before and they were the enemy. For his own kind he possessed feelings of guilt, remorse, and more. But for the enemy he lacked such things in nearly all cases, the exceptions being where he thought he could turn them to the side of chaos.
"You are like I am, now you are anyway. You are a member of the Negaverse, a Lieutenant for now. You will find you have some magic, nothing like the senshi, and a weapon as well. You will be stronger and faster as well but only when powered up. These are gifts - these powers - in order to fight and kill the enemies of this planet and it's people. There is a war going on, being fought in this city, and I've just brought you into it." Unwillingly but he had indeed brought the other into it. "What I did last night was I grasped your soul and filled it with the energy I posses and others on our side do - that of chaos. I tainted your soul and also gave you power and strength. For bringing you in against your will I do apologize. But it was either that or death and life is better than death when death can be avoided."
And now as he fell silent he waited for the others words, for the accusations of being insane and other such things. He was sure they would come and was prepared for them. He would have to prove his words to be true and he was prepared to do so - he had to be.
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 3:25 am
From the sound of it, he got soul raped. Lovely. Two key pieces of information came from the other man's statement. One: He actually has a soul. Two: He is now a rape victim. Neither fact appealed to him, though he couldn't decide which was worse. Having a soul implied a plethora of other things, such as life after death and immortality and the musical spheres of heaven, as well as the possible presence of hell or reincarnation or... Essentially anything that directly contradicted the philosophy he'd stuck to all these years. Just the thought of mulling over the intellectual arguments aggravated his headache. He didn't even want to consider the ramifications of changing his entire life's philosophy right now. There were other things to focus on.
The information Alexandre supplied became increasingly more perplexing as he went on. Was this some kind of joke? Did his parents stage this s**t on him just to change his insufferable behavior? Suddenly now he was a part of some counter-terrorist movement that he never volunteered to be a part of, and there was absolutely zero documentation of his indoctrination into this group, he wasn't getting paid, and he had a complete jackass as his superior, as far as he'd gathered. Why the ******** would he want to fight terrorists when terrorizing people sounded far more appealing? Oh, right, he found out he had a soul - he's supposed to think differently now, or something. Was that it? Shake up his foundations and maybe he'll agree to go fight crime and walk old ladies across the street?
Fat chance.
Alexandre's tale became increasingly farfetched as he continued. Aliens? Zombie knights? Magic? How long has this kid been off his medication? The old hand-in-the-chest routine aside, trying to pawn off tales of dead aliens suddenly coming back to life and terrorizing planet Earth sounded more like it belonged in the comic book section rather than current events. Normally he would stand up and assert his outrage, accuse the boy of being certifiably insane, storm out in a fit of rage and most likely light his bushes on fire as he left, but given what he'd been put through, even thinking of that turn of events exhausted him. Sure, he'd love to see the look on shorty's face when his shrubs went up in flames, but he hadn't eaten in at least a day and the whole soul-rape fiasco left him feeling drained.
He listened patiently, stoically, as Alexandre went on. From what he could extrapolate from the boy's tales, the senshi were akin to commanders and the knights were no more than grunts, and each were essentially a part of a planet that aligned with one another like European countries in feudal times. It was the best analogy he could come up with, but it sounded like a crock of s**t no matter how hard he tried to understand it. Space soldiers, magic, rebirth...
The boy's next statement caught his attention, and roused a sinister smile on his lips. No purpose other than being killed, huh? He liked that. Maybe if he could get past the crazy, the blonde wasn't so bad. At least they were of the same opinion that some people were better off dead. On second thought, though, he couldn't get past the crazy. Maybe the blonde was better off dead too.
At least he couldn't spin his ludicrous stories anymore.
Wait, Alois was just drafted into the military? Was he hearing things right? His brother would die if he found out. It might be worth telling him once Alois escaped Crazytown, though the prospects of that were grim. Alois wasn't interested in war, it was too organized. Too convenient. Too justified. He was interested in mayhem. Telling him that he was part of a militarized faction with magical superpowers whose sole purpose was to wipe out the alien menace didn't exactly inspire confidence in him. Aside from the fact that this poor kid was clearly batshit insane, he found that these stories merely tried his patience and whittled away his interest in the kid.
However, he hadn't forgotten about vengeance. Even if he was crazy, that little stunt he pulled was unforgivable. He would still have to wait for the opportunity to spell that out to the other man in as many violent ways as possible.
"So let me get zis straight..." He began, donning a stony expression. "Zese terrorists are from space somewhere, and zey've died once already. Zey came back as... sensual? Sensor? I don't ******** remember ze word, and knights, and zey have magic. All zey want to do is terrorize our planet for some reason. Also, you're part of some anti-terrorist group zat tries to kill zem all. Oh, I can't forget, you haf' magic too. And you dragged me into zis." He was fairly certain he covered all the bases, aside from the soul violation he'd committed earlier. Now that he's established his reiteration of the tale, perhaps it was time to try a different approach. "Look, you're not stupid." Okay, that was a lie. "But you haf' to understand why zat sounds ganz verrückt to me."
He sat upright and rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. "Some of it I can forgif', since I'f seen some strange sings. Zat shadowy creature in ze alley, and..." Did he have to mention it again? "Your hand." He cleared his throat, and unconsciously began rubbing his chest again. "Anyway, zat's still a hard sell. If you want me to belief' that, I need you to proof' it." If he was drunk, he would've believed the story without a hitch.
Actually, no. He'd still call bullshit even if he was drunk enough to hold onto the grass to stay on the earth.
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 1:32 pm
And here it came, as he knew it would. Sighing he tilted his head as he listened to the other. "Senshi, they are senshi." He corrected as the other as he continued to speak. He really needed to learn the name of their enemies and Alexandre had the duty to correct him and get him on the path to knowing their enemy. As the dark haired male continued on picking at everything he'd said he waited it out - waited till he'd finished speaking.
When finally the other was done Alexandre stood up slowly. "You are correct, I am rather intelligent actually. And I assure you - I wouldn't tell you such a tale were it not true and I could not prove it. I am not in the habit of telling far fetched tales, as far fetched as what I've just sounds. And there is a reason, or something of a reason, for these senshi and knights terrorizing the city and I will impart that knowledge onto you once I've proven my story to you." As he spoke he braced himself for what he was going to have to do. Normally he wasn't at home when he did recruiting, and he talked to them before corrupting them, but now his normal routine of doing this was all thrown off and things had to be done out of order.
"The shadow creature was a mirror wraith. Not something I could control or I would have. Remarque did try though it seemed to not want to listen to him - something I'll ask him about within the next day or so." He said offhandedly before moving to a clear space in the living room. Not wanting anything to obstruct the view the other would have of him. "I've mentioned powering up and magic, both things you now can do and have. It is only fair, and proper, that I show you. Though keep in mind your uniform will not be the same as mine - no two uniforms are the same." Saying this he easily powered up.
A flowing black cape was draped off his shoulders and fell down his back. A dark indigo and blue coat that was long, making him look shorter than he was, and was formal in all sense of the word. Under it a gray colored vest and one more layer was worn under the vest. A black shirt, which apparently had lace frilly sleeves judging by the black lace that poked out from his coat sleeves, and covered his neck. He was quiet formal and proper look even the knee high boots, which also helped make him look shorter than he was. "This is powering up..." And no doubt any senshi could sense him if they were near, or any knight, he could only hope that it being so early in the morning none were powered up and in the area. He didn't sense anyone so he assumed none could sense him.
"If you focus on the darkness in your soul and on changing, on your clothing changing, it should come to you. I'd like to know the name you will now go by as an officer of the Negaverse. I go by General Benitoite." He didn't summon his weapon, not yet, as he stood there watching the other and waited to see if he was going to power up. What would he say and think now? He'd just, as far as he was concerned, given his proof.
[quote="Strickenized']
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 9:33 pm
Senshi? Yeah, whatever. What did it matter, as long as he could recognize them for who they were? It wasn't his fault that the word sounded completely foreign from the two and a half languages he knew (counting enough French to function in the country), and it wasn't exactly easy to remember. Did he really have to get all bent out of shape over it? Hell, he could've just tuned him out altogether. Didn't he get a 'thank you for listening' out of all of that? Oh, right - this is the 'military' now.
And here he thought he'd escape being drafted since he wasn't officially an American citizen. So much for that idea.
Alois was put off by the fact that Alexandre could compliment himself so easily. He was playing nice here; maybe the blonde could tone down his haughty demeanor enough to not piss Alois off. However, that was apparently too much to ask for, and his concentrated efforts to remain amiable amounted to nothing. He may as well insult the kid six ways to Sunday and forget about playing nice. At least he'd get a rise out of the blonde from time to time, though the constant threats about shoving his hand into his chest again was getting old.
He watched Alexandre power up with interest. So the story he'd woven had some merit. It was still a difficult pill to swallow, and the last thing Alois wanted to do was come off as gullible or daft. He desperately wanted to stand up and assert that he could think critically just as easily as Alexandre could. If no two uniforms are the same, then they're not ******** uniforms, now are they? He thought bitterly. The fact that the blonde acknowledged absolutely none of his positive qualities was a bother. No - he'd much rather throw information at him and expect him to listen to his every beck and call. That wasn't how Alois worked.
If he wanted respect, he better goddamn earn it, and Alois didn't care what kind of flashy clothing he wore. If anything, he looked even tinier than he already did when he was dressed as a regular human being, and not some emo horseback rider. Alois stood to confirm his thoughts. From his vantage point, the other man looked absolutely minuscule in comparison. Finally, vindication.
Okay, so Alexandre had some cute little alter ego for his preposterous getup? "That's nice." He responded dully. This might be magic, but it was goddamned useless magic. How in the hell was it supposed to be useful to suddenly change clothes in an instant? If this was some kind of war, as Alexandre suggested, then it called for something more damaging than an instantaneous wardrobe swap. Maybe he just didn't know the definition of a war. Then again, he still hadn't completely dispelled the suspicion that this was all some elaborate hoax. "So what ze hell does zat even mean? Benitoite..." He trailed off after pronouncing the word choppily. He hadn't heard it before, which wasn't surprising. It sounded like an Americanized word for a mineral, maybe.
Wait, was he actually expecting Alois to follow suit? He wasn't interested in playing this dress-up game, and his patience had already worn thin. So what, if he closed his eyes and tried really hard he'd magically be someone else? What a crock of s**t. Besides, he wasn't interested in focusing on the 'darkness in his soul'. It made his chest hurt.
Alois rested a hand on his hip and regarded the other man with a perplexed expression. "I don't really give a s**t about your alter-egos and changing clothes. If zis is how you fight your wars, you'f lost it already." Obviously they need to study a few dozen books on tactics and militarization if that's what they're going for. If he was in a decent mood for it, he'd offer selling them to him, but it seemed inappropriate and too kind a gesture for the other man. He hadn't exactly been nice during their discussion. "Look, your tale is fascinating. Nutty, but fascinating. You can go feel good about yourself now. But after hearing all zis s**t, I'd rather haf' a stiff drink zan stick around and play your little games."
He didn't care anymore. Pipsqueak here could go ******** himself.
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 10:37 pm
It wasn't like Alexandre was trying to be rude, and non-complementing. He simply wanted and needed to get the information across to the other. And given his mental state he wasn't as...coddling as he might otherwise be. He was functioning on needs and the need to get certain things done and accomplished. Right now that need was imparting information on the other and educating him and fast. He didn't even like standing here knowing what he'd done to someone else. He'd done what he'd done to Bazzite only this result was good and not bad, and he'd been corrupting not attempting a promotion. But he'd still stuck his hand into someone else's chest and grasped their starseed with his hand.
As the other brushed him off, and rather rudely, Alexandre focused a glare on him. "You will power up. I wish to see who you have become and wish to know your name. I will fill you in further on this war, the reason behind it, once you power up." And he would. But he wanted to see and assure himself, further, that he had not botched something up. He might not be looking at a youma, thank god for that, but he still wanted the assurance that he hadn't botched this up in some manner.
"And Benitoite is a mineral. All officers are named for one - it isn't a choice we have." Like the uniforms were not a choice either. And while the uniforms were not all the same at least they didn't look like the senshi, that he knew he couldn't handle. He didn't care for what they wore, male or female...aside from perhaps that senshi of spiders. His uniform was decent. Though the blond did like his uniform quite a bit.
"I'd also like to see what weapon you've been given. Mind you it won't be impressive yet but in time you'll gain in rank and gain a better weapon - something more....destructive." He stated with something of a weak smile. His own weapon had tasted blood it's fair share of times and had been brought against senshi and knights. But the thought of that right now bothered him, the thought of fighting anyone right now bothered him and left him unsettled. Then he tilted his head at the other. "Do you know how to fight?" The note of pleading in his tone left it obvious that he hoped the other could fight. He didn't want to train him, even if he really should, and he really was hoping he wasn't like some others were - unable to fight or defend himself. Somehow though he had a feeling the other could handle himself, to a point anyway.
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 11:24 pm
He had a weapon? He never remembered receiving a weapon. Wouldn't it be on the nightstand or... In his possession? "Of course I can fight." Even that simple question called his attention to the fact that this man really knew nothing about him. Yet... From all that time spent observing the younger boy's room, he felt as though he knew more about him than most did. He knew of the interest in horticulture, the plethora of plants, the impressionist paintings of Paris, the classical literature... Even his taste in clothing and furniture. He could surmise that he was an intellectual, that he probably had a green thumb, and that he found something meaningful in old paintings. He could extrapolate that the boy had either been to or was interested in Paris. He could also guess that he harbored a great interest in ornately-crafted candlesticks.
Yet what could Alexandre say about him? Next to nothing.
"I don't know where ze ******** my knife is, but I'f been using it for years." Once again he searched his back pockets. Nothing. He checked his front pockets, around his belt, his shirt, his jacket pockets, even the rims of his boots. He couldn't even feel its familiar weight anywhere. Was it still lying back in that alley, or did Alexandre confiscate it? Probably not; he didn't think the other man was as bright as he thought he was. "So if I haf' somesing like zat, it'd be easy." Could he punch someone out? With certainty. Still, he'd rather stab someone to death, as it saved his knuckles and was far more satisfying. And lethal.
He still didn't know what to think of the whole scenario. Wouldn't it just be easier to bring the real military in on this, if the senshi were such a threat? What about equipping their officers with pistols and the like? He was fairly sure wardrobe swapping proved an ineffective barrier to bullets. Since that was the only magic he was aware of, it seemed a surefire way to stamp out the enemy without much effort. And why the whole outer space s**t? It'd be easier to bring him on board with this whole war business if he simply asserted that these individuals were targets, and he could beat the s**t out of them as he saw fit.
Now Alexandre was making demands. What made him think he had the right to force Alois to do something he simply wasn't inclined to do? "Go ******** yourself." He finally quipped. Like hell he was going to do some pointless transformation and make up an identity for himself... Based on a mineral. Why the hell did they pick minerals? It seemed an arbitrary choice at best. This entire experience only continued to sour as he learned more about this bizarre supernatural war. Maybe it was best he just walk out on this loon and his tall tales, and live his life as if his chest wasn't severely ******** with, and his favorite shirt wasn't ruined in the center.
"Frankly I'm sick of your s**t. I didn't ask for you to ******** wis' my soul, and if you killed me, I wouldn't haf' cared because I would be dead. If you're so smart, you'd haf' figured zat out already. I don't want to play your little games and pretend I can become somesing zat I could give half a s**t about. I don't want to be your little soldier. I don't want to be subjected to your halfassed stories. I don't even want to be stuck in your damned presence. Just let me out of here and I'll forget zis ever happened. And return my knife, if you haf' it." Though chances were it was lost forever.
Shorty was out of luck; Alois had just run out of patience and he wasn't about to play nice anymore.
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Posted: Thu May 02, 2013 11:59 pm
"Not that sort of weapon....well at least not the one your referring to. We all get a weapon. When you power up you can summon it." He said with a light shaking of his head. Fingers combed through his hair as the blond wondered why this time round, with informing a new Lieutenant, was so difficult and different from usual. It shouldn't be like this. It would be far easier and yet it wasn't! He'd done this a few times before so it should be easier, not harder! "it's not likely you'll have a knife to start with - actually I'd say it would never happen for any Lieutenant. But in the end you get something lethal." He said while thinking on some of the weapons he'd seen in the possession of other Generals. Fluorite's bladed weapons and Wolframite's rather scary blades and the chain which connected them. Painite's spear which was similar to his own weapon. Oh yes, General's got deadly weapons and so did the General Kings and Generals Queen's is seeing Zinkenite's bombs be used was anything to go by. They might not be bladed but they were certainly nasty.
"I don't have your knife. And I suggest you do as I asked. It'll help to know what sort of weapon you have so you can train properly with it - with someone who has a similar weapon. If your close range I won't be of much help unless it's to learn to spar against someone who's long ranged." As he had a long weapon that allowed him to keep some distance from opponents, though he was known to get on the ground and roll around fighting it out with someone. He wasn't afraid to get bloody, dirty, and just down right catty - as some would call it. So long as he won or at least did some damage he wasn't too upset with how it happened or the state in which he came out of it in.
"I can't let you go as you are. You are now part of the Negaverse and need to learn." It seemed his warning to others, about bringing someone in against their will, was coming true. He had someone unwilling to learn and unwilling to join or do anything other than be a useless number. An unknown and useless number! "This war isn't something made up nor is it something so simple or where normal civilians can be brought in - such as the cops or military. How would they fight magic? With a gun? A baton? Useless..." He stated giving a sniff of distaste at the words he spoke. "No, we are the only ones who can beat them back and remove them completely."
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