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Paperwork, why was it so damned hard to convince people to fill out a little damned paperwork? He slapped his hand down in irritation at a pile of half filled out documentation on senshi sightings and locations. He’d have to consolidate the information, re-write some of it so it was legible…really who wrote in crayon anyhow? Why was there even a lieutenant sending him a report…in crayon?

Locke, coiled himself around some of the remaining rafters in the room, serpentine body forming a loop around it while his owlish face twisted this way and that watching the display below, finned tail swaying slightly in amusement before its large-fox-ish ears twisted like satellite dishes towards the sound of dragonfly wings.

The Youma’s attention shift, caught Zinkenite’s – and he too turned towards the source of the sound, eyes widening for a moment, chin lifting as his stance shifted. Caution and then realization that there was something dreadfully familiar in the features caught him.

“Bazzite?” The utterance was hesitant, if only because it was hard to be sure with blue skin, scales… the tangle of vines. But there was the shock of white hair, bright eyes… and something to the face that said he was all too likely correct in his guess.

“…Come here.”

The command was perfunctory, waving a hand towards the space not a few feet in front of him, distinctly inside the room but not too close.

The Youma above your heads laughed, hand like ‘paws’ flexing for a moment before it lowered itself in a sinuous movement to the table and glanced over the interloper with bright and clever eyes. “Well, this is new.” It intoned and strode along the table, nimbly missing the piles of papers and then using a chair to deposit itself on the floor with a fan of strangely fish like fins. It deposited itself in one of the heavy wooden chairs that sat to either side of an improvised chess game, and shifted one of the pieces, when it realized that Zink was paying more attention to Bazz than he was the board, it moved one of the ‘opponent’ pieces with a nudge of its claw into a less favorable position.

Zinkenite was a pillar; he stood quite still for a long moment, shifting himself to stand at a 45 degree angle to the ever so much taller youma.

“Bazzite.” He said after a long interlude of utter inaction. “What happened to you?” The tone was surprisingly civil, measured and quiet, alluding to calm and composure, stillness perhaps not unlike his pose.

“Who did this to you?” He tilted his head slightly and let his eyes drift over the physical changes once more, documenting…assessing.

A deep breath, a soft exhale. “You asked him…” He repeated carefully and gave a small nod that might have understood, “And he complied.”
A hand rose to rub a finger over the bridge of his nose, once, twice…then dropped again, expression blank, even what could be made out from behind the thick fabric of his mask it was just not there.

“I see.”

“A General.” He reached an idle hand and tapped his fingers on the thick dark wood of the table, a small corner of it that didn’t have a great number of papers on it. The other hand rested against the mask, as though he were telling the world to ‘shhh’ so that he could think. So he could process what he had just heard before it turned outward for a moment, a clear sign for ‘wait’.

“Stay here…” He said and twisted on his boot heel, vanishing with a small rush of air from the room.

He’d teleported out.

He returned after a short period of time and dragged a chair away from the table, waving at it as though to invite taking a seat, the back of it was narrow, and might, with careful seating accommodate the fragile wings. He set a small handful of energy orbs onto the table.

“Bazzite… “ He looked as though he very much wanted to continue speaking, but was stopping himself, at least for a moment. “You are not… a General.”
He said the words carefully, well enunciated. “You are… a YOUMA. Generals…can not…promote Captains. You knew that, he knew that.”

Soon, he’d send the summons in a moment, they could expect company, and there would be punishment meted out. It was, fundamentally… unavoidable.

“Locke… please excuse yourself for the time being… this room will likely be feeling a touch overcrowded in a moment.” He turned a stern eye on the strange beast of a youma, who snorted and then crept out the same cavernous window that Bazzite had entered through, nimble fingers and toes helping it find grips in the surface of the old castle.


It was then that Benitoite would feel the ‘pull’ of being summoned.

The jig, as they would say, was up.

“I think that it’s rather clear why I’ve summoned you here General.” He glanced rather pointedly at Bazzite and back again.

“To say that I am disappointed that you did not come to me, immediately after this would be something of an understatement. The fact that you did this all, you render me at a loss for words. There will of course be consequences for what you have done.

“I’ve asked Howlite to come, do you understand?”

He glanced at Bazzite for a moment. “When you are done with those, please go after Locke, if I need you personally, I’ll follow up later.”

It wasn't too often that Zinkenite reached out to Howlite sounding so troubled, and she'd acknowledged his request for her presence immediately. Something like this, outside of their regularly scheduled meetings, was rare and almost never good.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she made the walk within the Rift, toward his office. As she approached, she passed a youma. Stronger than most, self-aware, unique in appearance. Friendly, even, as he lifted a claw to her.

She nodded to him as she passed.

Pausing briefly outside the door, the General King wiped the expression from her face and took note of the energy before her. Turning the knob, she entered, flicking a cursory glance over Benitoite's unhealthy appearance before addressing the more important figure in the room.

"Zinkenite," Her head tilted, hands clenching into fists and relaxing. "You have something for me."

It seemed like that something might be the General trembling only a few feet way.

“Howlite.” Zinkenite nodded in return to her greeting and then swept a hand, indeed towards the trembling figure of Benitoite.

“This is General Benitoite. I’d like to remand him into your custody, Howlite, as the good General here saw fit to try and promote his captain, Bazzite. The results of this particular endeavor just waved to you on their way out the door.”

Zinkenite’s fingers curled slightly, stiffly too before he dropped his hand again.

“I feel that punishments in another Division will be fare more effective than those in his chosen division. Besides, if I can’t trust him with my captains, I’ll be damned if I trust him with my files.”